Leap of Faith (Catch Me, If You Can) - ErinWantsToWrite, alighterwood - Batman (2024)

Chapter 1: slipping through my fingers, all the time

Chapter Text

Peter thinks he might have died. But he isn’t sure.

He remembers looking for Tony, as he fell through endless sky. He reached out with his web-shooter for anything to hold onto, but all he could see was blue and white looking down at him. Like he’s small. Like he’s insignificant, in the grand scheme of things. Nothing to grab, nothing for safety. And he looked for Tony without thinking about it, shouted for him, because he could hear Tony in his comms. He could hear how the man’s voice shook, heard when he spotted Peter, but Peter didn’t see him.

“I see you, kid, just hold on! I’m coming, I’m almost there!”

But Peter couldn’t find anything to hold onto.

Strong hands choked Peter’s throat, wrapped so tightly that his vision started to swim. He shook Peter around in his fury, screamed in his face. Peter couldn’t hear what he was saying, not with the wind howling in his ears, the sea growing closer and closer. Peter could smell the water, the salt in the air, and he knew. He knew that Tony might not make it. Not this time.

(And he wondered, for the smallest second, if this is what his parents saw when they died in that plane crash.

Endless blue sky.

Small and insignificant.

He wondered if the wind was too loud, if they held onto each other.)

That’s when Peter felt wrong. Every nerve pinched in his legs, spreading up his body like a wave of cold water washing over him. He unsuccessfully bit down an agonized cry and opened his eyes, stinging tears blurring his vision. Ashes float in the wind, flying away from him in a dance of sparks. It consumes his view, a thick black snow that sits in his hair and on his skin.

Peter barely managed to make the man let go of his throat, desperately gasping for air. His arms felt weak, too weak, and he could hear a shout of horror. Tony is scared, more than Peter is, and it doesn’t make sense. Because how bad is it, that Peter feels the pain, but someone else is more scared than he is?

“Tony- I-I don’t feel so- I don’t feel good.” He choked out, his throat burning with the effort, the pressure of hands still wrapped on his skin.

The man grabbing at Peter disappeared in a cloud of black ash, serpent yellow eyes fixed on his, and the ghost of his words echoing in Peter’s sight. Peter was left with just the sky, just the sun and the clouds. And Tony. He could see Tony, finally, and Peter felt relief. His hand reaching out towards Peter, a flash of light as the nanotech of his bracelet wrapped around Peter’s wrist.

But when Peter reached for him, his hand was crumbling away into nothing but dust. The last he sees of his foster father is the man screaming and his hand grabbing onto the ash of Peter’s. The pain is unbearable, his nerves alight like fire over his face.

And then he stopped falling, his back hitting concrete with a sickening crunch.

-

new, different, same?

-

The first sensation he had when he came to was the high pitched ringing in his ears. The second was the pain and nausea.

Peter groaned as he came to (- how long was he…?) and he rolled onto his side, sputtering for air with shaking limbs. His hand slips on crumbling rock, and he catches himself barely in time not to hit the ground again.

The concrete underneath him has splintered outwards from a crater. Which Peter distantly thinks “Oops,” for, because that will have to be fixed. Peter crawls his way out of the crater that he doesn’t mourn making, because he’s focused on a metallic taste in his mouth that he can’t get rid of no matter how many times he swallows.

His back burns under that familiar (sometimes, awfully painful) itch of healing. Like fireworks along his back, he can feel the nerves repairing themselves, sewing back together. It’s an unpleasant feeling, one that makes his head spin, but it always is that way. He’s used to it, unfortunately, but he still has to hold back the bile that threatens to come up.

The earth is spinning underneath him, a double vision split that he can’t get a hold on. Peter closes his eyes as he stays on all fours, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. The stinging from his back grows more aggressive as he attempts to gain his bearings.

Angry hands squeezing the air out of him-

Peter coughs, rubbing his own hand on the skin of his throat as if he could clear away the feeling of those fingerprints. The ghosts of them press down on his throat like they’re still there. That man had been so furious at him, but Peter didn’t even know why. He hadn’t done anything crazy, he didn’t even recognize the guy.

It had happened way too fast to make sense.

The man that attacked him just now had approached him on the street, and Peter could tell he was bad news right away. His spider-senses went off like crazy, howling to back away- to run. Get away get away get away, it said, but Peter couldn’t cause a scene with so many people nearby.

“Just talk to me for a second,” He had said, his eye twitching when Peter took a step back. He just kept trying to get Peter to talk to him, no matter what Peter did to get away. Excuses that he has to get to school fell out of his mouth, he tried getting behind the bus stop, he tried weaving through the crowd. Nothing deterred him, the man had kept his eyes set on Peter, kept calling out, “Come here! I need to talk to you!”

It was when Peter alerted Tony that something was wrong when the guy got so mad at him, that he snapped. He yanked Peter’s arm backwards with more force than Peter expected of him, and then they were-.

Ashes, falling, empty sky-

“Tony-!”

Peter sits up too fast and his stomach protests fiercely. He falls towards his right, thumping into a brick wall. Tony was right there, he was trying to help. Why didn’t Peter use his web shooters to bring him closer? It was just a little pain, he should have sucked it up and pushed through it! He holds onto his head, trying to clear away the ringing- no, static- wait, static?

His fingers reach towards his ear, pulling back a clump of metal. He turns his earpiece over to try and see it better, but the double vision makes it near impossible. All he can tell is that it doesn’t look broken, but it’s sparking at the bottom. Not good.

This comm was built by Tony to be near indestructible, looking like nothing but an earbud. It connected to his phone, but it was a comm, so Tony and Peter could talk at any time. And now it’s nothing but scrap at the moment. He stuffs the earpiece into his pocket- his normal jeans pocket, because everything went to sh*t at the worst possible time. He can’t even get to school without something going wrong.

Oh, sh*t, Ned is going to freak. They share locations with each other on their phones, no doubt it alerted Ned the second Peter was attacked, just like it does for Tony. If this turns out to be just a weird thing that happened (please) and not a life-alerting event, Ned is going to give him so much sh*t for how Peter’s luck is so bad he should try to contact Guinness World Records.

That villain- fury, Peter can’t breathe- Peter needs to focus. He could still be around somewhere, maybe even waiting to strike Peter. He’s an older man with a wiry frame, but deceptively strong grip. It had shaken him to his core to be yanked back so easily by someone, especially someone that looked like an old twig.

Peter tries to commit his face to memory, so that when he sees him again, he knows. His nose was sort of wide and flat against his face, his cheekbones jutted out at a sharp angle, and wispy white hair that looked like he’d been electrocuted. Serpent yellow eyes, filled with rage-

Calm down, Peter.

He was making spacial jumps, pulling Peter farther and farther from the Manhattan street when Peter refused to go with him. Teleportation isn’t something Peter has trained against, so it took too long to gain his bearings during the struggle. It was all he could do to kick and fight to get out of the grip.

It hadn’t felt like magic, he thinks. He’s met a few magic users and they briefly talked about stuff like that with him, showed off what they could do. No, this guy was something else. He had tech on his arm, that must have been what was causing the jumps.

That man was trying to get Peter away from Stark Tower- which is insane, considering that Peter was leaving the area already. He was headed to school, there was no doubt that Peter would have made it further away, and Tony wouldn’t have even gotten close. Had this guy just been impatient, or was he stupid, too? Peter struggles to keep track with what happened…

They kept getting higher and higher up, Peter managing to slip out of his grasp a few times, but getting caught again. They had crashed into a building at one point, but then appeared higher up. At one point, it got too high for Peter to just jump down once he was let go, and they ended up above the ocean instead of the city ground.

But he knew- he knew that Tony was coming to save him. So Peter grappled with the man to let him go as they started to fall, straight towards the sea. That’s when he wildly grappled to grab at his throat, and the ash started.

Ash… Peter wipes at his mouth and cheek, pulling back to see it. There was nothing there, but he swore he had- he had turned to ash. Tony had grabbed dust instead of his hand. And then…

Peter looks at the crater he had made. It was smoking around the edges, and there Peter could smell the fire. He runs a hand along his back and feels nothing out of the ordinary; no rips, cuts, or popped seams. But he can feel the bruising of falling from an extraordinary height.

Just… Peter shouldn’t worry about that right now. He’s moving fine, not even that injured overall. Instead, he should focus on contacting Tony. He reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone, only to find nothing on him. Cursing, Peter recalls dropping it on a roof during the struggle.

“Just great.” Peter mutters to himself, his throat screaming in protest. “Perfect.”

When the world stops spinning, Peter gets onto his feet. His suit is in his backpack, which had, thankfully, not come off in the struggle. He needs to find a way to contact Tony, and fast. Maybe someone will let him borrow their phone? He has emergency cash on him, maybe a phone booth will be around somewhere that he can use.

Peter takes the time to get on his feet to observe his surroundings. It’s a dingy back alley somewhere, the smells hitting him harder than usual. There’s a chain-link fence with barbed wire at the top on his left, and past two dumpsters to his right is the open way out of the alley and towards a street. There’s not a lot of people, but there are a few walking around.

He chances a glance towards the sky, and his stomach sinks. Why does it look like it’s about to rain?

It had just been sunny moments ago, that much he’s sure of. How far did he travel, that he’s now surrounded by dark clouds? The smell of smog coats the air, and, to Peter’s distress, gunpowder. It’s all around him, and it might account for the bitter taste in Peter’s mouth. Where the hell in New York is he? He doesn’t recognize any of the buildings he can see.

Phone. He needs a phone.

He stumbles out into the street, a man dodging him and cursing under his breath before going along his way. He looks around for a sign of anything familiar, but even the architecture is different. The buildings around him are more… Gothic? Is that the term? He doesn’t know much about architecture. But each building here is made of dark stone, pointed arches and asymmetrical windows.

It wasn’t the architecture that startled Peter the most, but how it’s lived in. There’s broken glass underneath a shop window, a section of the display cleared out but the rest of it left untouched. Some of the neon signs in the stores flickered every second, some only half lit. Peter doesn’t recognize any of the store names: Slim’s Service Station, Donahue’s Department Store…

Peter can smell guns everywhere he looks. A father and his daughter passing by have three on them, and Peter can only see one on his hip. There is an older man waiting at a bus stop, leaning on the pole and smoking a cigarette. He has a knife strapped to his thigh, but he’s dressed in a business suit and reading the paper like it’s a normal Tuesday morning. There’s an uncomfortable metallic smell that’s not gunpowder, but blood. It’s nearby, somewhere, but not an amount that is…

Concerning?

It’s all concerning. He means “they aren’t dead” concerning. He doesn’t hear screams or groans of pain, so he’s assuming it’s old blood.

Worst of all, when Peter looks up at the street sign above him, he doesn’t see a glorious number system like he’s used to. There’s instead just a name: Graham Street.

Wait, he’s not in Chicago, is he?

“Oh, this is bad.” Peter runs a hand over his mouth. He can’t be that far from home, right? All of those other teleportation jumps had been short, just a couple blocks.

Phone booth, now. Peter can figure out where he is if he can contact Tony. He spots one next to the bus-stop, and he skirts around the man with the knife to get to it. He crams the coins from his pocket into the slot, annoyed that his hands are shaking as he attempts to dial the number.

He presses the phone against his ear and waits, hoping Tony’s not too busy freaking out to pick up the call. But FRIDAY would take his call anyway, so it shouldn’t be a problem.

The phone rings once, twice… four times. Five times. It’s on the sixth ring that Peter is met with a robotic voice. “The number that you have dialed is not in service. Please re-enter the number and try again.”

Not in service? Tony’s plan wouldn’t get canceled. He thought he typed it right, too. Peter tries again, an unsettled feeling tickling the back of his neck.

“The number that you have dialed is not in service. Please re-enter the number and try again.”

“But it’s the right number!” Peter tells the voice, growing frustrated. He hangs the phone up and chews at his bottom lip in thought.

This doesn’t make any sense. No matter how far away Peter is, the phone wouldn’t just not call Tony’s. It’s not like this is Tony’s business number, it’s his personal cell. Even with the amount of times that Peter will call to annoy Tony, the man still picks up his personal cell, because anyone who has access to the number is important enough to pick up the call for.

Peter picks up the phone again, pulling out the rest of his coins. He has enough to try other phones. First, he calls Pepper, begging to hear her voice on the other side of the line. She would pick up, probably annoyed at first thinking it’s a scam call, but when she heard Peter, her voice would soften and she’d ask where the hell he is-

“The number that you have dialed is not in service. Please re-enter the number and try again.”

He tries Natasha next. She’s probably the most level-headed about Peter disappearing in the air like that, if she’s up. Usually she’s sleeping at this time of day, because she gets a lot of her work done at night. When she picks up, she’d maybe assume Peter was the villain that he was fighting, or another SHIELD agent, but she too, would wonder where he’d gone.

“The number that you have dialed is not in service. Please re-enter the number and try again.”

It’s with a heavy heart that Peter tries one more time, this call to Rhodey. The man is Tony’s best friend, and he’s probably with Tony right now, trying to keep him calm. If anyone would pick up the phone, it’d be him. And boy, would Peter be glad to hear his calm tone right now. Rhodey would know what to do.

“The number that you have dialed is not in service. Please re-enter the number and try again.”

Okay, so, maybe all of the phones on Tony’s plan are off right now. It’s not like a mega-corporation of a billionaire couldn’t miss a payment or two. (Who is he kidding?) Peter takes a shuttery breath and ignores the tears in his eyes, because he is not gonna be a baby about this, and he dials one last number: Happy.

Happy takes Peter everywhere, and he always picks up Peter’s calls. He pretends to be annoyed when Peter is there, but Peter always feels safe when Happy is around. It’s just how they are, really. Happy was visiting his friend that morning, that’s why Peter was walking to school. Peter feels bad to get him involved in superhero stuff so early in the morning- especially because Peter doesn’t even know where he is- but it has to be done. Besides, Happy wouldn’t really mind. He told Peter to call if anything ever happens.

The phone rings once, twice, and Peter holds his breath. On the third ring, he hears a click and his heart soars-

“f*ck off, why don’t you!? It’s too early for this sh*t! f*ckin’ spam bots, and from Gotham of all places? Take me off the f*cking call list, asshole, I don’t want your sh*tty-”

Peter hangs up the phone fast. That was not Happy, not even close to it. His heart sinks in his stomach, and he quickly wipes at his eyes with his jacket sleeve, furious that he’s crying. He’s not a damn kid, he can’t get emotional the second something happens!

Peter stares at the phone, his spider-sense chattering underneath his regular anxiety. Something is wrong. Very, very wrong. wrong, you hear? his spider-sense agrees with him, don’t like. Peter bites his bottom lip, trying to calm the raging storm that’s brewing.

It’s gonna be alright. He just- He has to remember what Aunt May taught him. If you get lost, stay in one spot. She’ll come… Find him.

(She didn’t find him that time.)

Peter swipes away the memory, it’s too painful and it won’t help him right now. It isn’t even the same situation. He just has to ignore that Tony’s heart isn’t what it should be, and that at any moment the stress could make him collapse, and it’d be Peter’s fault all over again-

He slaps his forehead with a SMACK that echoes in the street. The man at the bus stop grunts behind him, and Peter turns to see the man barely looking up from his morning paper. He shakes his head at Peter, and his voice is a low rumble like a thunder storm with an accent Peter is sure he’s never heard before: a mix of a transatlantic accent with New Jersey.

“You don’t look like you’re from here.”

Peter stares at him for a moment, and then says, “That-That depends on where ‘here’ is.”

The man raises a brow at his paper, then finally looks up at Peter. He drinks in the words a little too long for Peter’s liking- he’s entirely aware of how it sounded. The man replies in an almost careful tone, “You’re in the University district.”

“Of- Of where?”

Again, the man is skeptical of Peter. He looks Peter up and down, his eyes particularly scanning Peter’s throat before looking back up at him. “Gotham, kid. You’re in Gotham.”

“Gotham…?” Peter’s brow furrows as he tries to think. He’s never heard of a major city called Gotham, he thinks. “I’ve never…”

“Never been here? I can tell.” The man shakes his paper to turn to the next page. Gotham Gazette stares at Peter, but the headline catches his attention more:

TWO-FACE AT LARGE, STAY CLEAR

“Two-Face?” Peter repeats aloud. “Who’s that?”

“Who-” That causes the man to startle, and he gawks at Peter. His cigarette almost drops out from between his teeth. “Where you from? New York? How’d you get here and not know about him?”

Peter winces, looking around the street once more. An unfamiliar street, city, and villain. And Peter thinks he’d remember the face of that villain. He’s wearing a crisp black-and-white business suit, the left half of his face mottled with what Peter thinks are burns caused from acid.

And there’s the fact that none of the phones work, and the man’s accent…

Peter didn’t…

He didn’t time travel, did he?

No, no that wouldn’t make sense. Peter can see the date on the man’s newspaper as well. It’s the exact same as when Peter left, and he hardly doubts a city would just appear here in less than a day. So maybe Peter just doesn’t know this city? And there’s a chance that their phones are just wonky?

He takes another deep breath. Everything is gonna be fine, he just needs to calm down and think. What would Tony do?

Wait, scratch that. That’s only for the lab. He’s not allowed to use that as reference outside of engineering stuff, that’s one of the rules the others (and Tony) gave him. He rephrases the question: What would Rhodey do? Or Natasha?

The man is still staring at Peter as if he were an alien. “Kid? Where are you from? You know- You… You look like you got the brunt of it. Are you-”

“Where’s the nearest library?” Peter blurts out, and the man pauses. He then points behind Peter with a frown.

“Just ‘round the corner, but, kid-”

“Thank you!” Peter cuts him off, turning on his heel and heading in that direction at a jog.

Library- a library, that will have a computer, that Peter can look up everything he needs to know. That will help it all make sense. If the phones aren’t working, he just has to look it up! Peter rubs at his temple, shutting his eyes and choosing to take a deep breath.

Every noise he passes on the street is making it a little hard to think. He’s used to the noise, no doubt about that. Queens isn’t a quiet place. But this noise- the noise of this city, was just… off. It isn’t different to the sounds of a busy city. But it doesn’t feel the same, it doesn’t sound the same. It’s just off enough that Peter finds it difficult to focus.

Why? Why is it wrong?

Not time travel, and it certainly couldn’t be dimensional travel. Peter hadn’t been close to a particle accelerator when that man attacked him. What if he got transported to a city like Atlantis?

Oh, sh*t, he’s not in a version of Atlantis, is he? That would suck so bad. And make sense that the phone couldn’t call the surface. Shoot, shoot shoot this is bad!

Peter trips going up the steps of the huge library. The man had mentioned this is a university district, so does that mean Peter is nearby a school? He peers up at the dark lettering above the entrance that looms overhead. Gotham City Public Library.

Now, in Queens, the library is never really empty, even on slow days. There’s a huge amount of foot traffic outside, and the library hosts events every other day. There’s writer’s groups, kids stories time, service dog events, the like. It all makes it impossible to not have at least a group of folks coming and going between events. Which means that when Peter enters Gotham Public Library, he finds himself only able to describe it as “sad.”

There’s no one here.

It’s clean, unlike the other buildings Peter passed by. But that has to be due to no one using it. The lights are dim in the reception hall, only on towards the front and most of them off towards the back. There’s light coming from an office in the back, but the shades are drawn in the window, so Peter can’t see what’s inside. He can only hear a faint murmured heartbeat, and a woman’s voice… Giving directions?

“No no no, listen, you’re gonna need to go right!”

Well. It isn’t the weirdest day job he’s heard of.

He shrugs it off, instead heading to the right towards the computers in view. The lights might be weird, but Peter is sure the door said the library is open, so he’s doing what he wants. Which he would do anyway, even if they’re closed. He has to figure out where the hell he is.

The computer turns on with the wiggle of a mouse, and he pauses when he sees the log-in screen. There’s no ‘guest’ option.

He double checks that the only person- the woman, who’s annoyance is seeping through even over here- is still unaware that he’s here. Peter digs into his pocket, praying that this device had not met the same fate that his phone did.

The tiny mechanical spider moves as soon as Peter pulls it out. Little Legs stretches out on his palm, curling into his warmth and undoing his tiny spindle legs. Peter sets him next to the computer, and Little Legs creeps up the side. It “bites” into the computer by crawling into the USB. And to Peter’s surprise, the computer session opens in a record amount of time.

What usually takes five seconds took one. The login changes to the home screen, and Little Legs stays put.

“Thanks, Little Legs.” Peter mutters to the spider-bot. Tony had made Little Legs with him to help Peter get used to making AI. Little Legs is their first project together, and it settles Peter to have something of Tony here-

Ah. Speaking of.

Peter stares at his wrist as he goes to grab the mouse. Dangling from his wrist is the nanotech bracelet of Tony’s design.

Blue sky, Falling, Tony, Ash-

Peter shakes his head, grabbing his wrist and touching the bracelet in his fingers. This one has Peter’s initial on the side: “P”. Tony had sent it to him when Peter was falling, he was going to catch Peter using the Iron Man tech.

He has to contact Tony somehow. He has to let him know he’s okay, and to find him in this… random city that he’s never heard of. He goes to pull up the web browser to google this place when he sees something wrong.

The browser is different.

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

Peter stares at the tiny symbol, and he clicks it open. He can hear his own breathing as he watches the screen. Instead of Chrome, Peter is looking at a version that calls itself “Silver.” The opening page sure looks like Google, but the logo says “Abacus.”

“Wait, no.” Peter mutters, leaning back in his chair.

Why is it- No. He’s pretty sure that this one random place in America wouldn’t use a completely different browser that looks the exact same as another one. Right? That’s not- That’s not normal. Even other countries use this browser.

A new city that he’s never heard of.

A bad guy he’s never heard of.

The phones don’t work here, and if they do, they call someone else.

Peter turned to ash.

Peter turned to ash.

It should be impossible. The man hadn’t been using magic, he thinks, but- No, maybe he did? Peter thought he was making the spacial jumps using the wrist band he was wearing, and that? That was all tech. But how can a single wristband do what a particle accelerator needs so much space for? If it wasn’t magic, and it was tech, then how did that man bring Peter to an alternate reality?

That has to be what’s going on here, and implausible as it is. It changes everything that Peter was thinking- wow, he can’t believe he considered he was in Atlantis. That… was dumb of him. He’ll blame it on getting knocked so hard on the ground.

Somehow, Peter ended up in an alternate universe. It’s weird that it took Peter using the internet to figure that one out.

Ned is gonna lose his sh*t when Peter tells him about this.

Wait, no, focus, Peter!

He runs a hand down his face, resisting the urge to keel over and get sick. He doesn’t even know how he got here, besides that the man had been the reason for it. He has no idea how to get back without that villain and his wrist watch.

This would be a dream come true, under any other circ*mstance. Finding an alternate reality, proving that it’s possible? It’s too bad that this is a nightmare right now that he’s living it!

Oh, god, what if his molecules start freaking out about being in a different universe? Or what if he gets sick because his body isn’t used to the air here? He’s heard about that theory for time travel, and how if you jumped too far your body won’t have the anti-bodies needed to keep you from getting sick. Wait, but Peter’s immune system is jacked as heck after getting enhanced. Would he get sick that way? Does that mean if Peter time travels, or in this case, hops universes, would he get sick like a regular human would, or is he immune to that? And-

Oh, no, Tony is gonna freak.

If Peter gets even the tiniest of gunshots or stab wounds, they get fussy. Peter once accidentally slept off a gunshot for two days and when he woke up, he was in the hospital and everyone was fussing at him to never do it again. But how in the world are they gonna be able to track him to an alternate universe!?

Tony had saw him- Tony might think he’s dead.

Peter had considered it for a split second, but Tony has no idea. He had seen Peter disappear into ash.

But…

He wouldn’t give up, right? He wouldn’t call it a day, throw up his hands and say, “Well, guess I need a new student.” That wouldn’t happen.

Peter puts his head on the desk, trying to get some air in his lungs. It feels like someone is choking him still.

Tony will go looking for him. Or, no, Peter… It’s up to Peter to find that villain and get back, isn’t it? He doubts that the villain would go right back to Manhattan at this second, not with every Avenger after him. So that villain has to be here, where Peter is.

…Hopefully.

And maybe someone else got pulled here too? Though he doubts it, if he’s being truthful to himself. The man and Peter had disappeared together, and he doesn’t think anyone else was attacked before him. They would have been alerted to it.

But still, he should keep an eye out, or go looking for them after he’s done here. He might not have his phone, but he still has everything else that was on his person: his backpack, his spider-suit, his webshooters, his tools, and the clothes on his back: a black hoodie, baggy jeans, and tennis shoes. He also has his emergency funds that Tony and Pepper always make him carry.

Peter ignores how wrong the Abacus site feels to him, and he ‘googles’ Gotham City first. There’s a number of things he needs to catch up on, starting with where the hell he is. That man earlier had been really surprised that Peter had never heard of them, and it feels like a bad sign.

The first article that pops up are the more recent news stories, the first being about a man named Bruce Wayne, the second about that Two-Face guy, and the third being about the mayor. Whoa, the mayor got assassinated?

How is that not front page news? Where Peter comes from, that would be the headline! It’s not like mayors get assassinated every day! How important are this Bruce guy and Two-Face that their articles come up first?

Peter thinks it’s probably a better idea to get a history of the place first, so he googles- no, abacuses?- searches. He searches for their version of Wikipedia. …And he finds it’s called the exact same thing. At least that’s normal!

He clicks on Gotham Wikipedia with bated breath. And it doesn’t take long for Peter to figure out just how bad the situation is.

Gotham isn’t just a city, it’s apparently a hellhole.

The villains- which, by the way, have their own separate Wiki page, and it’s longer than any other article about Gotham- are rampant through the streets. They are always managing to escape a place called “Arkham Asylum” and get back on the streets to commit mass murders, rule their underground (blatant) crime organizations, the works. Peter feels a shiver of mortification run down his spine the more and more he reads.

Joker, Harley Quinn, Hugo Strange, Poison Ivy, Mister Freeze, Firefly, Bane, Hush, Black Mask- It just keeps going! Peter reads and reads, biting at his thumbnail the more he learns about each villain. It sounds like most of them are locked up at the moment, which is a good thing, but there are a few that are just out there, in Gotham, right now. Peter thought Queens had a lot of villains wondering around, but this place takes the cake.

There’s even another tab for crime lords and rouges. Red Hood sounds particularly terrifying to Peter, and he makes a mental note to never run into that guy at all costs. In fact, he hopes he runs into none of them, and just the villain that he’s chasing.

What kind of villain playground is this world running? How could anyone let it get this bad? Where is the government? Where are the heroes?

Heroes.

Heroes.

Peter’s heart swells at the thought. He needs heroes! They’ll be able to help him! For villains, there is always a hero around. He searches for just regular “list of heroes.” The first thing that pops up is a website- JusticeLeague.Org.

It reminds Peter of the Avengers website, so he lets out a small breath of relief. There are heroes here, so maybe he’ll find one and they can help him. The list pops up first, but there are no pictures save for a few. Which tracks, he thinks. Natasha never gets on camera on purpose, to hide her identity as much as possible.

Superman is the first name… Peter chooses to be polite. He did name himself Spider-Man after all. This guy has a cape on his costume that Tony would disapprove of, but Thor would appreciate. Then there’s Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, the Flash, and Batman.

Peter recognizes that name, Batman. He was in the articles about the villains of Gotham, and he was also mentioned on the home page. Peter clicks his name, and it sends him right back to the Gotham Wiki. Peter scowls at that. So this guy doesn’t have any information on him other than what the public knows.

Whatever, he can try to work with that. Peter clicks on “vigilantes.”

Batman is the first one on the list, and there’s an unknown age for him, as well as the others. It’s clear that he’s been fighting for decades now, so he must be old. Under that is the “Robin List.”

Peter raises a brow. Robin list?

And… It’s the most confusing list Peter has ever seen.

They’re sidekicks, he thinks? They’re constantly changing it up- first there was only one Robin, but now there’s multiple. There’s several different versions of “Batgirl” and there are a couple names like “Spoiler” and “Signal” that stick out as the only ones not bird or bat themed. There is no ‘current’ list either, just a weird amalgamation of names and time periods that don’t make a lot of sense. And not a single picture of them, either! There’s not even a picture of this Batman guy!

How does he get in contact with people that barely exist on their own wiki page? Spider-Man is a small time hero and even Peter has a longer wiki article on him!

This is gonna get tricky, should he-

Peter pauses.

“There is a no-metahuman rule in Gotham, set up by Batman himself.”

What?

A no-meta… metahuman? Is that their version of a mutated or enhanced person? Like… Like Peter?

Is he illegal in Gotham?

Peter can’t believe it. There’s no way this guy is gonna help him, if he knows Peter is a meta. So even if he stumbles across these guys somehow, he could be in danger. And, Peter realizes, he has no proof he’s from an alternate dimension.

Would Peter trust a random superpowered person who claims to be from an alternate dimension, just swooping into Queens? Well… Probably. But would Natasha? Or any of the others? Absolutely not. They’d lock the guy up and run tests before they allow him to do or say anything else. And Peter can’t…

He can’t risk that, if he doesn’t know these heroes. They could be good, and kind, and all that, and he knows it isn’t so black and white. But echoes of nightmares of being poked and prodded and experimented on if he was found out itch at the back of Peter’s mind. It wasn’t that long ago that he knew if the wrong person got their hands on him, Peter wouldn’t be seen again.

He almost was never seen again.

He has to be careful. He can’t risk telling these heroes anything until he’s sure they aren’t a threat. It’s all so complicated… He should just go look to see if anyone from his universe also came here, which is doubtful at the moment, but he has to try. Oh, wait. Peter has to check the laws.

He doesn’t know what Gotham’s standards are, and he certainly doesn’t have the biggest trust in the police. He works with them and they having a begrudging respect for him, but until he was certified as an Avenger, Peter always had to play keep-away with them. They tried to arrest him more than once. He doesn’t want to risk anything with Gotham’s police- though it does sound like they suck at their job, at least a little bit. (A lot a bit.)

The only thing that Peter sees he should look out for is that there’s a curfew placed on the city. He found this through a Facebook (though, it’s called FamilyNotes here, which is lame), post on the GCPD page. It starts at 8PM, which is, objectively, early. But based on the replies underneath this post, no one follows this curfew. Geez, Gotham citizens are colorful with their choice of words.

Peter should try, at least. He doesn’t want any cops on his case. It’ll be awkward getting finger-printed and nothing showing up in the database. Or, something, and it goes downhill from there.

He sighs and logs out of the computer, letting Little Legs crawl up his arm and into his sleeve. He’ll also have to avoid police during the daytime lest he get caught “skipping” school, but he doubts that it’s as reported here as it would be reported back at home. The city is not in good shape, which means the schools probably aren’t either.

It’s getting too close to lunchtime for Peter to still be here. He got everything he needed off of the computer, and he should start looking for places to take shelter in for the unforseen future. His hand runs over his webshooter on his wrist underneath his jacket sleeve. He should also find a place to get more web-fluid, because if he’s searching for this villain, it won’t just be as Peter.

Ah, sh*t, that’s right. Suddenly, Peter’s backpack feels heavy when he thinks about his Spider-Man suit inside. If Batman really doesn’t allow metas into Gotham City, than that surely means that Spider-Man won’t be a welcome addition. He should limit how much he’s seen as Spider-Man as well. It would get dicey if these Bat-Heroes started chasing him around for being an unknown vigilante on their turf.

As Peter makes his way to the door, he notices what is different than before. Sitting at the reception desk, the woman had finally moved out of her office. Peter must have been too focused to check on her. She doesn’t look up when Peter gets there, too busy typing on her phone. At least his computer was facing away from the desk, so she didn’t see what he was doing.

She’s wearing warmer clothes than Peter is, which makes him wonder if it’s going to get colder outside soon. Her red hair is cut around her shoulders, and she’s around her mid twenties, he thinks.

…?…

Huh.

His spider-sense doesn’t recognize her as a threat, but it does catch that she knows he’s there. Is she pretending to check her phone? Does she suspect him? If she does, then wouldn’t his spider-senses try to warn him? Her heartbeat is regular and even, so she doesn’t appear to be angry, if she knows Peter isn’t supposed to have been messing around on the computers.

Still, he tries to sneak past her. He keeps his head low and his hands in his pockets, praying that she doesn’t call him out. But alas, despite his best efforts, her cheery voice catches his attention as he almost makes it to the doors.

“No books today?” She asks. Peter looks over his shoulder to see an amused grin on her lips as she watches her phone.

He turns around to face her, shrugging one shoulder as he examines her carefully. He gives a wobbly smile and shakes his head, not seeing anything in her body language and not smelling any of the human emotions that would indicate a danger to him. Besides, his spider-senses have relaxed now.

“Nah, not today. Maybe another time.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause, where he can see her eyes fixated on one spot of her phone screen. She’s pretending to read. Then, she finally looks up from her phone and at him through oval-shaped glasses. There’s a curious glint in her eyes, that flashes with something else as she glances him over. Peter feels the tingle of his healing along his back, but he doesn’t know why it sticks out to him so much.

“…We don’t get a lot of people around here lately, so I know my regulars. I haven’t seen you here before.” She tries to sound like she’s joking. Her gaze is checking Peter’s face once- twice- three times, as if making sure he’s there.

Just his luck.

“I, uh, just moved here.” Peter says automatically. Which, yeah, technically. He just got here.

Amusem*nt has left her voice. “You moved to Gotham?”

For the first time since getting here, Peter can understand that sentiment. The crime rate is unlike anything Peter has ever seen before, even the more dangerous parts of Queens. The villains in this city run rampant and do what they want. Not exactly the city for the American Dream, that’s for sure.

Peter scratches his cheek, trying to think of something that doesn’t sound bogus.

“Cheap rent.”

Agh.

The woman nods, but she doesn’t seem quite so convinced. No doubt because what lame ass excuse was that? Peter should be put down just for his bad lying skills. She doesn’t let it show other than the twitch of a frown on her lips. “Yeah, I get that. My rent is damn cheap right now. You plan to be a regular here?”

“I mean, I do like libraries.” Peter mutters, because he has a feeling he’ll be using the library to keep an eye on the internet, and to learn more about this place. He hadn’t seen anything on that villain list about the villain he’s chasing, so he’ll have to keep an eye out. “Though, I’ve never seen a library so…”

“Empty?” She finishes, and Peter nods. He was trying to be polite about it, but there’s no way around it. “Yeah, the city often under funds its programs, and the public here is a little more interested in keeping it together than reading.”

“That’s a shame. I personally think it’s easier to keep it together if you’re reading. Nothing like a little escapism to season up your life.” Peter grins softly.

To his relief, the woman breaks out into a bemused smile and laughs. It’s bright and airy, sort of like how May’s used to be. “I’m Barbara, it’s nice to meet you. You should come by every now and then, if only for a little peace and quiet.”

“You get that a lot here, huh?” Peter looks around the empty place, and she grins back at him. Her mood has lifted somewhat, but Peter can see the ghost of something in her eyes. She wasn’t hostile and still isn’t, but she’s trying to figure him out. She keeps giving him a once over. “It’s nice to meet you too. My name’s Peter, I’ll try to drop by.”

“Great!” She sounds genuinely happy about that.

Which Peter can’t say anything about, because he’d be glad to have some kind of company if he worked somewhere this dead. This could be a great refuge to have should this new world get a little overwhelming for him.

Peter quickly turns to the door, but Barbara calls out to him, “Wait, before you go! You need a library card.”

Peter almost winces. Almost.

He was hoping and praying she wouldn’t notice. He was at the computer, after all, and it said he needed a card to log in. If she noticed something weird, she isn’t acting like it. Maybe she hadn’t even seen Peter at the computer at all? The divider is pretty tall, and Peter is pretty short.

“Uh, thanks.” Peter says, and he glances at the reception desk.

Please present ID for library cards.

“But- uh- I can’t-” Peter backtracks, putting his hand on the handle to get out. Barbara looks up in surprise. “My dad- uh- waiting for me. Lunch time. I gotta go.”

“But-”

“I’ll get one next time!” Peter says, cringing at himself as he flings his way out of the door. He hurries down the steps, hearing a short curse from underneath Barbara’s breath.

-

Barbara has seen a lot in her life. Unfortunately, ‘a lot’ includes what most wouldn’t want to consider. Evil is spread thick through Gotham, overcrowding what could have been a beautiful place. Violence has bred more violence, and it isn’t uncommon to see bruises on someone’s face.

But a kid?

Gosh, the kid that came into this library couldn’t have been more than 12 years old? Or maybe a little older? It was one thing when she noticed a stranger at the computer- and she has her card holders memorized, considering no one ever comes to Gotham Public Library. But when she finally saw his face, her heart broke.

He was scared. Maybe of her, or just scared in general. Maybe scared that she’d contact someone. Peter, he called himself. Peter had bruises under his eye, spread over his cheek, as if a much older person had taken a swing at him. His lip was busted and blood had dried over his chin.

The worst was his neck. Purpling, nasty bruises in the shape of fingerprints on his skin. Someone had choked that kid, had ruined any innocence he could have had to violence. And he was jumpy, about to take flight at any second. He was naturally standing with his weight leaning forward, as if used to sneaking around on the balls of his feet or taking off at the first chance of danger. One wrong word, and the kid would be out the door.

She had tried to get him to stay, because she knew that a form of trust would help her when she inevitably had to ask about the bruises. She was hoping that he’d open up to her about who did it- maybe send the others their way, because those bruises were not from the hands of another kid. Her blood boiled at the thought.

But he ran before she even said something. And now she has to do this the hard way.

Because there is no way she’s just going to let it go. Not when she has the means to find him, to check on him, and maybe get him out of a bad situation. Her hands started to shake when she thought about what those bruises could have come from, so she took a minute to regain her calm demeanor before sending a message in the group chat.

BATCHAT

Babs [6:30pm]: hey guys, just met a new yorker. he’s no older than like. 12 years old I think?

Timmy [6:31pm]: and this is relevant to the batchat why

Babs narrows her eyes at her phone. He had better be tired and forgetting not to sass her.

Babs [6:32pm]: because he moved TO gotham today and looked like he dropped out of the sky. you should have seen this kid. his face and neck are covered in bruises and his clothes are dirty like he just got beat up or hit by a car or something

Timmy [6:34pm]: okay, yeah, sounds important

Yeah, it sure is. Oh, she almost forgot about the other thing.

Babs [6:34pm]: also, he hacked the library computer

Dicko [6:35pm]: he what

Babs [6:35pm]: he hacked the computer

Timmy [6:36pm]: …like, how?

How is a question that she still hasn’t answered. He’s a pretty young kid, so he has to be pretty smart in order to figure that one out. They don’t have guest log ins because of how bad the area is, but people just present an ID and Barbara logs it. Doesn’t even have to be a real ID, just something that they can trace back to anyone ordering bomb parts off of Abacus.

Peter being covered in bruises like that, and also getting into her computer system? It leaves a bad taste in her mouth Her immediate thought was that Peter was forced to do it. Forced to order something on the computer so that it couldn’t trace back to them. It wouldn’t be the first time that something like it happened in Gotham. He’s a smart kid, and that can get him into deep sh*t.

Babs [6:37pm]: i noticed he was at the computers after i helped out Signal earlier. you know how it is here, you need a card to log in, and i didn’t recognize him, so he didn’t have one. i was a little suspicious so i started a conversation with him. his accent is from new york

Babs [6:40pm]: tried to get him a card and he said he’d get one next time and sprinted out of here. i wondered if maybe he just used a friend’s card but when i checked the logs, the last card holder to log in was Damian, a few months ago

Babs [6:43pm]: i don’t know, i just thought it was weird that anyone would move TO gotham with a kid that young and then leave them to wander around the city alone? he had no parent with him, and he’s hurt. badly. and then he caught my attention with the ‘hacking my computers and leaving no trace behind’ thing. if i hadn’t caught him on his way out, then i never would have known he was there in the first place

Dicko [6:45pm]: sounds like serious trouble

She resists the urge to say ‘no sh*t.’ She can only imagine what could have happened to Peter. A kid that young shouldn’t know violence, and the fact that he was brought to Gotham unsettles her greatly.

It’s not…

Barbara almost pauses. It couldn’t be a trafficking case, could it? Or a gang thing?

Babs [6:46pm]: at the very least, i’m concerned about why he looked so jumpy when we talked. he sounds like a sweet kid, but if he’s new to town and all by himself, he might get dragged into something. again, from the looks of it. if anyone else notices he can hack, they might try to take advantage of him

Dicko [6:47pm]: guess we keep an eye out 4 him 2night and check on him. did u get a name?

She sighs in relief, despite knowing that Dick wouldn’t even hesitate to help out. She also has no doubt that Jason was paying attention to the chat, even though he swears he doesn’t. He would be keeping an eye out as well, and the others would too.

Babs [6:48pm]: Peter, no last name. he’s about 5’5”, scrawny, wearing a black hoodie and blue jeans, curly brown hair, brown eyes, tan skin. bruises on his neck look like hands from someone older.

-

As the night starts to settle over Gotham City, Peter feels a sense of foreboding settling in on him. It’s a familiar and awful ache in his chest, that leaves him a little breathless.

After he left the library, he spent the rest of the day trying to find anyone that could be from his universe. He followed his spider-senses, but they just led him to weird places, like outside of hardware stores or the police station in another district than the one he appeared in. Neither of which are helpful to Peter right now, so he left it alone.

The trail is cold. There’s no sign of that villain anywhere, or, if there was, it blended into this city too easily.

Peter passed by a lot of crime that he forced himself to stay out of. He could handle the muggings and the petty robberies, but he was also certain he’d get outed as a meta, and he doesn’t want to introduce Spider-Man so soon. Not until he gains his bearings, or wraps his head around this situation.

He’s been on a wild goose chase all day, searching for someone that doesn’t seem to exist, and his prize was a whole lot of nothing. Well, not nothing. He did find a good burger place to eat lunch, and now for dinner, he’s got Chinese take out that reminds him of home.

With it getting dark outside, Peter switched from the streets to the rooftops. He dangles his legs over the side of one now, twirling his fork in the noodles and taking a large bite as he looks out over the city. This rooftop is particularly high, so Peter can keep an eye out for anything that seems out of the ordinary (crime). The cool air bites at the tips of his ears and nose, but he’s warm underneath the jacket that Happy gave him.

He lets a little shiver out as the wind passes by, reflecting on this insane place. It’s… a mess, if only to simplify it.

His spider-senses go off on every street corner; the city is packed full of so many people that he’s sure there’s not enough room for them. It’s even worse in one section that the people have dubbed, so creatively, “Crime Alley”, which used to be called Park Row. The sign outside the limit didn’t have to tell him not to head that direction. He took one look in there and his spider-senses rattled off danger danger danger! So he turned tail and went the opposite direction.

There are fires in the distance of the skyline, mottling the night sky with acrid black smoke, only noticeable through the greenish yellow hue of the city lights. It’s just odd enough to not look like home, with nothing standing out as familiar, while also being something like it.

It makes him feel more nervous than he should be. He chomps onto an eggroll, his legs swinging back and forth in thought.

Spider-Man just ‘helps out the little guy.’ That’s what Peter wants, has always wanted. Aunt May and Uncle Ben always taught him what matters, and what matters most are his neighbors. He helps old ladies with their groceries, listens to old men tell their stories, helps kids with their science homework and fairs, and that… He’s good with that. It’s more than enough of what he wants.

But, Spider-Man is also an Avenger.

They always remind him of that. They don’t expect Peter to fight aliens from outer space, or the world threatening crap that swings overhead. They actually prefer it this way, watching Peter use his powers for something as simple as neighborhood clean up.

He can always see it in their eyes, like they’re watching the future through him. They never got a choice with what to do for their powers and abilities, they were thrown into the fray and left to figure it out. Forced to, lest they let everyone down. So Peter thinks that’s why they’re so eager to keep him out of the big stuff, and… Well, it’s not like he had a chance to be cared for, before. So he lets them fuss over him, lets them care now. It feels nice.

An Avenger who gets cats out of trees is still an Avenger, so he can’t let them down. If they were here, they’d have a clue what to do. Peter has to do right by them, because he’s on their team. He’s just as much a hero as the rest of them. He can’t let them down, nor can he give up.

He’s sure that Tony and the others are looking for him, so he has to look for them too. He wipes away a stress tear from his face, pretending it was never there at all.

But this still… It all reminds him of when he first ran from his last foster house.

That day, it had been cold, and Peter had been truly, completely, alone.

No friends,

No family,

Nothing waiting for him. He was in a brand new jungle, with powers he didn’t fully understand, and grieving a life he was supposed to have.

He wasn’t even reported missing until a week after he left, because Westcott was under the impression that Peter would crawl back there and apologize. Well, like hell was he going to do that.

He made it work then, and he has something great going for him now. He used to be lonely, when he was just ‘Parker’ and Spider-Man. He had a lot of friends, but he always went back to the chicken coop on an abandoned roof that was his shelter and wished he had a real home to go to. He wished he could hear May call his name for dinner one more time, he wished he could run to Ben’s arms and get a big hug. It was silly to imagine, and childish to wish for.

He had resigned himself to that life until he met the Avengers. More specifically, Tony. They gave him a family before and after they found out that Peter was a homeless orphan. They protected him, prevented him from ever having to go back to foster homes that would ultimately fail to love him. And that happened after they found out Peter had been lying to their faces for months.

Peter had left his last foster house when he was 12, a week before Christmas. He had been bitten by the spider and-

And, well, a lot happened that night.

He doesn’t like to dwell on that part.

He had started up Spider-Man a few months after getting his bearings with being homeless. After a year and a half, Spider-Man had a reputation, and so did “Parker.”

That was the name he went by, instead of Peter. It was close enough without it being a lie, so it was his default answer when someone asked him. Parker wasn’t Peter, he was free. Just like Spider-Man isn’t Peter, because no one could hurt Spider-Man and get away with it. Parker may not have been going around stopping crime, but he was helping people. He became pretty well known in his more frequent areas as someone to call when you’re having trouble, because Peter could always find somewhere for them to go. To be safe.

He met Steve and Bucky first, doing just that. He was following a lead of a kidnapper that got away when he was just Parker, and before he could figure out how to get out of a mugging, they were already taking them out. Steve had patched up his face and Bucky had thrown the muggers in the nearest police station.

Peter had given them his name- “Parker.” They offered to walk him home (he didn’t have one) and to call his mom (she’s, like, real dead), and Peter just pointed them in the direction of the kidnapper he was tailing as a distraction, then booked it out of there. He thought that would be the end of it, but he ran into the two of them again a week later at his favorite restaurant, Dug Out.) Man, he misses Biggie’s food right now.)

And then Sam Wilson helped him out of a fight with an older teen that had a grudge against him, and brought him to have lunch with him and Dr. Banner.

It’s amazing what an hour long conversation can do. They had no reason to think that Parker was anything but some scraggly poor genius in a bad neighborhood in Queens, but they sat with him for lunch and Dr. Banner had the nerve to be impressed. Find Peter sitting in Stark Tower learning from Dr. Banner himself, eating dinner at the Tower every other night, and growing close to Tony when the man poached him from Dr. Banner.

The rest was history… save for Peter getting kidnapped by what ended up being a large crime syndicate that was snatching up kids and teens to try and experiment on them, and finding out that was why the Avengers were all over Queens and trying to contact Spider-Man.

Peter still remembers wondering if Tony would write it off. If he’d just wonder for a week or two why Peter stopped coming around, or if he’d keep digging. He had spent months trying to learn more about Peter, like it was some sort of game. At least, that’s what Peter thought it was. He thought that would be it, that he’d have to save himself and all of those other kids, all by himself. He waited for his chance to escape while strapped down on a cold metal experiment table, recalling nightmares of this exact scenario.

And then Tony tore the roof off the lab.

Tony practically destroyed the entire building while looking for Peter. He’ll never forget how tightly Tony had hugged him when he saw Peter, how it felt like Tony thought Peter would disappear if he let go. That was the moment Peter really understood the lengths Tony had gone to just to find him- to find some kid who’d been lying about his name and where he came from the entire time Tony knew him. Peter thought no one would save him, but Tony went looking for him.

That had meant the world. Peter spent so long fighting and fending for himself. And Tony went looking for him. He was there.

Tony became his foster-dad and his mentor after that day, and Peter sleeps soundly at night. He no longer talks to himself at dinner, but talks to his mentors. Sure, he gets annoyed at the commute to Queens every night, but this is a good life now. He lives with Tony and Pepper, he has his own room- Pepper and Peter almost have Tony giving up on the ‘no dog’ front. Peter has a life he thought he’d never deserve, once upon a time.

It’s not… it’s not a typical family. Peter knows that Tony is still just his foster dad, and they haven’t really spoken about much else beyond that. But Peter holds it dearly to his heart all the same, pretends that Tony and Pepper want him, want him, because they had moved the mountains to get Peter in their house at all. The idea that if this all goes wrong, if Peter can never go back, and he’ll get stuck at the beginning again?

That terrifies him. Just a lot little.

He’s eating alone for the first time in months. Sitting atop a roof in an unfamiliar city, in an unfamiliar world, looking down at the people below and wondering what’s in store for him.

Scared that he’ll mess it up, like he messes everything up.

…He made it work back then, and he’s gonna make it work now. He’s not gonna give up just because it’s going to be hard. Peter fought for the family that he has right now, he’s not going to let some asshat take that away from him. If that means navigating through Crime Central and fighting off this mysterious Batman, he’ll do it.

He can already think of what it’ll be like when he gets back to his own world, when all of this is over. Everyone will let him pick dinner (tradition is that whoever had the last crazy adventure gets to pick what they all eat), and they’ll talk about this crazy alternate world that Peter went to. One day it’ll turn into a distant, funny memory.

They’ll have loads of fun with the superheroes and vigilantes of this place. What were their names again? Nightwing… Red Robin, Batman… something with an S? Spoil…? There were more, he remembers…

…behind… hello!

Peter’s senses tingle from his neck down his spine, but it isn’t danger.

He hadn’t heard the incredibly calm heartbeat until now, not with the noise of the city. But he can hear them now, lurking in the shadows somewhere behind him. There’s the gentle pad of a foot, the breath out as they see him. They’re approaching from another rooftop, but why?

It’s not danger, like he said. Just an alert that someone is watching, has noticed him too. But what are they doing on a roof?

Peter turns to face behind him, eyes scanning the dark shadows. He can sort of see a figure there, can hear their heart spike. Are they scared?

Of him?

Why would-

Oh.

He’s not in costume, and whoever is in the shadows is used to lurking. Peter shouldn’t have been able to spot them.

Taking another bite of his food, Peter turns back around, as if he hadn’t saw anything there. He chews for a few seconds, an anxious sweat starting to form as the seconds tick by. Why are they just staring at him? They aren’t even speaking, they’re just watching him eat. Is it that weird for him to be up here?

Should he say something? Or should he-

“You shouldn’t sit on the ledge like that, it’s super dangerous.”

Peter startles, surprised they actually spoke. He thought they were content with hiding in the shadows, but apparently not. He turns to look behind him again, one of his cheeks filled with food and he hopes it doesn’t make him look stupid.

The figure is no longer hiding in the dark, but instead leaning on a wall in the light. Peter blinks at him, his mind flashing with the description of his costume- because the wiki article never gave a picture. He recalls a plan to avoid the vigilantes of this world for now, but that’s apparently easier said than done.

Peter thinks this might be Nightwing. He has an even tan, a domino mask covering his eyebrows, the tops of his cheeks, and his eyes. Preventing his identity from being known, much like Peter before his final mask design.

Wavy black hair is pulled back to stay out of his face, and his suit is cooler than Peter imagined. Blue and black, with a bold bird design on the front. The wings spread into blue stripes down his arms. He has the build of Captain America, maybe a little more muscular. The man is somewhere in his mid to late twenties, probably, and he looks… worried.

Oh, right. Because Peter is dangling his legs off the side of a really tall building. Duh-doi, Parker.

Peter carefully picks his to-go box off of his lap and swings his legs back over the side to look safer, all the while glancing at Nightwing. The vigilante looks better with Peter not hanging off the side, but he’s more satisfied when Peter scoots away from it altogether.

“Uh, hi?” Peter says after swallowing his food.

Nightwing steps closer, calm and collected. Peter’s spider-senses do not move, no indication that he should watch out for this man. He takes a seat in front of Peter, matching his criss-cross style and setting his hands on his knees.

He’s very relaxed in his movements, but Peter can sense an apprehension there. And for some reason, when Peter’s eyes take in the small details of his face that he can see, he looks…

He looks like a face that Peter hasn’t seen in a long time, but Peter can not recall a memory or a name.

“Hi,” Nightwing smiles, and Peter wishes he could see where the man was looking. It makes it harder to tell what he’s thinking, and his heartbeat is exceedingly calm in a way that reminds Peter of Natasha. “You know there’s a curfew, right?”

Curfew? Oh yeah. That’s why he’s up here in the first place.

So it must be weird that he’s up here, after all. He isn’t used to that. Sure, no one is really dangling their feet off of the side of buildings, but people have roof parties, and he stumbles across the lone straggler or smoking groups in New York. Maybe Gotham is too crime-infested for even that bit of fun.

“…They said not to be on the street after dark.” Peter points out slowly. “This is a roof.”

Nightwing stares at him, a tiny, almost exasperated, smile on his lips. “You… It’s still dangerous to be up here. How’d you even get up here?”

“Fire escape.” Peter says, thankful he checked for that earlier. He gestures towards where it is vaguely, then tilts his head in thought. “…You’re that Nightwing guy, right? Are vigilantes enforcing curfew? Aren’t you busy?”

Nightwing shakes his head, leaning back to lean on his hands casually, as if he regularly chats with civilians like this. Maybe he does. Peter does it. “I am that Nightwing guy, but no, I’m not enforcing curfew. I’m just making sure you knew that, since you could get into trouble that way.”

Peter shrugs, continuing to eat his food. Vigilante be darned, he’s not letting this get cold and go to waste. “There was no clause stating I couldn’t chill on a roof.”

“I guess you’re right.” Nightwing doesn’t sound mad about it, which is good. He actually sort of sounds like a nice guy, which means this is more information on him than Peter ever got from online. He supposes he’s relaxed too much around the man, but his spider-senses not ringing makes it easier to do so. “Are you… sight seeing?”

“You could say that.”

“What’s there to look at, though?” Nightwing is doing a great job of selling his city. Well, Peter guesses that he’d have a hard time trying to be prideful of where he’s from if Queens was this bad. Even though Queens was super dangerous before Peter started acting as Spider-Man, it had never been Gotham bad.

“I dunno. I’m new here. I guess old habits die hard.”

Nightwing tilts his head at him. “You moved to Gotham? Where were you before? New York?”

Ah, his accent must give him away. He’ll be glad to have a voice modulator if he runs into the vigilantes while in his spider-suit.

“Queens.” Peter answers, and he wonders how often he’s going to get that question in that exact same tone. “Got a little homesick and came up here, but it’s not the same.”

It’s not a lie. Peter is missing the Avengers right now, and their obsession with Scarpetta’s Italian takeout. He’s missing late night lab conversations with Tony, and missing the familiarity of Queens. Here is different, yet reminding Peter of being alone. He doesn’t like it.

“You always hang out on roofs?”

You have no idea.

“The view is much better in Queens.” Peter smiles into his food, looking up at Nightwing, who doesn’t take offense. He chuckles at the comment, but the worry doesn’t appear to be going away.

In fact, Peter feels another spider-tingle. This time, it’s as though Nightwing’s gaze is directed at him, but Nightwing is turned away to look at the skyline at the moment. Peter doesn’t like that his mask covers that.

“Why Gotham?”

Peter had said earlier to Barbara that it was cheap rent, but that doesn’t make as much sense now that he’s had time to think about it. He settles on a lie, though he feels bad for telling it.

“My dad’s business, I guess. Wasn’t told much else.”

Nightwing takes a moment to reply, and Peter wonders if that was a weird response.

“What does he do?”

Peter shrugs. If he was older, feigning ignorance would be harder. But he’s 14, and he can pretend not to know. “I dunno, old man stuff? He doesn’t talk about it with me.”

Nightwing smiles again, but it’s a thin one. “I wish I could say you might like it here, but…”

“But your city’s crime rate is 100%?” Peter takes another bite of eggroll. Nightwing nods knowingly, and Peter’s eyes glance towards the smoke-filled horizon. “Honestly, I’m not too worried about it. There are vigilantes here. Don’t know if you heard.”

Meaning, well, Batman and those Robins. But him, too. He’s a superhero, even though Nightwing only sees a scrawny kid. Or, well, he’s not really out there defeating aliens from outer space, and his hardest villain to beat is Black Cat, the cat burgler, so it’s more like just a regular hero/vigilante stuff. But he’s been told his strength would set him up for superheroness if he wanted. Peter can take care of himself, he’s done it before. People underestimate him only because Peter isn’t normal, and they have no idea.

Nightwing finally relaxes, sitting up straight again. “You have a lot of confidence in us?”

“Well, maybe, after I see your track record.” Peter pokes his food with his fork, taking on an air of mock superiority. “Got a resume I can look at, Mr. Nightwing?”

“I left in the Batmobile.” Nightwing feigns disappointment, and holding his hands up in a What Can You Do? motion. Peter pauses on that word- Batmobile? Seriously?- but Nightwing doesn’t notice. “You’ll have to trust me on this one.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I get kidnapped or something.” Peter jokes. But this time, it falls flat.

Nightwing is quiet for a long pause, and he eventually sighs as if holding a great weight. His voice is thick with an emotion Peter can’t name, when he asks, “So what happened?”

Peter stares at him. Is it that easy to tell Peter is from an alternate dimension? It took one look? Is Peter that out of place here? “Huh? What do you mean?”

Nightwing reaches up to touch his own neck, then points at Peter. “To you, kid. What happened to you?”

Peter’s back itches with the healing factor, a reminder that it wasn’t done repairing whatever happened to Peter when he crashed earlier. There’s a distinct lack of that healing itch on his neck, and Peter hadn’t paid much attention to how often he had been clearing his throat, or how scratchy his voice was.

He forgot it was even there. His healing factor had still been working on his back, because it always focuses on the worst injury first- oh, wow. He’d been parading around the city looking purple and yellow all day without even knowing. That explains the crazy looks he kept getting. How stupid could he be?

And then, Peter recalls the grip that had reached around his throat, so tight, so angry with him even though Peter did nothing wrong, that reminds him of Westcott’s house-

“I don’t know.” Peter blurts out. He directs his gaze to his food instead of Nightwing’s stare. How can the guy have such a piercing gaze without Peter seeing his eyes? And who says I don’t know about that? Is Peter really a genius, like everyone keeps telling him? He thinks he might be a f*cking idiot.

“It hurts, doesn’t it? You can tell me what happened, I can help you.”

Help?

Peter doesn’t think so.

He’s just a random street kid right now. A meta-human, as they call it, who shouldn’t be in Batman’s city. With no proof that he’s from an alternate dimension- and could, actually, be seen more as a threat than someone they need to help. And Peter remembers the times before when he was hurt by adults who wanted to ‘help’, before the Avengers. He remembers being strapped down to a table, being poked and prodded like his nightmares always showed him, remembers feeling weak when Tony got him out of there.

Strangers are bad. Peter knows. Strangers can hurt you. Or they send you somewhere where you’ll get hurt. And they’ll think they’re doing something right.

He stopped trusting those kinds of people a long time ago. Even if they fully mean well, they just wanted to send Peter into the system. Or back home to his foster parents. Peter can’t stand the thought of those places, it hurts more than the bruises on his neck.

Nightwing’s gaze feels like it’s burning through Peter’s skull. Trying to get him to look up.

“Was it your dad?”

Peter shoots up to glare at him, anger sparking up too fast, but Peter can’t hold it back. He fumes at Nightwing, “Don’t ever say that. He would never hurt me.”

Not Tony. Tony would never hurt me, not like the others.

Nightwing’s hands rise in surrender, his eyebrows raising and his heartbeat picking up for a second, before calming once more. “I’m sorry, kid, I just- It’s bad. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” Peter stabs his fork a little too aggressively into his plate.

“So if not your dad, then who?”

“Just- a guy- I don’t remember!” Peter scowls at Nightwing, then pointedly looks away with a very much not childish thank you very much huff. “Aren’t you busy?”

“I’m not-”

The buzzing from Nightwing’s comm interrupts him. Peter raises a brow, and Nightwing knows he’s been caught. The man huffs in frustration, jumping to his feet and stepping towards the ledge.

“And off he goes.” Peter mutters, knowing the all too familiar cut off of a hero. He can’t help Peter. Getting back to Tony and Pepper will help him. He can already hear his mentors telling him to be careful teaming up with someone, because even people who appear to be good guys can have an agenda.

“I’ll see you again,” Nightwing promises, and Peter shakes his head. This guy is insistent. “You’ll catch a cold if you stay out here too long. Make sure to get inside and rest, kid, even if it is a Saturday.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Nightwing sets a hand on his heart in mock offense, one foot on the ledge and the wind tousling his hair. There’s a chatter from his comm that sounds like more than one voice this time. It almost sounds like when the Avengers jab at each other and it sets off a round of teasing. The familiarity of it strikes Peter hard, and he looks away from Nightwing’s face.

“…Stay safe.” Nightwing tells him, and it feels heavy in the air.

Peter forces himself to look up at him, because the guy was only trying to help. He doesn’t know what else he sees in Nightwing’s expression before he takes off into the night.

He leaps from the side of the building with a graceful twist, an air of extravagance that reminds Peter of a circus act- a high rise leap of a performer. It’s beautiful and practiced, and Peter itches to copy it, telling himself later. He extends a grappling hook into the air at a safe distance, almost similar to the way Peter would swing his web, and he’s gone in a moments notice. Leaving Peter alone of the roof once more.

He sighs to himself, biting back a frown and setting the empty to-go box to the side.

He feels guilty, getting so annoyed. It’s just- Peter, he knows Tony. He trusts Tony, one of the only people in the world who knows exactly what Peter went through. The man would never raise a fist, let alone his words, in Peter’s direction. So for some reason, the idea that Tony could do something like leave bruises on Peter, it made his skin crawl and that anger he tries to push down crawl up, loud and nasty.

But Nightwing was only trying to help… If he sees Nightwing again, he should apologize for snapping.

Peter was worried about meeting Gotham’s vigilantes, but apparently as long as he’s in civilian clothes, he’ll be fine. For Nightwing, at least. He knows nothing about the others. If it went as well as it could have gone, maybe he… could trust Nightwing? But Peter has no proof, nothing to say that he isn’t crazy.

Man, Peter has the weirdest luck. He’s always meeting superheroes randomly like this. That’s how the Avengers found out about him, when they were running around Queens for something entirely different. They kept running into Peter, and adopted him soon after that.

But that won’t happen here. He has a family already.

-

Dick stretches out his arm, wincing when he feels the pull of his muscle. He almost botched his shoulder after a bad landing earlier. He can only blame himself for that- he had gotten distracted, thinking about Peter.

It was even worse than what Babs had described to him. He was blatantly hoping that when he got there it would be early Halloween makeup, because the holiday isn’t that far off from now. But it wasn’t, he could tell based on the way the kid reacted. He knew real injuries when he saw them.

Firstly, Dick nearly had a heart attack when Peter had turned around. He thought he was being quiet, but the kid locked eyes with him. As in, made eye contact with him. At least, he thought so. He must have just heard Dick, somehow. Maybe his feet landed just a little too rough?

But it wasn’t just that. It was that when Peter turned around, the bruises on his face were that bad. They had to have come from big fists, they were that large on his cheek. His lip busted, and his neck…

Dick has to take a deep breath.

He’s a cute kid, baby faced and innocent eyes. And he’s got a clever sense of humor, one that seems a little adult for such a young person. Clearly, he had to grow up faster than he should have. He was familiar, somehow, and Dick couldn’t shake off the hurt that ate away at his chest when he saw him.

Maybe it was that the kid has his mother’s eyes- not just because of the strikingly similar color, but that they held a hope in them even when getting defensive. Or it could be that Peter reminded him of Jason. Of all of his siblings. Of himself. A kid that grew up too fast because the world has been cruel to him. He’s too young to look so scared.

And scared is what he was.

He froze when Dick pointed out the bruising. And his face had crumbled, shutting himself off before Dick could find anything out about him. A fear that runs bone deep had flashed in his eyes, and Dick believes he shouldn’t have been surprised when Peter ended up getting defensive. Fear does that to people.

“What are you glaring at the floor for?”

Dick purses out his bottom lip, furrowing his brows but not looking up from the ground. His suit is halfway off, too tired to undo it fully. Or he’s taking his time because he’s still distracted, mind racing with thoughts.

Tim isn’t the same. He couldn’t wait to get into a clean robe, wearing slippers on his feet and obviously going straight to the shower. But he had stopped when he saw Dick wasn’t moving from his spot on the bench.

“Hello? Earth to Nightwing?” Tim waves his hand in front of Dick’s face.

“Babs ran a background check on foster-kids going into Gotham.” Dick says slowly.

“Are you talking about that Peter kid?” Tim tilts his head to the side, and Dick nods. There’s a moment where Tim contemplates what to say next, always s careful with his words. “…What did you two talk about that has you like this?”

They had only heard the last bit of their conversation, after Dick’s comms were forcibly connected by Babs to the others. Killer Croc had gotten out of Arkham, and Dick couldn’t waste time and had to go look. But he didn’t think Peter was a waste of time.

“It was bad, Tim.” Dick finally looks up at the other. Tim frowns down at him, concern etched on his face. “The bruising. Someone tried to kill him, there’s no other explanation. I’m seriously worried for his life.”

Tim is quiet for a moment, an unease settling on him. It’s unfortunate, but they see a lot of kids with bruises. Mostly from kids in gangs, or kids who got targeted at school, whatever the case. But it isn’t often that they worry this much, or see bruising like that. Not on a kid, anyway.

“Babs said his neck was bruised…?”

“Someone older had to have done it. You can see the finger prints, the hands weren’t from a kid.” Dick’s anger rises, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. He stretches out his shoulder again, growing more tense by the second. “He closed off when I pointed them out, swears that his dad didn’t do it.”

“How do you know he’s a foster kid?” Tim sits down on the bench next to Dick.

“There are no families moving to Gotham that have a ‘Peter’ who matches the description, so Babs ran through foster families too, just in case. It’s a short list of kids from outside coming here, which isn’t a surprise. Peter isn’t on that list either. So we don’t know if he’s a foster kid or not.”

“Did she check Gotham’s records? Maybe he was lying, and he’s been here longer. He was trying not to get caught doing something, right? He hacked into the library computer without a log in.” Tim’s voice lowers, and Dick can tell that this part of Peter’s story had caught his interest. “Maybe we should check if there are any imports coming in…”

“Imports of what?”

“Drugs, guns, bombs…”

“I don’t think the kid is involved in that kind of stuff…”

Tim sighs as if he doesn’t want to tell Dick this. “He may not have had a choice. He might be a good kid who just got… caught up in it. And… Well, I don’t know if you’ve considered it yet, but what if it’s a trafficking case?”

Dick looks back down at the floor. He can’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the case, but he has no evidence to support it. He just keeps thinking back to the face that the kid made. He sincerely hopes that trafficking isn’t what happened to Peter, he’d rather it be… No, there’s nothing he’d rather about it. He wishes none of it happened. But please don’t let it be that.

“You want us to check on him?”

He turns to his brother, recognizing the tone. “By ‘check’ you mean-”

“Don’t call it stalking. Just call it watching. Checking.” Tim suggests. “You wanna make sure he’s alright, right? We’ll keep an eye out for him, and you know, if it just so happens we’re passing by-”

“Waiting outside his window-”

“-passing by and we see something going on, we can put a stop to it.” Tim finishes, and Dick can’t find it in himself to say anything against it. He considered it too, but- “I know you’re gonna be going back and forth between here and Bludhaven for a while, considering we need the help with Croc, Two-Face, and the Firefly out. You’re gonna be stretched thin, and I know you aren’t gonna stop worrying about the kid. But it would help knowing we’re watching him, right?”

Tim says it’s easy to read Dick, that it’s always clear what he’s thinking. Dick is always interpreting their emotions, and finds it hard to cover up his own. He wears everything on his face, in his eyes. Tim’s offer isn’t just coming from an interest in the fact that the kid is hard to find.

“Thanks, Timmy,” Dick reaches up to mess with his hair, and Tim groans and leans back from him.

“I’ll take back the offer if you keep messing with me.”

“Messing with you?” Dick scoffs, standing up and pushing both hands into his hair. Tim tries to grab at his wrists to make him stop. “I’m showing brotherly affection!”

“You’re attacking me is what you’re doing!”

“Deal with my love and care!”

"I'd rather willingly update my medical file." Tim lies, like a lying liar.

-

Peter couldn’t wait to get out of there, anxious that Nightwing would choose to come back the very same night just to ask him more questions that Peter doesn’t have the answers to. He can’t afford letting the vigilante get nosy, because it wouldn’t take much for him to figure out something is up with Peter.

He took his shelter underneath a water silo- and it was not lost on him that he did the exact same thing when he ran away from Westcott’s house- and dumped out his backpack’s contents after his conversation with Nightwing. It took less than five minutes to find one, but Peter ended up searching for an extra ten just because he didn’t want to hang around that same spot and be more easy for Nightwing to find.

Back in his home universe, he had taken a chicken coop and an old, empty water silo and used that as his shelter when he was homeless. It was all connected through fencing and wood and a lot of sweat and tears to make it livable. It was the best that he could do, far enough away from people in an abandoned neighborhood, so nobody ever saw Spider-Man coming and going. He had turned the old chicken nests into cubbies and shelves for his belongings (and he did have a lot, considering Peter was constantly finding junk to turn into Spider-Man stuff, and also books and notebooks that he got his hands on.) He even had the privilege of battery powered Christmas lights he strung up on the inside of the coop and the outer part where the mesh fencing was.

It hadn’t been a house, but it was insulated and had food and a mattress that wasn’t diseased, so Peter liked it. It was his very own place, his spot in the world that no one else could get to. Peter sometimes goes back to visit it on the rough days after he was taken in by Tony, but he found that it was a lot less of a home than it used to feel. So he would go home.

But here, he doesn’t have any of that. No Christmas lights, no chicken cubbies, no mattress. He uses some old wooden boards that were stacked against the roof entrance to make walls (though there are cracks in between them) and left an opening for a sliver of light. It gave him some illusion of privacy and a break from the wind. It wasn’t insulated at all, so the cold still bothered him, but it wasn’t that bad of a night. At least, not yet. He can hear a couple arguing underneath him in their apartment, so he made sure the door to the roof was locked for good measure.

Scanning the dumped contents of his backpack… it’s evident that the supplies he has are limited.

A few granola bars, his school notebooks, a textbook for English, and his emergency money. As well as his Spider-suit and mask, his webshooters, and an extra jacket. Which will come in handy as a blanket, while his backpack can be a pillow for the night. It won’t be comfortable, but he’s dealt with a loss less on hand.

Peter opened his notebooks after stuffing everything else back in the backpack, popping open a pen and forcing himself to focus. Using his memory (and a lot of muttering), he wrote down everything that he could remember about the guy that attacked him. He drew (though, he is not an artist) the man’s face and his hands, but more specifically, he drew that wrist piece that he wore.

Spacial jump technology, of all things. Teleportation that led to multiversal travel- it’s practically unheard of, outside of magic. It’s still theory for science… but science is just magic that can be explained, right? Peter knows there are a few people that can teleport, but he was never privy to their names or anything like that. They were just mentioned in passing.

The wrist tech looked like a watch and a gauntlet of some kind, but the man’s fingers were visible. The piece started at his knuckles and pulled back to stop around mid-forearm, clinging to the skin there tight so that it’s hard to remove.

It was a tech he’s never seen before. It was unusual, and clunky, like it had just been put together. Or, rather, used with weird junkyard parts. Peter would know, because his tech looked like that before he had Tony.

Tony…

Peter writes down his name, underneath Stark Tower.

The man had approached Peter only a block away from the tower- that can’t be coincidence. Tony is known as Iron Man, and Peter is known as his foster-son. There had been two months of paparazzi and social media trying to figure him out, and they never got anywhere because Tony had wiped clean any sort of record that Peter had online before then. Peter’s only able to go out on his own because he’s Spider-Man.

…Though he’s sure that will be amended when he gets back…

Peter sighs at the lack of privacy he’s going to get. Tony might consider putting him on lock down for a couple months, but Natasha might talk him down. Maybe. It’s a hit-or-miss on that call. His mentors are iffy about what is and isn’t chill. Multiverse travel through forced kidnapping sounds like Peter is going to get locked up in the Tower like Rapunzel. But instead of Ned calling down for Peter’s hair, he’ll take the elevator.

Focusing. He’s focused. That doesn’t matter right now.

What could this man’s motivation be? Revenge on one of the superheroes in the Tower? But they wouldn’t target Peter… not unless it’s something for Tony.

He considered that maybe it could be that he’s Spider-Man, but he doesn’t know if this villain knows that. Because most villains, they’ll refer to him as his super-hero persona, but this one called him “Stark’s kid.”

So it has something to do with Tony. And honestly… Peter’s willing to bet that it was for tech.

That wrist watch has done something incredible, considering where Peter is at right now. It’s an unachievable feat, and yet, here he is. Why would the man risk attacking Peter, when Iron Man was right there around the corner? When the Avengers are around the corner? He’s desperate, that’s what. And Peter thinks he can figure out what someone like him was desperate for: tech for his work.

It makes sense to him. If Peter created something like that, he would be itching to make it better with Stark Tech, not some junkyard parts he’d been using.

But why not just ask? Why fling Peter into another universe? If he had shown up at Tony’s door and was willing to show off what he made, Tony would have hired him, or at least helped fund him after a thorough background check.

Well… The man has anger issues. That could be why he didn’t do that.

He had been so… angry, so volatile, when Peter backed away from him. It was like a switch went off in his head. Peter couldn’t let him hurt someone else who was on the street around them, but without his mask on to protect his identity? He panicked, and that allowed the man to grab him.

He’s unstable, and he probably knows that. Tony would never work with someone that could do something like that, that’s why he recently fired someone else. Tony already went through dealing with the fact that his tech had been used to hurt people, and since then he’s been much more hands-on about choosing who gets access to it.

This guy, he grabbed Peter and started attacking him, but for the most part he was trying to cling on, not let Peter out of his grip… He was trying to bring Peter here. But why? Why did he have to bring Peter to this reality? That part doesn’t make sense to him. He had a spacial jump, so why not just bring Peter somewhere else? Was he trying to prove that his tech works, using Peter, so Tony would have to listen to him?

He feels like trying to understand this man’s motivations is only going to hurt his head, and he’s way too overwhelmed for thinking right now.

“You need some sleep before using that big brain of yours. Preferably a normal amount, but I won't snitch.”

Tony says that all the time, even though the man never takes his own advice. Peter thinks it’s a little hypocritical because of that, but it’s not like he can win that argument. Tony is probably up right now-

Peter feels like he’s just taken a shot to the heart. Tony and Pepper are probably so worried right now.

He can’t imagine what it must be like for them. He’s feeling lost right now, but at least he has more information about what happened. If they don’t know what had happened, it probably looks so bad right now. They might think Peter is dead. Or lost in their world, somewhere where he can’t reach them. Or- Or…

Or a lot of things. They have nothing to go on. Tony hates that.

… Tony had been scared.

Peter had never seen him that terrified before, not even when he had rescued Peter from that lab. When he missed Peter’s hand and only grabbed ash, he thought he saw a heartbreak in Tony’s face.

Oh, god, Tony’s heart.

What if something goes wrong? The arc reactor- that stable humming that Peter clings to at night to make sure Tony is alive down the hall- what if Tony freaks out so bad that it can’t help him? What if Peter gets back only to find out that the stress killed him? It would be all his fault.

Again.

Just like Aunt May, you remember. You killed her, it was your fault.

“I didn’t know she was sick.” Peter hisses at himself, pushing the notebook out of reach. The papers flutter and crinkle where he threw it, the pen skittering towards the crack in the wood around him.

There’s that evil voice in his head again, telling Peter his worst fears, as if he wasn’t aware of it all on his own. He takes a deep breath and tries to relax, just like his therapist said to. In for four, hold for four…

“I didn’t know she was sick. Her heart would have gave out at some point. It wasn’t my fault. I was just a kid.” Peter tells himself aloud, listening to the dark around him.

He sat in the dark like this the day that Aunt May died.

Peter had been so excited for that day. Ben was away but was trying to get there that night. May brought him to the fair, the two of them having more snacks than Peter thought they could afford, going on rides together, running around under the sun. May had been having a hard week, so seeing her smile and laugh made Peter only want to make it happen more. He kept trying to be silly, feeling like a flower reaching towards the sky when she smiled at him.

Everything had been so perfect, so nice. Until he had accidentally let go of May’s hand when they passed by the parade.

He was distracted by the balloons in the sky, and then someone bumped his shoulder and the crowd swept him up. Peter got scared and he ducked into an alley, stayed there in sight of the sidewalk but out of reach. He pressed himself up against the wall and put his head in his knees, waiting. Because Aunt May always told him that if he gets lost, he needs to stay in one spot, and she’d come find him.

But it kept getting darker, and the parade ended. It wasn’t until the cold set in and he was shivering that Peter knew something was wrong. But still, he sat there for hours just like he was told to do.

He didn’t know she died until Uncle Ben found him, after hours of the police and a search party looking for him. She collapsed in the street before she could tell anyone she lost him, and Uncle Ben was at a fireman’s recruiting event, so he didn’t get the call until he was back in an area with cell service. Uncle Ben had been the one to find him.

He was just around the corner from where she died.

“It wasn’t my fault. The stress didn’t kill her.” Peter murmurs, staring at his shoes and hugging his knees tight to his chest. He feels small again. Waiting for someone to come get him, but knowing that this time he shouldn’t wait.

“Tony won’t have a heart attack.” Peter assures himself. “It’s just me.”

Right. It’s just Peter that was lost. He isn’t Tony’s real son, he’s just a student. Sure, the man cares about Peter, and Peter trusts him more than anything. He knows that Tony will come looking for him. But surely, his heart wouldn’t give out for a student.

“That’s right. Everything will be okay. Tony will know what to do.”

-

Tony thinks he might be dying. He isn’t sure.

He isn’t a superstitious man. He doesn’t believe in heaven, not anymore. He was always iffy about it when he was a kid, too. He doesn’t believe in good luck or bad- he just believes the world is what it is. He always tells Peter that “Parker Luck” isn’t real, that he isn’t cursed, and that bad things happen but it’s important to move on from that.

Hell, he would tell other people too, even the religious ones, what he thinks. He didn’t care if someone thought he was abnormal, or sacrilegious, or whatever word-of-the-day they could pin on him. Life is easier when he isn’t battling to understand the whims of made up gods or concepts.

But when he watched Peter at breakfast that morning, he thought he felt something wrong, like a gut feeling.

He had felt it before. He would excuse it because he knew what a “gut feeling” really was: his mind collecting information and knowing that he was close to a realization that he wasn’t paying attention to. When he met Peter, all of the signs were there, laid out in front of him, and Peter was a puzzle that he figured out.

The kid was obviously from a bad neighborhood, pretty poor. He talked about a mother that he lived with that wasn’t around often. He and the others were investigating Queens at the time for a string of missing kid cases that were causing alarm. And if the kids did turn up, they were dead before they reached the hospital. When Steve and Bucky first met Peter, he was another face among those kids that were potential targets, and then he turned out to be a brilliant little sh*t. Annoyingly so.

It was good information, coming from Peter who knew Queens well. They asked about his friends, and Peter even mentioned kids going missing that they hadn’t gotten reports on. But what started as a way to get information (and he says this loosely, because he knew damn well that Peter was going to get into a good school and still be around to learn from Bruce and Tony either way), ended up with Tony getting attached.

Tony tried not to admit it, but Peter was an infectious thing. He was fascinating to figure out, but Tony grew fond of his rambling and his energy.

Peter is a bad liar. Tony knew for a long time that Peter was probably more alone than he let on, if his mother was even real. Tony had that gut feeling and he knew it was his mind connecting dots about Peter’s life. The signs that he was abused at some point in his life or recently, signs that he wasn’t being taken care of.

Tony knew when Peter was kidnapped. But he didn’t believe in that sort of thing. Not until he was struck by it again.

That feeling, it had lingered when Pepper kissed Peter’s hair before she left for work. It stuck around when Tony ruffled his hair, a promise to meet him at the lab after school. It stayed when he watched Peter walk away, a sleepy smile on his face.

And Tony, he stood there for a few minutes, staring at the elevator where Peter had left, something sinking in. That feeling that Tony had before, that had led to the worst few days of Tony’s life where he searched for Peter and begged that he’d be okay.

Something was wrong. Again.

It almost feels like how Peter tells Tony his spider-sense works. Something nagging at him that he needs to be careful, whispering in his ear that he needs to watch out. But for what?

What could be wrong?

What was he missing?

What dots hadn’t connected yet?

Tony never knew what parents meant, when they told people that they could feel when something was wrong with their kid. His father wasn’t like that in any sense of the word, and Tony thought it was just something that parents told themselves in order to feel better.

But FRIDAY confirmed it.

“Boss, Parker’s phone just signaled an SOS alert.”

Time felt slow. He was moving too slow. Or maybe the enemy was moving too fast.

Tony was out the door in seconds- he’s reviewed the footage for hours, unable to look away from the screens and see an empty space next to him where Peter is supposed to be. Peter and this villain were gone in less than a minute from the start of their interaction.

A minute. That’s all it took, and Tony would laugh if the stress wasn’t slowly killing him. Time had worked against him.

He asked himself if he could have been faster. He asked himself if one minute was too slow, and the answer is yes. It’s his fault.

Tony saw his kid turning into dust in the air, and heard the crack in his voice, knew that he was in pain and there was nothing Tony could do to stop it. The kid’s voice keeps replaying in his mind. Every time he blinked, Peter’s face was there, his hand gone before Tony could grab him.

When Tony took Peter in, he swore that the kid would not be hurt the way he was before. There was no way he could stop Peter from being Spider-Man, not unless he locked the kid away in a high security facility, and that was no way for Peter to live. But Tony could train him, could teach him, the way he should have been taught. Peter wouldn’t have to worry about being anything but the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, but he could be trained to deal with anything that comes his way.

The kid had done everything right, just like he was taught. He refused to talk to the man that approached him, and when he started attacking, Peter fought. Tony could see a technique that Natasha had burned into Peter’s mind to get out of someone’s hold. He saw Peter throw a punch the way Bucky taught him to. He wasn’t going down easy, and Tony can’t be more proud of him for that. They struggled and Peter managed to get a good few hits in.

The problem is that the man that attacked Peter has to also be enhanced. No one else would have lasted against a hit that hard from Peter, and no one else would have managed to get past Peter’s reflexes and be able to grab him.

Peter had done everything right. It was Tony that messed up.

He couldn’t reach them in time. He hadn’t grabbed Peter in time, because Peter disappeared in mere seconds, and he has to keep telling himself that. Less than a minute, that was how long it took for Peter to go from standing outside the Tower to falling through the sky above the harbor.

But Tony just wasn’t fast enough. That was the problem. It is his fault, and he can’t forgive himself for this. How can he, when he had that feeling before Peter even left? He knew that something was wrong. Why did he ever let Peter walk out that door? He broke the promises that he made to himself and the promise he made to Peter, to always be there for him.

“You need to eat something, tin man.” Natasha slaps a plate down on the table next to him. Tony pushes it away, the plate sliding down the table and landing at the edge, almost tipping over.

“Get out of my face.” He states too harshly, and inwardly he feels like a dickhe*d for that, but that's nothing new.

“You going to yell at me like you did with everyone else?”

“I said get out!” Tony stands from the table, the stool clanging against the tile. Natasha catches it in a smooth motion before it can clatter to the floor, putting it back upright with an ease that manages to piss Tony off just the same.

“I assume that’s a yes.”

“Have you found him?” Tony rounds on her- because God, if she’s going to stick around to annoy him, she had better deal with his anger. Natasha’s cool gaze sends spikes through his nerves, the anger flickering. She’s figuring him out with just a single glance, and he hates that. She sighs after a moment, setting the stool down on the ground. "Have any of you found him? Anything?"

“No.”

“Then I don’t want to hear it.” Tony waves her away, and before she can protest, he feels the anger swell. “I don’t want to hear it! I don’t want to hear anything, if it isn’t that my son isn’t dead!"

“You won’t chase me out,” Natasha warns, taking Tony’s previous seat. She relaxes against the counter, tapping her finger idly. “And you know, if you shout like that, your heart is going to give out again.”

“To hell with my heart, it doesn’t matter.”

“Peter wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Tony fumes silently, pacing along the floor like a caged animal. He feels like a caged animal. He's been cooped up in this room waiting for something, anything, and he keeps lashing out at anyone who dares to enter the room. Icicle Man had something thrown at him, Tony doesn't remember. He keeps looking out the window, the damn spot where Peter had disappeared mocking him as he looks out at it.

He knows she’s right, of course. They're all right, that's what's so frustrating. He had nearly fallen out of the sky when Peter was gone, his heart sputtering, that fluttering and dangerous feeling before growing tight like a vice in his chest. Peter had admitted once that the steady thrum of the arc reactor eased some of his worry. He could hear it, that constant humming that told Peter that if something happened, it would keep him safe.

It had worked that time, but Tony had come a little too close to persistent problems over these two days.

Two days, where nothing is found. Not a trace of Peter other than the kid’s phone on a rooftop. But what would they have found? A body?

No, he refuses to go there. He is not allowed to grieve, because that is ridiculous. Peter isn’t dead. He can’t be- he won’t be dead. Tony would know. He isn’t a superstitious man, but he thinks he understands now what it means when parents say, “I know when something is wrong.”

He would know. If Peter had died, he would know.

But then, pray tell, where the f*ck is his kid? He’s not in the the sea, he’s not in the sky. He’s not in the streets of New York, and no one has heard of anything outside of the area. Peter would have called by now, he’s such a good kid, despite also being a little sh*t that eats all of his food and has the mentality of a deaf puppy that is dead set on learning how to swim without help. He would have called Tony immediately, and if that didn’t work, he would call Pepper, Rhodey, or Happy.

Their phones didn’t ring, and if they did, Peter was not on the other line.

“I know,” He finally says, biting down the mean, nasty things he wants to say. Because he knows they’re looking, and he can’t blame them. It’s his own damn fault he can’t be out searching. His heart is too unstable for Tony to take risks, and Pepper begged him to get rest.

“You need to eat something, and you need to sleep. Pacing this room is only going to drive you crazy.” Natasha reminds him, grabbing the plate and setting it in Tony’s view again. It’s a cheap microwave pasta, as if she knows Tony can’t stomach to eat anything good until Peter is safe.

“Well, that's just it. I already feel crazy, Nat.” Tony runs a hand through his hair. The hand that had gripped onto air and ash. “I feel like- Like a part of me is just missing. Gone. I just-" Tony takes a moment to breathe, to remind himself that Peter is probably fine. Probably. "I lost the kid."

“We’ll get him back.” She promises. Natasha doesn’t promise easily.

Tony can see it, in the corner of his eye. The red underneath the light, the one part of the room he can’t bear to look at. Natasha can, however. She leans her head on her hands to stare at it.

“Did he know?”

Tony’s voice feels choked. “It was gonna be a surprise.”

A surprise. Peter was going to get it today. A new suit, one that Tony swore would keep him safe.

Peter had designed it a long time ago, and Tony kept everything that he could, only adding what was necessary. It wasn’t the suit he wanted to give Peter, the Iron Spider, which he was sure would keep him safe. But this one was that beginning, that small branch into the topic.

It doesn’t feel right, without Peter here to see it.

“He’ll love it.” Natasha tells him. “Because you made it for him. When he gets back, maybe don't show him this for a while. He'll ignore everything we say and beg to test it out immediately and give us all some more heart attacks.”

Future tense. She still thinks they’ll find him.

Maybe Nat has enough history with crazy to understand him right now. She doesn’t even bend under his anger, under his worry and his fear. Maybe she only does it for Peter, as they had never been close like that before. Or because Pepper couldn't be here while they deal with the legal trouble (of Peter going missing, his kid is gone), and the two of them get along.

Tony thinks he might be dying. But he isn’t sure.

-

His emergency funds (a whopping $400, hidden inside of a clip that looks like a sheet of paper) has come in handy a few times since Peter got here.

It’s been four days since the unplanned dimensional travel. Peter is choosing to believe that this is a good thing, somehow, and that he isn’t feeling sick about it or like he wants to tear his hair out and start biting his nails.

Gotham is an unusual place, different from Queens in most ways. But at its heart, a city is a city, and Peter knows the ins and outs better than most people do. Gotham sleeps during the day, and is much more active at night, depending on the district. Because of this, he uses the daytime to roam around (avoiding suspicious adults, which are most of them, if not all) and get a lay of the land. There’s less crowding in the night districts during this time, and that is where he suspects the man that attacked him might be hanging around, if he’s still here.

Daytime is reserved for mapping the streets into his memory, finding hidey holes and shortcuts, getting a sense for the dynamics between those in the daylight and those that wake when the sun goes down. When night falls, Peter is much more like Spider-Man, if not quite him yet. Scratch that- he might be more “Parker” than he is Spider-Man.

Parker knew the streets of Queens like he knew the back of his hand. Nothing could slip past him, he had friends in a lot of places. Parker is the same now, listening and weeding his way into becoming a face people know. He needs to know Gotham and the way she breathes the way he knew Queens. He waits for his spider-sense to act up while getting information about the people and the city.

Because if Peter can become a trusted face like before, Peter will get more information out of people than he would by just eavesdropping. And maybe, someone will be able to tell him what his spider-sense might not find: the hole that the man who dragged him here could be hiding in.

But so far, four days of nothing. It’s just him wandering around day and night, logging his suspicions, theories, etc into his notebook, and figuring out Gotham itself.

He had to get new clothes, so that was a good $50 down the drain at a cheap clothing store. He got a jacket, new underwear, and another pair of pants. He washes everything not currently on him at the laundry mat a block away from his water silo, which has become his temporary base. He figures if he does see Nightwing again, the guy won’t get on his case as much if Peter doesn’t look like he only has one outfit.

And it’s starting to feel like when he sees Nightwing again, not if, because Peter has seen glimpses of the other vigilantes these last few days. As it turns out, he’s not the only one that roams Gotham at night.

Signal is the daytime vigilante, appearing in the street more often than the others. He’s pretty cool, from what Peter can tell. And, a meta, which was surprising. At least, he thinks Signal is a meta. Peter had only gotten to see the tail end of a fight, but there was flashes of gold light that didn’t come from the people that Signal was saving. Peter can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not- would Batman trust Spider-Man, like he apparently trusts Signal? He decided to leave that question for now, because maybe Signal just got special permission or something.

And last night, he had seen Spoiler and Red Robin. He saw the flash of Spoiler’s suit hopping over the alley he was in, and later in the night he saw Red Robin swinging towards a burning building. Peter wonders if he’s supposed to be seeing them…

Because he knows he isn’t supposed to be seeing Batman.

Gotham has a lot to say about their hero. And Peter has been listening intently. The vigilante lurks in the shadows of Gotham, waiting to strike at a moment’s notice. And he’s good at it, Peter has been paying attention to the rumors that fly around. What Gotham lacks for online information, it makes up for in the talk of the streets. Batman is the lurker, the Dark Knight that owns the shadows. It’s his thing, which Peter can appreciate. Spider-Man also blends in to the night, creeping around until it’s time to strike. Peter almost feels bad about ruining whatever this guy is trying to do. Because the problem is, the guy never really stood a chance against his spider-senses.

Half the time, Peter forgets he isn’t supposed to know someone is there and tracking him. No matter if it’s the dead of night, in a poorly lit area, or not. Peter looks up, and then has to pretend he was just looking around in general. He can always hear the small moment where Batman wonders if Peter saw him, where his heart stutters, or the man goes eerily still, barely even breathing.

Which is probably creepy of Peter. (He gets that a lot- that he’s kinda creepy. He sometimes makes sure to be extra spidery around Sam and Rhodey, because they always make a comment. It amuses him to hear “That can’t be natural.”) But if he’s being stalked- and he suspects he is- then he thinks it’s only fair that he lets himself scare the big bad Batman.

Peter hides in the city. It’s easy for him to slip away, to sink into shadows, and not be heard. He just has the advantage over them, being able to hear, smell, and see where they are. He loses Batman more than a few times, sometimes leading the man towards muggings or street fights just to get the man to focus on that instead of Peter. He does the same to Red Robin, who follows Peter as well. The two of them seem to be taking shifts, but last night, they were both on his case.

He’s being stalked.

But the question is: why?

They can’t suspect that he’s Spider-Man, because he hasn’t even shown up yet! Why stalk regular, ordinary Peter Parker? It’s not like they do it during the daytime, either, it’s almost always at evening and night, when they’re supposed to be out patrolling for danger and sh*t like that. They shouldn’t suspect him of anything besides it being weird that Peter walks around at night.

Unless this is about those bruises. Is it seriously because of that one interaction with Nightwing, though? Peter struggles to think that they’d care about one kid in a city this bad- there are hundreds, if not thousands, of kids just like Peter, or worse off than him. They should be focusing on that, it’s not like Peter is in current danger. So, are they good guys, or do they think Peter is up to something?

He wants to trust them, if he’s being honest. But he has never willingly trusted any adults until Tony nearly killed himself proving his worth to Peter. Even now, with therapy, he skirts around authority figures and hides details- stores away anything they could use as fuel against him, like he used to store away his food. Tony and Pepper are patient with him (or as patient as Tony can be), and his mentors try their best too, but… Those are adults that Peter knows and works with. Again, Peter doesn’t know these adults. How can he trust them without knowing them like he knows the Avengers?

At least next time he sees one of them, he’ll be free of the bruises on his neck. They were done healing when he woke up on day two. If that is the case, then they’ll likely leave him alone if he asserts that he’s fine, and he’s not in danger. If they keep coming around, they’re either annoyingly going to try and keep helping him, which will prove that Peter could likely trust them, or it’s because they think Peter is trouble, or could lead them to it.

Peter bites into his burger and tries not to frown. (The food here is delicious, and he wouldn’t want the owner to think he’s dissatisfied.)

He’s at the burger joint he’s taken up as his new spot- he found it day one and he got hooked almost instantly. The burgers remind him of Tony, and that’s what he needs right now. He uses it to get into the mindset of his mentor, tries to think like Tony would (even if he’s not supposed to). If he just knew why the Bats were stalking him, he could try to assuage their fears or suspicions. He could figure out what they want, and in turn, figure out what he wants from them.

He shakes his head clear of the thought for now. He should focus instead on his comms. He’s been wanting to fix it in case Tony or someone else ends up here like him. Though, their comm might end up broken too, and that would defeat the purpose of fixing it. But if it’s Tony that comes, the comm would be a good idea.

The comm in question doesn’t look broken. Peter fiddles with it in between burger bites, detaching the bottom compartment to get a look at the wires inside. Nothing is out of place or wonky, so he has to assume that it was the jump between dimensions that caused the issue. Which means it isn’t likely that he’ll get them working again…

Maybe instead, Peter should just make it again? He could change it out and replicate it almost exactly using the same parts, like it would be brand new. He could keep it on the same frequency or search through them, and if Tony ends up here, he would likely do the same.

…!see it hear that see it?…

Peter lifts his gaze and squints towards the door. From the back of the restaurant, he can barely see the door, but he can hear the bell ring as it opens and the shifting of feet. Someone with shoes that are falling apart based on the squeaking, and another with a more expensive sneaker that might be brand new- probably stolen, based on the fact that Peter saw a shoe store got robbed yesterday in this area. And a smell hits his nose, all too familiar to him. Gunpowder from an already fired gun. There’s the clinking of bullets inside the case.

Ah, sh*t.

The owner moves inside the kitchen, unaware to the bell. The man has a bad ear from his age, and he’s going blind in one eye. Peter had grown attached to this place quickly, and thus grown attached to the grumpy old man. He just grunts when Peter orders food, but he gives extra fries when he thinks Peter won’t notice. It’s perfect. Everyone knows that cheery people don’t make good food unless they’re grandparents.

He knows this place isn’t on the best terms money-wise right now. Every time he comes, he’s the only customer, and Peter doesn’t see many people inside when he passes by during the day.

Peter is just Peter right now… but he can’t let that stop him from helping someone.

He shifts out of the booth (begging for his burger to still be fine when he comes back), and chooses to stay low as his ears perk to listen. Their whispers hiss back and forth- two people. Easy work.

“Just grab the money now.”

“He needs to open the register, idiot!”

Peter raises a brow. One of them is new to this, or is just dumb.

He sneaks along the side of the counter, peeking around the corner. The two men contrast each other. One is lanky with a big puffer jacket, the other is short, a little stubby, and thin clothes. The shorter one has the new sneakers, the other with a pair that are duct taped. Both are jumpy; Peter can hear the erratic shots of their hearts. Lanky guy’s eyes dart around from the register to the door, eager to get it over with.

Peter narrows his eyes, smelling the gun and spotting the lump inside a jacket pocket, where their hands are. They’ll just raise their hand and wave the gun around inside the jacket, scare the man into opening the register.

They might be out of their depth here. The owner might have the disadvantage of being old, but the dude has definitely seen the brunt of it in his life time. He has scars on his knuckles from repeated fighting, and a tattoo on his forearm of a double barrel shotgun. Peter can even smell the guns the owner keeps for protection underneath that very register.

But still, this is his job.

Peter hops over the counter when they turn towards the kitchen window and try to spot the owner. He crawls up to the register just out of their peripherals, then pops up behind it, calling out in a semi-cheery voice. “Welcome to Benny’s, can I take your order?”

Both of the men jump, spinning back to face Peter with wide eyes. “When did you-”

“I’ve been here.”

“No you weren’t!” The lanky man protests, eyes darting between Peter and the register. His pupils are blown out wide, swallowing a lump in his throat. He’s scared- he’s new to this, somehow. Probably not from Gotham. His accent doesn't sound like it. “Kid, you’re like, 12 years old, we know you don’t work here.”

“Sir, I’m supposed to clock out in fifteen minutes. If you could please just let me take your order, that would be great.” Peter leans against the register with a sigh. “Overtime, am I right?”

“What?”

Shoot. He thought he sounded older. Whatever.

The other man lifts his hand, pressing the barrel of the gun against Peter’s forehead through the jacket fabric, letting Peter know there’s really a gun, though Peter already knows that. “I don’t want to hurt you, kid. Give us the money in the register and we walk out, no harm done.”

“I don’t have the money.” Peter replies, looking past the gunman and at his friend.

The gunman scowls. “Open the register.”

“I don’t work here. Who told you I work here? I’m a kid.”

Anger flashes across his face, and he raises the gun. Peter catches his wrist as the hand swings down to hit him. He slams his arm down against the counter, the man dropping the gun as his wrist gives out a crack! Peter slips the gun out of the man’s jacket pocket as the other man raises his own gun at Peter.

“Stop!” Lanky shouts at him, his hands trembling.

Peter holds his hands up in ‘surrender’, observing the man carefully. smell it, see it? hear it, not there! His spider senses whisper to him. New, it says, agreeing with Peter. His voice shakes too much to sound threatening. And besides… Peter can smell the difference between these two guns.

“I’ll- I’ll shoot you if you don’t drop that.” He gestures to the other gun in Peter’s hand. The man with the broken wrist groans, hissing under his breath as he backs away from the counter.

“Damn kid broke my f*cking wrist!”

You kinda deserved it.

“Then shoot me.”

A heavy silence follows, sitting in the air like a gunshot. The gunman’s breath shakes, licking his lips nervously as he brandishes the gun at Peter. “I’m being serious!”

“Shoot me.” Peter repeats. “…Unless you can’t.”

“I-I…” Lanky glances at his friend, boss, whatever the other is to him. “I-”

“Don’t have any bullets? At least one of you cares about gun safety.” Peter lowers his hands, clicking on the safety for the gun he’s holding. Broken Wrist looks up at his friend to see what he’s gonna do- some punk kid is acting like he’s the boss here, so why wouldn’t his friend shoot Peter? Asshole.

Well, because Peter’s right, of course. There’s not a single bullet in this guy’s gun.

“What are you waiting for?” Broken Wrist demands. Lanky’s arm lowers, his face growing paler as he gawks at Peter. “Shoot him, idiot!”

“I-I can’t.” Lanky admits. “I-”

Broken Wrist snatches the gun out of Lanky’s hand. With his non-dominant hand, he points at Peter and shoots.

Nothing happens, save for the click of the trigger. Peter has half a mind to flinch anyway, if only for the bad memory of the first time a gun was pointed at him. The man tries to shoot again, only for nothing to happen once more.

“Get out of here, and don’t come back.” Peter raises the gun he got off Broken Wrist- trying not to hurl upon using it, but he’s not intimidating otherwise. “Get out!”

It takes Peter’s second shout for the men to get the hint. They scramble backwards out of the door, the bell clanging as it opens and shuts. Peter sets the gun on the counter, pushing it away from himself with a nausea overwhelming him. The safety was on, but they hadn’t even noticed. Gotham seriously has a problem with idiot criminals.

His only regret is that he can’t call the police. This close to Crime Alley, the cops are running corrupt… Which isn’t all that different to how cops usually are. And he can’t give a statement, because he doesn’t exist.

“What the hell was that.”

Peter jumps, turning to face Benny. The old man had hobbled in on his bad leg, leaning against the door from the kitchen and staring at Peter as if he’d grown two heads. Actually no, he looks more pissed off than he does surprised. But it’s definitely there, the shock. Peter knows the face well. He ducks down to look away from Benny, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Um…”

“You broke his wrist?”

“Self defense classes…” Peter mutters. He knows he doesn’t look that strong, and everyone always thinks he’s younger than he is.

“Are you stupid?” Benny hobbles closer, taking the gun away from Peter’s reach. He pulls out a box from underneath the counter, dropping the gun inside with a dozen other guns, all apparently confiscated. “I could have handled them.”

“But you didn’t have to.” Peter retorts, looking the older man in the eye. “If I can help and I didn’t, then it would have been my fault if you had gotten hurt.”

Benny falls silent, and Peter wishes not for the first time that one of his powers was mind reading. The old man taps his fingers on the counter, eyes narrowed at Peter in intense thought. Is he mad at Peter? It would have sucked if he had to clean up if Peter got shot. But it doesn’t feel like anger, even if his face looks it.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but that attitude in Gotham is gonna get you killed, Moron.” Benny finally tells him. Peter doesn’t doubt that. But he’s also not just a scrawny kid. “You can’t do that again.”

“I’m definitely gonna do it again.” Peter says honestly, without thinking.

Benny grunts impatiently, shaking his head and running a hand over his face. “…Now you have me feeling bad.”

“What? Why?” That was most certainly not his intention here. He didn’t expect a thanks or anything, because Peter never does. But he also didn't expect him to be feeling bad.

“I’m worrying about you now, do you see how that’s a problem?”

“No, not- Not really? Kind of, I guess?” Peter squints. He feels like he had this exact conversation before. Who was that with? Wasn’t it-

Biggie! It was Biggie, the owner of Dugout.

That was a while ago, when Peter was first on the streets. After letting his missing person’s case cool down, Peter started up a ‘fixing things’ business. He would go around a lot of stores and homes and ask about fixing anything for them. Eventually he got to the point where people knew how to find him and get him somewhere where there was something needing fixing- a fridge, a door, whatever. He had a good reputation.

Biggie had been a customer of his, he owned a place called 'The Dugout.' On his first job, he was fixing a TV that had fallen off of the wall when a customer started getting violent and belligerent. Peter basically tricked the guy into walking outside the restaurant and locking him out. After that, Biggie started calling him around more, after telling Peter, “Now I’m worried about you. You have no self preservation instincts or something.” Biggie would make things up for Peter to fix, and then feed Peter on top of paying him for helping out.

Wait, Biggie kind of… looks like Benny. Or does Benny look like Biggie? Except, Biggie wasn’t as old- he’s not young, but Benny is up there in age.

“There’s a room upstairs you can take.” Benny’s words snap Peter out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” Peter shakes his head, taking a step back. “Wait- I don’t-”

“Don’t try that whole ‘I’m not homeless’ thing on me, New York. It’s not an uncommon problem here in Gotham, and no one is gonna judge you for it. So I’m cutting to the chase.” Benny points at Peter, and he gulps nervously. “As long as you don’t bring in drugs, and you try to keep trouble from the apartment, then you can stay upstairs. There’s a room up there that I let people stay in.”

…good!…

Peter relaxes his shoulders somewhat. Nothing is coming up as a threat to him, so he thinks Benny is being truthful. At least, he has good intentions.

And wow. It isn’t until Peter thought of getting a real bed that he realizes how little he wants to sleep on a rooftop again. Maybe he had gotten complacent while living with Tony, but having a room to sleep in really changes a perspective.

“If- If you’re sure-”

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.” Benny grunts back shortly. “Go sit down, I’ll show you the room later.”

“Yes sir!” He salutes (because Benny feels like a man he should be saluting to. Isn’t that what people do for veterans? Benny has a medal on the wall that looks like he might be a veteran.) and Benny closes his eyes as if begging for patience.

Peter is halfway through turning around to get out of Benny’s sight when he hears a gruff:

“And thanks.”

He stops mid step, foot hanging in the air, and looks at Benny. Really studies him, because Peter hadn’t done much of that yet. He has his hands on his hips, trying to look all tough, and again, Peter is struck by the similarity between Benny and Biggie. Tough guys who are actually really good people, always looking out for others. He grins up at the old man, who raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Don’t mention it.”

Peter hears another sigh as he hops over the counter and makes his way back to his burger. He has a comm to remake, a frequency to settle on, and plans to work out. He also has to figure out what he’s going to do about those Bats that keep following him around…

Chapter 2: birds singing flying around

Chapter Text

Dick thinks that they might have to intervene and make Tim get some rest. Which isn’t an unusual situation for them. Tim never gets enough rest, and they’re all sure the kid’s blood is made of coffee at this point. The only thing stopping him from putting Redbull in instead of water when he brews him fifth mug of the day is a lingering threat from Alfred and Bruce that Dick is not supposed to be aware of.

Sometimes, this problem is the complete opposite. When the kid actually does fall asleep, he stays asleep. No matter if he’s at the Manor, his own apartment, in the car, on a roller coaster, or a submarine. If he feels like he’s safe, his body is going to catch up on the days of sleep he missed whether he likes it or not.

This is one of those times where Dick might need help getting Tim away from the screen. Because his stubborn streak can rival his body’s natural processes, and Tim is refusing to go anywhere until he cracks their newest puzzle.

“Nothing, nowhere,” He mutters (not for the first time) under his breath. One hand is twisted in his hair with his pointer finger tapping away in thought, his eyes flicking between two of four screens. They go back and forth like a Kit-Cat Klock, and Dick imagines his brain is ticking just like one. Tick tock tick tock tick tock… It makes Tim look a little manic, which isn’t helping his case that he needs to get to bed, and soon.

Of course, because Tim is stubborn, Dick is going to have to do more than recognize the signs.

“How is this even possible?” Tick tock goes Tim’s eyes.

“When did you last sleep?”

Dick is ignored. As usual.

Tim’s hand removes from his hair (the place where he had been keeping it now has the hair sticking up) and he bites at his nails, leaning back in his seat to get a view of all four screens. Tick tock. Dick leans on the desk, crossing his arms and mentally preparing himself for having to wrestle Tim into taking a nap, at the very least. Last time, he almost lost a finger during the struggle. It’s not happening again if he can help it.

“He’s not listed anywhere. Not on any school records in Queens, or New York at all. No medical records that match his description that go anywhere, no neighborhood or community posts talking about a kid who’s gone missing in the last five years. No digital footprint so far, no family records, no immigration or travel records, no legal record that this kid exists.” Tim rants, but it’s mostly to himself. “It’s like he just popped out of the sky and started wandering around Gotham. Babs has records of him walking around during the daytime, pretty much everywhere, with no destination in mind. And then at night, we lose him when he starts doing the exact same thing and then!” Tim laughs, clapping his hands together. “Then, he disappears! No one can find him until he pops up again the next day!”

“Tim, have you slept?” He asks more urgently. Once again, he’s ignored.

It’s not like Dick isn’t worried, or paying attention to what Tim is saying. He learned his lesson multiple times to not ignore Tim. But this is not news, not anymore. It had been when Babs first got on Peter’s case, that very first night. But it’s been four days, and all Dick has heard from them is this exact thing.

Peter is untraceable. It really is like he fell out of the sky one day.

They couldn’t find him in the foster system, so they moved on to searching through schools in New York, starting with the top-listed schools that kids could get scholarships to go to, and then further down. Peter is likely smart enough to earn a scholarship like that, if he’s half as good at hacking as Babs thinks he is. They followed any rabbit hole they thought might lead to something: a Peter at a school called Topside that was in foster-care? Turned out to be a 17 year old that looks nothing like him. There was a girl who tagged a Peter for an debate club picture, but it was just a nickname for a girl friend of hers. That had led them to going through schools with far less opportunities, but nothing there either. Babs and Tim have been using an algorithm to pick up any similarities between Peter and their files, but nothing comes back that is of any worth.

Even B is stumped, when he manages to get time to help. That doesn’t sound like the Batman he knows. Dick didn’t think that this 14 year old would end up causing such a ruckus in the Batcave. Bruce and Tim may have been stalking Peter these last couple of nights, but that’s while waiting for a break on Two-Face’s whereabouts or uncovering how they got out of Arkham this time. Bruce is more focused on that than he is Peter, so Peter is more of a project for the rest of them, that can spare the time.

Except every turn they take just leads them back to nothing. Which worries them more.

Because it’s starting to sound like the kid is in some serious danger, if he doesn’t even exist. He almost considered witness protection, but that would involve creating a fake life of some kind. This kid has none. It doesn’t spell out anything nice, and leans more towards the the possibility they had been praying wouldn’t be the case: human trafficking. Peter might not even be his real name.

“I think this Peter kid is breaking his brain.” Steph calls from the other side of the Batcave. She’s lazily spinning in a chair, shooting rubber bands at a stalactite.

“Because how!? How is he doing this?” Tim, who apparently was listening, whirls around to speak directly to her. His hands flail around as he talks. Steph ignores the outburst, sticking her tongue out as she aims her next rubber band. “I swear, it’s like he knows I’m there! He looked at me! He looked at B! Do you know how insane that is? Do we all understand that? It’s impossible to find a hiding Batman, and yet this kid always manages to look directly where B is.”

Dick frowns smally, recalling the same thing had happened to him, when he first met Peter It was like Peter had sensed him nearby, and Dick swore the kid made eye contact with him.

“Maybe he’s really sensitive to people looking at him.” Steph figures, aiming a rubber band at a stalactite above Bruce, who doesn’t even flinch when they land on his desk. He continues reading whatever it is that has him so preoccupied…… Ah, from what Dick can see, Gordon had left more emails in Bruce’s inbox than there was yesterday. Looks like something about Two-Face. Is that why Stephanie is here? With Killer Croc and a Firefly out, it would make sense that Stephanie gets assigned his case. Maybe Tim or Damian will be working with her.

“He knows when Bruce is watching him, Steph!”

“Really, really sensitive.”

“Tim, you should sleep.” Dick tries again. He’s ignored again.

“It bothers me that I can’t even find a picture of him anywhere.” Tim glares at the top monitor above his head, which is searching through the police database on missing kid reports, potential human trafficking cases, and social medias from New Yorkers. “All I get are look-alikes. Maybe I need to go farther back than five years.”

Tim holds back a yawn, attempting to cover his mouth with one hand. He reaches for his coffee, but Dick places his hand over the top of the cup. The glare that was reserved for the computer is sent his direction instead, but Dick holds a stern gaze. It’s been three days now with Tim not getting more than three hours.

“Sleep. Now.”

“I don’t need sleep, I need answers.” Tim stands his ground.

“You do need to study.” Steph points out. Another rubber band lands on Bruce’s head. This time, the man looks down at his desk, sees the rubber bands, looks above him, then sighs when Stephanie shoots another. He returns to his work as if nothing happened, and Steph gives a wicked satisfied grin. “Don’t you and Duke have an exam coming up?”

“Who cares about that?” Tim waves it off.

And yep, that’s it.

Bruce and Dick had to fight tooth and nail to get Tim back into school rather than keeping up the CEO thing. Not that Tim couldn’t very well handle it- but Dick owed it to Tim to take care of him, after what happened when Bruce “died.” Tim deserves his senior year of high school, he deserves getting a graduation day with everyone in the family there to celebrate. He and Duke are in the same class now, and Tim has been doing better than he has in years now that things have settled.

Dick made a lot of mistakes before. One of them being not getting on Tim’s case. Tim is independent, and Dick mistook that for being okay. So, to preserve the 18 year old’s promised life, Dick picks up the coffee, downing it in one go.

Tim squawks out in horror and his eyes grow wide, snatching the empty cup from Dick’s hand. He turns it over to watch one drip fall out of the cup and into his hand. In horror more befitting someone actually being murdered in front of him, Tim cries out, “What is wrong with you!?”

Bruce looks up from his work, startled until he sees the cup. He glances towards Dick with that unreadable expression that Dick has come to place as “concern.” When Dick sends him a short, tight lipped smile, trying to convey I’ve got this, Bruce hesitates, but nods. However, he doesn’t resume typing, which leads Dick to assume he’s waiting for a point where he might need to step in.

He learned what Dick had. He also knows better now than to not get on Tim’s case about taking care of himself.

“Get up, Baby Bird!” Dick leans off of the desk and claps his hands together. When Tim doesn’t move and instead glares at Dick in a way that reminds Dick of a lion going for the kill, he grabs the back of Tim’s chair and starts rolling it away from the desk.

“…You’re gonna have to get me upstairs in this thing.” Tim sounds defiant.

“I think I’ll manage.”

“Dick, please, my brother, my best friend, my ride-or-die, my…” Tim falls silent when Dick isn’t faltering in his steps. “You hate me.”

He almost misses his step. Tim plays dirty. “I do not hate you, Tim.”

“You hate me and you’re trying to kill me. You want me to leave-

“Not at all, never.”

“Bye, boyfie!” Steph calls out from the middle of the room, kicking her feet up when she rolls over to his spot at the computer. “I’ll keep an eye on your Peter Finder, you freak.”

“Do you see what you’re doing to me, Dick?” Tim whines.

Dick smiles, unashamed of his tactics. There’s been no almost-finger-snapping, so Tim is more tired than he’s let on. “You’ll live, little brother.”

Tim drops his feet to drag it along, but when Dick checks over his shoulder, Tim’s head is drooping down further and further. His eyes stay closed, and he gives weak protests as Dick drags the chair up a set of stairs. They pass by Alfred on the way up to Tim’s room and the man doesn’t blink at the sight, just telling Dick to mind the vases.

As he drags his poor younger brother against his will up the stairs, he can’t stop thinking about Peter. How alone and small he looked while sitting on that roof, especially with the Gotham skyline in front of him. Gotham isn’t a place for a lone kid to be wandering around- all of them know that too well. Peter is new to here, that much Dick thinks is true. He looked lost, and when he spoke about Queens there was a smile on his lips like Peter thought it was further away than it really is.

They wonder if the kid has a place to sleep, if he even is staying with his dad or not. From what Tim and Bruce had put into Peter’s file, he apparently wears two outfits, never changing his shirt. But he does wash his clothes at a local laundromat, the same one every time. He wears the same busted up shoes everywhere he goes. The bruises on his neck were gone by the second day, but they were pretty sure it must have been makeup. He didn’t want anyone else to notice the bruises, and he covered them up. So either he stole some makeup, or he has access to it from someone in his life. Which points to him having somewhere to stay.

It bothers Dick that the kid would go to such lengths just so no one would ask. He defended his dad so fiercely that he didn’t want to think that Peter’s dad could do it, but… Lots of kids defend their parents, even though the parents had hurt them. Tim had been the same for a long time. Even though he knew what his parents had done was wrong, he wanted to believe that they loved him. The alternative was too harsh, too real. In Tim’s case it had been neglect and emotional abuse, but Dick has seen enough cases to know it transfers to physical abuse as well.

And the thing is, why would he hide it, if it wasn’t caused by someone he cares about? Nightwing is a known vigilante in Gotham, but outside of Gotham as well, because he branched out into the Titans and the Justice League. If he had been hurt by someone, Peter should have known that Nightwing could help him. Would arrest the person that hurt him, would find him somewhere safe to go.

It just doesn’t sit right with him. With any of them.

“What the f*ck are you doin’?”

Dick blinks at Jason, hauling Tim and his chair up the last step to the second floor. Jason had just woken up from the looks of his hair, his hoodie on backwards and missing a sock. It’s not often that he crashed at the Manor, but ever since B came back, there has been a shift in the family. B is more open than he was before, he’s trying. He’s apologizing… which is the weirdest part.

Dick is suddenly struck by the memory of a 13 year old Jason Todd-Wayne rubbing his eyes sleepily, his hair all out of sorts from kicking around in his sleep, watching Dick and his friends be annoying first thing in the morning.

“Timmy needed to go to bed.” Dick replies, and Jason closes his eyes. He must decide not to ask, because he shakes his head and starts to go around them to get down the stairs.

Dick watches him get halfway before saying, “Wait.”

Jason doesn’t wait at first. He takes a few more steps, stops, groans to himself, then looks up at Dick. He’s annoyed, but listening. “What?”

“I have to go back to Bludhaven today, later this morning.” Dick feels guilty for thinking about it, what with how much is happening in Gotham lately. But he has his responsibilities in Bludhaven, too, and he can’t leave it for long. He just needs to go and check on there, and then he comes right back to help them with the multiple rouges that are giving Gotham trouble right now. And Peter.

Peter, that’s what is bothering him. Tim and Steph are likely going to have to focus on Two-Face in the next few days, and Killer Croc won’t take long to resurface. Not to mention that the specific Firefly that got out is known for playing the longer con, taking his time setting his traps. Batman will have to focus on that.

But Peter could slip away in that time…

“And?” Jason raises a brow when Dick says nothing, too lost in his thoughts.

But there’s one person they can count on to check on a kid.

“Can you swing by and check on Peter?”

“Peter?”

“The kid that showed up, you know. Babs was worried about him, and now we’re worried about him.” Dick almost forgot that Jason was busy with Black Mask goons starting sh*t a couple days ago. “He’s somewhere between 12 or 14 and we think someone is after him. Or maybe that his living situation is not- ideal. Or dangerous.”

“Library kid.”

“Yeah, that one.”

Jason stares at him, then looks at the ceiling as if trying to find something. “f*ck you.”

“It’s just that-”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.” Jason flips him off as he heads down the stairs. Dick is exhausted, but his nerves settled somewhat.

Tim groans and Dick looks back at him. He’s halfway out of his chair and dangerously slipping towards the steps. Dick grabs under his arms and pulls him back up, abandoning the chair to instead lift Tim over his shoulder.

“Put me down.”

“You can’t even protest properly.” Dick opens the door to Tim’s room, and chucks him down on the bed. Tim mutters something along the lines of “f*ck you” but it’s muffled with his face in the blanket. Dick turns the lights out, throws a blanket over Tim, and leaves the door cracked for Alfred to bother Tim to eat later.

-

It ended up being a good thing that Benny offered this room when he did. Otherwise, Peter would have been screwed on an astronomical scale.

Somehow, he had appeared in this world during an anomaly of Gotham’s weather: it hadn’t rained yet. When they were making their way up the steps to the two apartments upstairs (both of which belong to Benny), Peter caught a glimpse of the rain. It was swaths of icy water, a sheet that blanketed the entire city. Thunder rattled overhead and a chill washed over him. When Benny showed Peter the room and saw that Peter kept looking outside the window, he commented that Peter was lucky.

“It’s always raining, and it’s always cold.”

Had Benny not offered this place when he did, Peter would have gone back to that water silo and not known the rain was coming. Not only would it have destroyed all of his belongings (except the water proof hero material), Peter would have spent a long time trying to find a place to get out of the rain and ended up a popsicle.

The fact that this weather is common for Gotham doesn’t bode well for Peter, not with his thermoregulation issues. Even inside, a chill is cast over the room that he can feel under his clothes.

It’s also a good thing that all of Peter’s belongings fit inside this backpack, so he didn’t have to return to the water silo to get his stuff. It could have been a lot worse than it ended up being.

He’s lucky.

Lucky.

He sets down his backpack on the mattress, gaining his bearings with the room. It’s small, but Peter doesn’t mind that. He’s lived in a practical closet before, shared rooms with a bunch of foster siblings. Hell, he slept on the floor more in his life than he’s slept on a real bed. He could live anywhere and make it work.

This room has a closet on the wall with the door, opposite a twin bed with fresh sheets and blankets. There’s a desk and a lamp at the foot of the bed, right next to one of the two windows on that wall. The room isn’t attached to Benny’s apartment, which settles his nerves even more. Benny’s apartment is across the hall, though they share a kitchen. Not attached to Peter’s room but on the same side is a bathroom that he also doesn’t share with Benny.

He likes Benny and is decently aware that he is not a danger, but staying in a stranger’s apartment is never the best idea.

Benny told him that he uses this place to help people like Peter out. He wonders how many people have passed through this room, and how many looked like him. He’s glad that Benny isn’t a snitch, and he’s even more glad that the man didn’t comment on Peter’s age.

Kids and homelessness… well, it’s always one of two options how people think of kids like Peter. Either they look at him with disgust (well disguised or not), or they’re heartbroken. Whether this offer from Benny was out of pity, gratitude, or kindness, Peter accepts this opportunity that just fell into his lap. This time.

It’s not that he’s ungrateful. He just really hates pity. When people get that look, and they think about helping him…

Not because they are ill intentioned, but because they are ill informed. Peter didn’t want to get close to people, it meant that they would eventually try to help him. And people who had happy lives like that- stable and normal, they don’t understand. They think they were doing good, calling the cops about this kid, and he knows their hearts were in the right place. But he also knew better than them about the system they thought was his best hope.

(Or they would die, if he really got close to them.)

After the Battle of Manhattan, the foster care system in New York turned over. Foster families died, and regular families died, and the system was filled with so many kids who had nowhere to go. There was too much to keep up with, too many tragedies.

Kids slipped through the cracks.

Peter just happened to be one of them.

His first foster family, they were fostering Peter to adopt him. They were kind, and all things good. He still thinks about them, about what his life would have been had they not died in the Battle. They were proof that the foster system itself wasn’t irredeemable. It was likely just Parker Luck that made it so bad for him.

Whatever the case, he was better off alone at that time. Pity wasn’t accepted because pity came from people with good intentions and bad results. But he needs the help now, so he accepts the pity this one time, because it isn’t coming with Benny calling CPS. If it does, Peter will be out before they get here.

(Oh, man, he can’t even begin to imagine how bad Gotham’s foster care system must be. If New York after the Battle was bad, Gotham’s must be hell on Earth.)

There’s a lot of things that this means for him.

For one, he’s not homeless, he has a proper place to stay. (Though, homeless isn’t just sleeping in the streets. Homeless could also mean exactly what Peter is doing, it could mean drifting from house to house. The details are not lost on Peter, he just wants a win right now.)

For two, this should get the Bats off his back if they think he’s in danger, right? If they’re just suspicious of him, then they’ll keep watching him. And if they were worried about him, then this should ease that worry and they’ll leave him alone.

Peter watches the steady fall of the rain, perched on the end of his bed. The only view outside was of the brick wall of the other building next to the restaurant, and it is getting dark outside.

…What if the Bats don’t leave him alone? If they stick to him, he’ll have to just… rip that band-aid off. They’ll show their true colors once Peter shows himself.

Something about that makes his skin crawl. Not in a spider-sense way- no, in fact, it’s rather silent at the moment. That nagging voice in the back of his mind is sniffing around, reminding him of how different this world is, yet exactly the same as before. Peter has a handle on it, he does. He’s not freaking out, he’s not…

Well, he is alone. But not really. Everything is going to be fine.

Eventually, Peter turned to his comms again.

The rain has started to settle as he turns the comms in his hand, inspecting the inside parts. He works methodically, almost on muscle memory. Tony had shown Peter the ins and outs of most of his tech. He still remembers when Tony first showed him how to operate a comm- it was right after Peter got settled into living with them, before Peter went to a summer camp for his new school.

Tony had sat him down in his lab and gave his same no-nonsense (but all the nonsense) type of lesson as he had done so many times before. He let Peter hold the working parts, made him identify the inner mechanics, made Peter explain what it’s purpose was.

“To communicate between teammates.” Peter had answered.

“And to call for help.” Tony had added.

This had been fresh after Peter’s kidnapping. He had just made his first appointment with his therapist, and didn’t know what was in store for him. But something about Tony and this moment felt like it made all the sense in the world.

“I know I’m not the poster child for asking for help, but it is important. See, kid, what I’ve learned is that… carrying everything on your shoulders, it is bound to break you at some point. There is a reason it was a punishment for Atlas.”

Tony had held his gaze for a long stretch of silence. Not waiting for Peter to speak, but rather collecting his own thoughts. He’d never known Tony to drop a serious talk like this. A lot of Tony’s lessons were between jokes or in the middle of a lecture. This was neither.

He hadn’t said much about what he was feeling when he found Peter and got him out of that lab. He just told Peter how he was going to fix it. Peter knew that he would, without him saying.

“I want you to know that you can call for me.”

“I did.”

Because he had. Peter had managed to call Tony to get him before he was overwhelmed and knocked out. If he hadn’t, they wouldn’t have gotten his last location, and it would have taken longer to find Peter and the lab he was brought to, with the other kids.

“I know, you called for me. But I need to you know, Peter. Every time you call, I’ll be there. And- that’s what the comm is for.” Tony had picked up the comm and Peter tracked his every movement, reading between the lines.

Other people need it to be said out loud, but Peter is good at reading body language. His eyesight lets him track the most minuscule of details, his hearing lets him know every intake of breath. Tony was promising he’d come every time Peter needed him, but he was saying that Peter had a support system. He doesn’t work alone anymore.

“Thanks, Tony.”

Tony had smiled, grabbed his head with one hand, and pressed Peter’s forehead on his shoulder, tucked his chin over Peter’s head. “I know, I\‘m great. It’s good you acknowledge that, Bambino.”

He’s approaching four days without hearing from anyone.

His thumb clicks the edge of the comm without thinking about it. He hadn’t noticed he finished fixing it until he snapped back into the present. He hears the crackle come to life, but it settles on static without a specific frequency to set to.

With a tug at his heart, he pulls the comm up to his ear and settles back into the chair of his desk now. He wraps his arms around his knees, staring out the window to his left. The rain is starting to subside. The static almost reminds him of the hum of Tony’s arc reactor. If he closes his eyes and deludes himself.

“Hey,” Peter’s voice feels heavy.

Back when dinner was a one person affair, Peter would speak to the only picture he had of his uncle and aunt. He’d talk about his day, pretending that in another world, they were sitting around the table together. In that perfect world, Peter was still Spider-Man, but nothing ever went wrong. May never had her heart attack, and Ben hadn’t…

He’d ignore the silence between his own words. Sometimes pretending they were replying to him.

“It’s day three of Wonderland.” Peter tells the empty room. Part of him wishes Tony would walk through the door, all confidence and pompadour. “I found a place to stay, finally. Lucky, too, because it started raining outside. Benny, the owner of this burger joint I found? He’s the one who let me stay here.”

Peter can only hear static.

“I’m… I’m gonna get back, right?” Peter asks. The anxiety has started to bubble up inside of him. “I’m not gonna be alone like that again.”

More static. He can trick himself into thinking it’s a voice, if he wanted to.

“It’s not like I’ll never see you or Pepper again.” Peter says, but is he telling Tony this, or is he telling himself? “It’s not like the other times. Because we’re both alive. Just… in different spots. You’re not- You’re not dead. And I’m not alone.”

But isn’t he? Isn’t Peter alone right now?

It had been like that the last times. Only before, Peter was left behind. This time, Peter was the one who disappeared.

“No, no it isn’t like that.” Peter slams the comm onto the table and gets up from the desk chair, pacing around the room and biting his thumbnail. “I didn’t- Tony wouldn’t think I’m dead. He’d keep looking for me. He said if I needed him, he’d come- and even if I didn’t need him, he’d be there. We’re a team.”

But you’re not really his son.

“I know that.” Peter replies to himself. He probably looks crazy to any outside observer- what a drama queen. Jeez, he’s overthinking this again. He takes a breath, hands out in front of him. Until he realizes that he’s shaking, and he instead attempts to put his hands in his pockets.

“I’m not- I know that. But he takes care of me. And- And he-”

It’s too stuffy in this room, Peter thinks. He can feel the walls are too close, too in his way. Every wall is surrounding him, keeping him pinned in here just like- just like the closet he stayed in, just like that lab had pinned him down and made him feel weak all over again. But they aren’t actually closing in, right?

He turns to the window, where rain has started to drift from downpour to sprinkle. Peter feels the shiver of the cold in anticipation, but it’s- it’s not that bad.

Peter is lucky. He has somewhere to come back to, if the rain gets bad.

“This is fine,” Peter tells himself as he opens the window, relieved to find a fire escape waiting for him, like it was telling him this is a genius idea. “Just a quick walk around the corner.”

That’s what he promises himself. He just needs to walk, to pace somewhere that isn’t this new room, this reminder that he isn’t at home. That he isn’t getting ready for dinner, that Tony and Pepper aren’t just down the hall. This reminder that it’s not like the other times, but also exactly the same as before. This- this situation he’s in, it is entirely unfamiliar to him, not like the water silo and sleeping on roofs.

It’s harder to pretend everything is fine if he’s somewhere that he hasn’t been before, that he knows so well. This room isn’t his room at Tony’s, and it isn’t where he was taking care of himself before- and he just needs to walk around to get used to that fact.

It isn’t like before, but it is.

Peter used to be Parker, he was 12 and 13 years old but he handled himself damn fine on the streets. He made money with side jobs, he ran from the cops, he took care of people he came across. He had friends on the street, even if they didn’t know his real name. Parker lived in Queens, but Peter is living in Gotham, and god, please don’t make him start over.

He wants to believe that it’s going to be okay. Tony wouldn’t give up on him, and Peter wouldn’t give up on Tony. So what if this is like back then? Peter has to suck it up, quit being a baby about it.

The street doesn’t do anything to settle his chattering nerves, unfortunately. The anxiety swirls around in his mind, reminding him of all the other times this happened, when Peter had to start over, or when he lost someone.

His parents went first, ripped from the sky before they even got the chance to be a family that Peter could remember. After that, Peter stayed in a foster home for the first time before Uncle Ben and Aunt May could get approved to take care of him.

That house was full of kids, and Peter was an only child for his life before that. He wasn’t used to the noise, the lack of privacy, the fighting or the fact that everyone walked on eggshells. One of his first memories is not of his parents, but of an older teen fussing at him for crying at night. They had grabbed his arm and hissed at him:

“Get over it already. Life happens.”

He was glad when Uncle Ben and Aunt May took him in. They never got mad when Peter cried.

But then he got lost, and Aunt May collapsed, when he was nine. It was only a few years with her, but he still remembers how soft her hair was when she hugged him.

Get over it already. Life happens.

And then Uncle Ben, a year later. The gunshots still echo in Peter’s nightmares.

Get over it already. Life happens.

Then Karen, Devon, and Chandler. The Battle of Manhattan had taken them so soon after he lost Ben, and he still remembers the crunch when rubble fell from the sky-

Get over it already. Life happens.

Clara Noble, a nice older woman that laughed all the time. Who had that brain aneurysm, she had been so nice to Peter-

Get over it already. Life happens.

Dolores Basset drowning in the family pool-

Get over it already. Life happens.

Deaths that he must have caused, because Peter is the only common denominator in all of their lives and early deaths-

Get over it already. Life happens.

No, no, calm down. Peter reminds himself. It wasn’t your fault. No one died because of you.

Tony wasn’t- it didn’t happen the same way. Neither of them are dead. This can be fixed. It’s going to be okay.

He can take care of himself, he has been for so long. Everything is going to be okay.

It’s different but it’s the same.

It’s not okay. Peter is NOT okay.

Endless sky. Ash. Can’t breathe. Can’t get away- Just like before.

Here!

Dark Alley. The cold made him tired. Is dying cold?

Look out!

Gunshot. Couldn’t hold the blood in, his hands were too small-

Here Look Out Here Behind Front!

Peter backs up just as he hears the shuffle of a foot in a puddle. Too little too late, he paid attention to his spider-sense. An arm wraps around Peter’s throat, yanking him backwards and pulling him off balance. He grabs at the wrist that squeezes his throat, and falls still when a gun is pressed against his temple. Inky shadows turn to faces in front of him, laughter piercing through the low buzz of his thoughts.

“-dumb kid.” Someone is saying when Peter snaps back to attention. They flick Peter’s forehead. “He doesn’t have any money, look at him. He’s like, eight years old.”

“Shut up, you f*cking loser.” Peter growls, attempting to pry the arm off of him. It squeezes tighter. Peter almost freaks, almost tears it off of him, but he feels the pull of his muscles and knows he’s about to rip skin off of bone and he freezes.

Oh god.

Peter almost did something f*cking terrible.

He sucks in a short gasp and closes his eyes for a second. He can not lose his control and accidentally do that to someone. Ben would be so f*cking disappointed in him, so ashamed to know him.

Think rationally, Peter.

He doesn’t have his mask on, he can’t pull any risky moves that would out him as a meta. With the rain mixing the smells around him, he’s unsure if this group of guys are keeping bullets or not. He doesn’t see any familiar faces, so it doesn’t appear to be revenge for earlier that day. At least, that he can tell.

Likely unrelated. He might have to rely on just his spider-sense to tell whether these guys mean business or not. Peter needs to be calm if he wants to listen to his spider-sense, but calm is getting harder to hold onto after having an anxiety attack.

“My bad, my bad,” The man snarks, and he clearly doesn’t feel bad at all. “But what use is a twerp who ain’t got any money?”

“Parents might,” Another tells him. Peter is counting how many there are… One, two, three… five people. One’s a woman, hanging towards the back as a look out. Wait, parents? “Where do you live, kid? Let’s give mommy and daddy a visit.”

“Go to hell.” He bites, glaring at the men. He doesn’t have sympathy for people who use kids as shields or for personal gain.

But he still can’t hurt them. How does he get out of this one? Should he just go for it? Ugh, how could he be so stupid and get caught in this? He should have been paying attention- no, he shouldn’t have left his room in the first place.

“How bout I take you with me?” The man replies. Peter sees the flash of a revolver in his hand and his body tenses, knowing the hit is about to come.

But his body freezes.

Ben, gunshot, his hands were too small-

Think, Peter, think! His eyes shut as the guy holding him squeezes tighter, cutting off his air. It’s getting a little hard to breathe, and his hands are trembling. Weak, too weak.

Too weak.

Peter can’t push (calm) back, he’s not strong- calm- Not like an adult is. calm - His hands are too weak (calm) and he can’t breathe-

calm down!

Peter bites down on his cheek. Focus!

“sh*t!” The woman pushes through the group with a screech of terror. “Red Hood!”

Peter falls back onto concrete when the guy lets him go out of nowhere. He smells their fear cloud the air, and he slaps a hand over his ears as a shot rings out in the street. Too loud so loud holy sh*t why is everything so loud- A scream of pain cuts through him as a man falls next to Peter, there’s a crunch when his mouth meets ground.

The man spits blood onto the concrete. His nose is jammed, crooked and pouring blood in a steady stream. The man’s hand trembles, he glances to his right, at Peter. There’s a crazed look in his eyes that makes everything scream at him back away get away!

Peter scrambles to get away from the man, but in his desperation, he grabs onto Peter’s arm and swings him around, gun pressed against his temple. Peter ducks and pushes out of his grip just in time for another shot to hit the man’s gun hand. He yowls in pain, the gun clattering onto the wet pavement

His spider-sense is ringing out, but he can’t listen to it as it mixes with unseen memories. It feels like a wall as everything hits him all at once: CALM BLOOD TOO SMALL TOO WEAK CALM FOCUS GET AWAY RUN BAD BAD BAD BAD! Peter crawls away and towards the closest wall, his adrenaline spiking and his head swimming with voices. There’s a thud of a fist hitting face and Peter flinches, ducks down and forces in a deep breath.

THINK!

Red Hood, Red Hood, Red Hood- That was-

Peter bites down on his lip, daring to look up at the fight, but it’s more like a take down. A slaughter. They’re all sprawled on the ground, and the only one with the upper-hand is a man in a leather jacket, his face obscured by some kind of red helmet. His back is facing Peter, taller than the muggers and more fierce.

Peter’s mind is fuzzy as he tries to cool down from his panic, trying to remember he isn’t a kid anymore.

He’s Spider-Man, no one can hurt Spider-Man.

It’s gonna be okay. He just has to think. Get it together, Parker.

Red Hood- that was- That’s one of the villains that Peter read on the wiki. Right?

Yeah- that was- Deep breath, Peter.

Red Hood… That was the crime lord that was listed. He wanted to stay away from that guy, that’s the one that had such an extensive list of crimes. Peter presses against the wall, hoping he looks too small for the man to notice he’s there. Why? Why is he here? Why would he start attacking a random group of muggers? Is he gonna try to hurt Peter, too?

The silence is the worse part as the fist fight comes to an end. Peter’s skin buzzes as he attempts to stick to the shadows near the wall. Get away get away get away. He peeks between his arms to find an escape route- sees one too late- when a voice calls out, “Are you okay?”

Peter flinches, daring to look up.

Red Hood is shaking his gloved hands out. Peter can hear how loud his heart is from here, and it’s not just from the fight, or the adrenaline. Peter can’t tell who he’s talking to, because surely, a villain like that wouldn’t be worried about Peter.

But he’s wrong, apparently. Red Hood turns his way, obviously looking right at him, and Peter sinks back into the wall some more, his voice caught in his throat. For a split second, the helmet covering his face looks so much like the Iron Man suit in the yellow street light.

…?…

He’s got blood on his boots, his pants, his knuckles. And there’s a bunch of people around him holding onto their gunshot wounds, groaning in pain. He’d read about a duffle bag with 8 heads in it. For all these reasons, Peter should still be terrified.

However, Peter’s spider senses calm down as soon as Red Hood turns his attention on him.

Everything falls silent. The panic is gone, replaced instead by the aftermath of adrenaline and surprise. None of the loud buzzing from before lingers. It’s just him and his spider-sense, and that almost scary calm it has towards someone who is supposed to be a crime lord.

Either Peter is broken, or he’s wrong about this guy. Or Gotham is a f*cked up, crazy mess in ways he hadn’t even accounted for.

Something about Peter’s silence, or maybe how he’s still trying to get against the wall, makes Red Hood crouch down. He gets smaller, balancing on his toes in a squat in front of Peter, putting his weapons on the ground.

“Are you okay?” He repeats, his voice growing softer than before.

Oh.

Peter nods, not exactly trusting his voice at the moment.

Red Hood nods back, but it might be more for himself than for Peter. He’s looking at the muggers on the ground, and Peter recognizes the anger, that tenseness in his shoulders. But…

…not Peter…?…

He’s not angry at Peter. That’s… good. Yeah, that’s good. His voice is low as he touches his ear, as if he doesn’t want Peter to hear it. Of course, Peter still does. “Get someone over here to deal with these.”

Police? Peter gulps down his nerves and assesses how far he could run away on shaky limbs. Not very far, he thinks. He’s still technically panicking, even if it’s not at the forefront of his mind anymore.

Why does he always have to get attacked during an emotional freak-out? Can’t the bad guys take an hour off just for once?

Red Hood puts his weapons back into his belt and stands up, but he’s keeping his shoulders hunched as he gets closer to Peter. His voice is a murmur, barely able to come through because the helmet muffles his voice. There’s a voice modulator on there, and the similarities between he and Iron Man are no more.

“Let’s get you away from here, yeah?”

Peter again nods dumbly, wondering if he should rely on his spider-sense this much. But it says that Red Hood is safe safe safe, and he’s clearly trying not to scare him more than he was. Red Hood reaches low to grab Peter’s hand, and Peter grips it a little harder than he meant to.

The man- and he certainly is a grown up, because he’s tall like one and broad shouldered like Bucky but he’s kind of built like a tank- smooths back his hair with the hand that’s clear of blood. It’s a simple move that could just be for comfort, but Peter’s been in enough fights to know that his mentors do that to subtly check if Peter got a head wound they don’t know about. He leads Peter farther from the group, before looping an arm under his and grabbing something from his belt.

A grappling hook. Peter recognizes it’s the same type that Nightwing had used, as well as Red Robin, Spoiler, and potentially Batman. Red Hood reaches out towards a taller building in sight, and he runs to pull Peter along. Peter grips on tightly to his leather jacket, having not expected they were going up on a roof. Red Hood drops him to sit on the side of the building, then pulls himself up as well. He sits right next to Peter, unhooking the grappling hook and setting it to the side.

From up here, they can keep an eye on the muggers that attacked him. Sirens wail in the distance. And all Peter can think to ask is:

“How are ambulance fees covered here?”

Red Hood is quiet and he doesn’t move for a few seconds. He then turns to look at Peter, and in the most incredulous tone Peter has heard so many times before, asks, “What?”

There’s a voice from Red Hood’s comm, that Peter shouldn’t be able to hear. “What?”

“They’re clearly broke.” Peter replies to both of them.

“That’s your concern right now?”

“It’s not a concern. I’m just curious.” They fall into another bout of silence. “…I’m assuming that means you don’t know.”

“Jesus f*cking Christ.” Red Hood reaches up as if to pinch the bridge of his nose, but only meets metal. He instead runs his hand over the top as if he’s messing with his hair. But he’s bald right now. “Is this the shock talking?”

“Probably.” Peter replies, looking at his feet. There’s blood on his shoe. His Good Luck shoes. “There’s a good chance. But I also just say wack sh*t sometimes.”

“What were you doin’ out walkin’ at this hour? You know there’s a curfew for a reason, right?” Red Hood sounds angry, so Peter thinks he should cool it with the jokes. But also, he can’t tell if he’s angry at Peter or at something else. He might be angry at Peter. His spider-sense argues otherwise. His common sense, too.

“I needed a stroll.” Peter says, immediately backing out on not telling jokes. Who is he without his whimsy? “A walk around the block. Clear the mind.”

“You could have died.” The man crime lord guy presses, like the hypocrite he might maybe is, possibly. He talks with his hands a lot. “Or have been seriously injured. What if I wasn’t there?”

Then those guys would have met a Peter who had a hard time holding back a punch.

He bites down that retort. “sh*t happens.”

Red Hood stares at him. Is this how people feel when Peter looks at them in the Spider-Man costume? It’s hard to tell what someone is thinking based on body language and no facial features to watch. And Peter put a lot of effort into reading faces. Maybe he should put that on his costume… like, maybe the eyes could move around, and tell them what he’s trying to express.

Focus.

“Where’s your parents? Why would they let you walk out at night?”

Peter was hoping that wouldn’t come up, but that’s just his luck. “My dad is- He’s… out, right now. He didn’t know.”

“Out? Out where?”

“Somewhere.” Peter turns away from him, looking down the other street.

He sees the flash of Bat go by.

A short second of a swing that Peter shouldn’t have seen. There’s a familiar (by now, Peter thinks he knows) heartbeat in the shadows behind a billboard above them, far away. Peter shouldn’t be able to see him, and it takes everything in him not to stare at Batman while he tries to figure out what he’s doing here.

And that’s when it hits Peter who this guy is. Peter glances back at Red Hood, and he wonders how he could have jumped to assumptions that this was a villain.

There’s a huge red bat symbol on his chest. He’s another Bat.

Of course.

They’ve been stalking him for days now, so why wouldn’t tonight be the same? They were here because they were watching him, looking for him. Looking out for him? This is debatable.

And man, Peter isn’t mad, but he is frustrated that he doesn’t know the exact reason why they’re following him. He doesn’t want to think anymore and try to understand adults and their motivations. He’s so tired of doing that.

“So you have no idea where he is?” Red Hood doesn’t sound like he’s asking, but more pointing this out to Peter. Like Peter should fully understand how stupid it is. But the thing is, Peter knows.

“Why the hell would he just leave you alone?”

Now that hits Peter harder than it should have. He doesn’t know. Don’t blow up.

“When did he leave you-?”

“He’s coming for me!” Peter shouts, blowing up anyways. He jumps up from the side of the roof and Red Hood’s arms rocket forward as if to catch him. But it’s seconds and Peter has already backed away from Red Hood, away from the ledge and instead on solid roof. Red Hood grabs the empty air, hesitates, and turns his head to stare at Peter (watching). The anger bubbling up is a mix of all things- he can’t let anyone think bad of Tony, because they have no idea what happened.

But the anxiety chips away at him. It has been for days now.

You’re alone. You can’t call for help.

“He wouldn’t leave me, he knows I can’t do that again!” Peter says, and it’s more like he’s begging Red Hood to understand- for all these Bats to understand. Because they’ve been following him around for that, now he’s sure. They don’t suspect Peter is trouble, they suspect he’s in it.

Peter fights back the lump in his throat but his voice cracks anyway. “He promised. Don’t talk about him like that!”

Red Hood holds his hand up as if Peter was going to attack. Which would be hilarious, if Peter wasn’t so emotional and angry right now. Red Hood has no reason to believe Peter could hurt him- Peter looks like a twig next to a boulder.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Red Hood tells him, and it sounds so genuine that Peter almost blue screens. “I can tell you really care about him.”

I can tell you really care about him.

He still doesn’t believe Peter. And why would he? In their eyes, Tony has left Peter to the dogs, dropped him in Gotham for a reason they don’t know. He had shown up with bruises- it’s all obvious, but when Peter tries to think about telling them what is really going on, he thinks They aren’t my team.

They aren’t- he doesn’t know them. He knows all of the tells of his teammates, and they know his. He can trust the Avengers because they’ve trained and they eat together and they live in the same damn building. Unpredictable adults are the scariest ones. And Peter- he can do this alone. He doesn’t need help.

Too stubborn for your own good.

Peter knows that Tony wouldn’t… He wouldn’t leave him alone. Not on purpose.

(And then there’s that feeling, that reminder that he knows what it’s like to be laying on a lab table and someone hovering over him, testing if he was going to die or not with unfamiliar chemicals in his system. Trying to see what will kill him. And Peter couldn’t fight back, but he also couldn’t die like a normal kid.

That reminder that Peter ran from foster care because he knew not only that no one would believe him, but that if they found out he was a mutant, they’d send him away to do exactly that.

No metas in Gotham.

He can’t do that again.)

Red Hood doesn’t know. Peter thinks bitterly, and he once again feels angry at himself for shouting. He snapped at Nightwing, too, and now he has to apologize twice.

“…Sorry,” Peter mutters, but he doesn’t get closer to Red Hood. “But Tony’s not a bad guy. You and the other bats gotta know that.”

Red Hood tilts his head, and Peter scoffs under his breath. Peter, not wanting to admit he can tell they’re stalking him, decides on another excuse.

“Nightwing didn’t believe me either.”

And that’s the oh moment for Red Hood. The man sighs, leaning over to put his head in his hand as he thinks about it. Peter has to fill the silence. They need to know- Or is Peter just scared that he’ll forget it, if he doesn’t defend Tony?

“He cares about me. He wouldn’t leave me unless he had to. He’s the best foster dad I’ve ever had, and I won’t let you guys think he’s not.” Peter practically begs, knowing the others can probably hear him on the comms. “He never hits me, and I don’t even get scared when he yells, and he’s- he’s not here right now but it isn’t his fault, and you guys just don’t get it.”

Red Hood picks his head up. “You’re right, I don’t get it.”

Peter can’t decide on what Red Hood might be thinking. It’s because of that damned mask, Peter can’t read his face. He chews his bottom lip, wondering if he’s said too much, or too little, or- or he doesn’t know.

This was a mistake. He should have just taken the roofs if he wanted to clear his mind. Maybe he would have just run into a Bat and not get into all of this. His mind wouldn’t be fresh off of a panic attack, and just swirling with insecurity. He knows how to hide insecurity better than panic.

“Gotham isn’t a good place for kids.” Red Hood tells him. He’s looking down at the street where the muggers are. Peter can’t see them from this angle anymore, but he can hear the ambulances loading up. “They get hurt, or they get dragged into something they don’t understand.”

“I’m not a baby, and I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were either of those things, now did I?” Red Hood retorts. “If we can keep just one kid from getting caught up in a f*cked up situation, then that’s what we try to do.”

Peter stares at the back of the man’s head. It feels like eyes are on him from all over, and that’s without his spider senses murmuring in his ear: watching watching watching..

He should tell them.

His spider-senses are telling him that Red Hood is safe. His common sense is too, because none of the Bats have hurt him. (Yet?) But spider-senses can’t tell him whether or not to place trust into someone, that’s all up to him, and his own deduction skills.

Just because Red Hood doesn’t mean harm to him right now, doesn’t mean that that couldn’t change if he or the Bats find out he’s a meta.

No. No he shouldn’t tell them.

“I’m not in trouble.” Peter says, and it’s a lie. He wonders if Red Hood can tell.

“But you’d tell someone, if you were?”

It feels like he knows Peter is lying.

“Yeah. I would.”

-

Peter was allowed to get off of the roof when everyone was gone. He could tell that he was being watched all the way back to his room, so he stayed on foot and even pretended the door to get inside was heavy. He sped up the staircase, quiet so as to not wake Benny, and he shut his blinds as soon as he got in his room.

So… now they know where he’s living.

This is totally fine.

In the morning, after getting a decent night’s rest on a bed and not on concrete, Peter felt better than he had in days. Which sucks, because it basically is just saying that Peter needed to sleep properly and that is why he was losing his sh*t. But whatever- he now knows that he’ll just have to get used to his living arrangement over time, and all will be chill again.

For the next three days, he stays inside for the most part, not wanting to repeat what happened before… maybe hoping the Bats would get off his case if they saw he wasn’t “being reckless” anymore. He thought that with the recent event, the Bats would stick around to test exactly that, but he turned out to be wrong. Peter felt the stalking wane from two Bats a night to none.

Batman wasn’t strolling by anymore during the night to loom over Benny’s restaurant, and if someone did, it was Red Robin. Last night, no one stopped by at all. So… There weren’t as many eyes on him.

He convinces himself that this was a good thing- that’s what he wanted. Sure, he sort of wonders if the opportunity to get help was just thrown out of the window. But the more rational side of himself says that he made a good call.

“Don’t trust that spidey-sense all the time, Peter.” He imitates Natasha’s voice as he sits at his desk, and quite well if he does say so, and he do. “You never know how fast intentions can shift.”

He hums back at his own words as he hunches over his desk, picking at the project in his hands as he replies, “But what if they really are good people?”

Peter pauses his work, looking up at the ceiling.

“I’m talking to myself. Again. Geez, isolation does wonders on my psyche.”

He shrugs off the slight-crazy tendencies that appear when he’s by himself too long (because this is nothing new, and he knows that), focusing instead on his newest project. Because it’s super important that he gets this done today.

The second night after he talked to Red Hood, Peter sensed the villain nearby again. But he could also tell that Red Robin was close as well, and he decided it wasn’t worth the risk. It was way too soon, and he also didn’t even have a plan on how to capture the guy yet. He’s had lesson after lesson drilled into his skull on not being reckless, and while he will admit that he is very much still reckless, he’s done better at looking for the “will this work out in the long-run” plans than the “f*ck it, we ball” mentality he used to have. While not totally gone, Peter knows better than to fight someone who has the advantage on him.

Spider-senses can only get him so far. That’s what he has to remind himself, near constantly. Natasha says that he relies on them too much, but it’s a hard habit to break. Peter had never thought that it could be unreliable, because he’s used it as a tool for so long, and it’s kept him safe and alive so far.

But it isn’t the only part of Peter that can be reliable.

Tony will sometimes knock twice on his forehead, and he’ll grumble, “Kid, you’ve got this for a reason.” Which translates to “Peter, you’re very smart, and you should trust yourself more than you do.” in Tony speak. At least, that’s what Pepper and Dr. Banner told him it meant, and he’s inclined to agree because Tony hadn’t done anything to reject the idea, and instead he had deflected the conversation to what they should have for lunch.

So, in an effort to follow the advice of his mentors, Peter used his brain.

This villain has the advantage over Peter because Peter doesn’t have the ability to combat those jumps. Which means that Peter should level the playing field, right?

He’s just as capable of using some backyard junks of metal (and Benny’s old tool kit) to create something that will put them on the same level, at least for now. He still has sh*t to do about how weirdly strong that guy is- he must be enhanced- but he can figure that out better when he gets into the fight itself. There isn’t enough information to go on for his strength.

What Peter is working on now (because he finished his comm), is a wrist piece much like that villains in design, but Peter’s has a different effect. He couldn’t replicate the spacial jumping- not without getting a look at the thing up close, like he really, really wants to.-

(Because holy sh*t, you know? Peter thought that without magic, humans would have to use a particle accelerator to even think about crossing dimensional thresholds. But this guy managed to stick it to his wrist! Peter’s so jealous right now he wants to scream!)

-But he can make a device that senses the pressure in the air caused by his jumps.

It wasn’t too hard, really. Peter just came to the conclusion that the jumps impacted the air surrounding the spacial jumper, it’s a simple case of displacement of matter. When this guy suddenly left a space, the air would converge inwards where he had been, and when he appeared somewhere, the air would shift outwards- it would cause a rapid change in air pressure and temperature. The jumps don’t take more than a few seconds, but they have to be causing reactions in the air, it’s simple science.

There’s a pressure wave, one that Peter is sort of able to detect with his sixth sense, but would be better suited for this tech of his. It’ll also detect the temperature changes and air displacement, energy fluctuations, the like.

So… sort of like a weather radar of some kind, in that aspect. A weather radar that’s made of a laptop and a toaster he found in a garbage can, but it’s something. His first webshooters had been made using junkyard parts as well. RIP to the furby that helped him out with that.

He thinks he’ll call it the Jumping Radar, or something. Maybe an acronym could be cool, like Tony does? He… Can’t think of anything in particular. He’ll come up with a cooler name. Probably. For now, Jumping Radar will have to do.

Instead of keeping it on his wrist, because his webshooters always have dibs on that space, Peter instead decided to make this device attach to his forearm. He moves his arm up and down now, checking to see if it would slip around. Junkyard parts aren’t the most stable when it comes to this. He wishes he had Stark Tech right about now, but old school is fine, and sort of makes him nostalgic in a good way.

It’s not done, though. He’s missing a few parts that he won’t find in a junkyard, he’ll have to figure out where a hardware store is; Benny might be kind enough to tell him. And he still needs to test it properly. He should start making a map, too…

Actually, there’s a more pressing matter at hand that Peter needs to deal with before he tests his prototype.

Just because Batman and the others appear to have backed off, doesn’t mean that they did. If Peter wants to make sure that Batman isn’t still on his case, he’s going to have to get a little payback stalking in.

It would complicate things if Batman followed Peter around and he either missed his chance to fight/find the hide out, or Batman jumped into the fight and messed with Peter’s chances. Surely, the man wouldn’t mind. Peter just needs to do a little digging around, it’s nothing personal.

(He’s so not going to enjoy this…

Ok, maybe a little.)

Peter puts the Jumping Radar in his backpack, zipping it up tight and leaving it on his desk. He makes sure to keep some money on him (nothing crazy, just enough) and pauses when he makes his way to the window. He hangs there on the sill, staring at his backpack with one foot out on the fire escape.

Should… Peter suit up?

Nahhh. That would be a bad idea.

If Batman is able to find Peter as easily as Peter is able to find Batman, then he shouldn’t introduce Spidey to Gotham just yet. It would get Batman on his case as an unsanctioned vigilante and potential threat. No, much easier to explain Peter being out than Spidey- Peter is already known for taking walks around Gotham at night.

Right. Not this time- Peter isn’t ready yet. He apologizes to his suit and ducks out onto the fire escape. He does, however, keep his webshooters on his wrist, hidden under his jacket sleeves. They look like black wrist warmers unless someone gets right up close, so that’ll be fine.

He takes a couple leaps and a few skips onto the roofs, getting back into the (not) swing of things. If he wasn’t going around as Peter, he would have just swung around, but he supposes it’s a good idea to brush up his parkour skills.

He weaves around the jangled mess of buildings of the Upper East Side, almost like a dance of stone and pipe and bad advertisem*nts on billboards.

Gotham has a different work than New York, what with all of these old, old buildings around. New York certainly has the old buildings, but nothing like this. This feels like it’s straight out of that Hunchback of Natre Dame movie. There are gargoyles on the roofs and battlements that he passes by, each one their own type of unique.

A lot of the buildings look like cathedrals, the apartments close together. But then sometimes, like right now, as Peter stands atop a roof and looks down at a city that reminds him of the black and white photos of the Industrial Revolution. It’s like Gotham has stepped out of multiple time periods- or, no, all the time periods settled in one place, rather than having the city move on.

Peter is surprised by how fast it was to feel a Bat nearby. He follows the tingle of his spider senses- which, is weirdly happy to know that a Bat is nearby, based on its hello!- and ducks into the shadows as he climbs the wall, five blocks away from Benny’s. Are they nearby because of Peter? Or is this unrelated?

Voices float down from above him, and Peter tilts his head to the side as he listens.

“Red Robin-”

“Oh, come on, B. Just look at this little face.”

“You can not take it home.”

Peter was wondering about the third, tiny heartbeat. Scaling up the side of the building, Peter presses himself flat and peeks over. Far enough away from where Peter is to not notice him, Batman and Red Robin are standing together. Red Robin is hunched over a small orange cat that has a clipped ear, purring loudly in his hands. Batman is pretending to be apathetic to this scene, but Peter hears the small amusem*nt in his tone.

“We have far too many animals at the home already.”

“We can afford it. You let Robin take home whatever animal he wants.”

“I do not, otherwise we would have three turkeys.” What????? “There’s a shelter nearby here that can take him in.”

They’re just gonna breeze past that???? Peter wants to know about the turkeys!

Red Robin scoffs, picking up the cat to show Batman. “How do you know it’s a boy?”

“Orange cats are not typically female.”

“Boooo,” Red Robin gives Batman a thumbs down.

Peter risks it and hops onto the roof, creeping upwards through pipes and metal on the top of the building. He crawls around a narrow passage of grate and wall and shimmies up to the top of the billboard. He swings his legs over the side and drops down silently to the metal walkway. He crouches low, and when they show no signs of noting Peter’s presence, he ends up sitting on the edge of the blacked out billboard, perfectly content in the shadows.

His eyes roam over the scene again from a newer perspective, up above them.

The city from up here is alive, more so than the five blocks back where Peter usually tromps around on the roofs. There’s railroad tracks down the street, and the (overwhelming) smells of the city below are muted. Twinkling lights from apartments and office buildings blink back at Peter, watching him too.

Gotham does feel alive, in a sense. Queens felt like he could know her, talk to her. Gotham, on the other hand, feels like he would never truly understand her, because he’s not from here. He just hopes that she takes a liking to him.

Red Robin sighs and sets down the cat at Batman’s murmur. The cat curls up on the ground lazy as can be, tail twitching idly. The younger vigilante sits down on the edge of the building, almost mirroring Peter’s own sitting position. Peter is much more relaxed than the other, one knee brought up to support his chin, his arm tucked around it to hold it close. Red Robin sits up straight, both hands next to him and feet against the wall of the building as if ready to jump at a moment’s notice.

Batman sits next to Red Robin the same way. They could be related, Peter thinks, just based on body language alone. That, and/or have worked together for a long time. There is a short distance that Batman tries to make up for by leaning towards the younger, just ever so slightly. If he wasn’t Peter, he wouldn’t have noticed it.

Peter recognizes a stakeout when he sees one. He’s been on plenty himself before, waiting for Black Cat to strike. She’s never really set herself up as going for the most expensive heist- at least, not yet, since she’s learning-, but she does like to get creative with how she steals and what she steals. So Peter ends up doing a lot of stake outs in weird places every time he catches wind of something she might like to grab.

He understands why they chose this spot- they’re just far enough out of sight that no one else could see them if they were looking up from the street, but they have the advantage of seeing the street in front of them and the two side streets crossing through it.

However, Peter hasn’t really staked out a place like this before. It’s a far cry from where Black Cat would strike, and is more like where some folks would hang out if they were looking for trouble. In front of the building they’re camped out at, there’s a sketchy looking bar with blacked out windows on the third and fourth stories. The fifth story has lights on and no black out curtains, save for one room on the far right.

He wonders who they’re waiting for here. Is it one of the city’s various rogues? Who was it that is out and about again…? Two-Face, for sure. He’s heard about some Killer Croc guy… and Firefly. That’s the one someone was saying they were worried about being in public spaces for because he’s prone for setting bombs.

Doesn’t seem like a Killer Croc would choose this place, it’s not exactly the sewers or deviously crowded. Maybe Firefly is known to frequent the bar? He’s not a meta from what Peter hears, just an arsonist. But if it’s a rogue, he’d count on that Two-Face guy. But it’s not like they only take down rogues, so there could be someone else down there. Oh- maybe a gang? Mafia? Peter has heard a few stories in passing. Benny mentioned a Black Mask at dinner the other night.

Peter settles that thought to the back of his mind and watches Batman, trying to get a sense of who the Bat is outside of rumors and distant footsteps in the shadows.

He’s heard that Batman can be ruthless, that he doesn’t kill but can leave someone so much worse. He’s heard that people think he’s secretly a meta, secretly a vampire, secretly secretly secrets. No one can get a read on what Batman is like outside of his appearances for fights, unless saved by him personally. But even then, they’d say he was intimidating, he was like seeing the night. But Peter is watching him now, and he’s…

Batman is awkward.

That’s Peter’s first real impression of the guy. Red Robin is semi-relaxed (or as relaxed as these two can be, apparently? Whatever it is, it’s showing that he’s more comfortable than Bats is). And it’s not like Batman is showing off tells of being uncomfortable. He’s not shifting around, his gaze is set on one spot, and he’s not clearing his throat.

It’s a suspicion at first. It’s sort of like watching Sam try to think of something to talk about with Peter that isn’t hero-related stuff. It’s when Batman opens his mouth that Peter’s suspicion is confirmed.

“There is something I wanted to ask you.”

Red Robin tenses, an almost imperceptible movement. Peter winces in sympathy.

“Yeah?”

“Are you doing anything in November?”

Almost all of the tension leaves Red Robin, and he cracks a small grin. Peter tilts his head, curious of the reaction. What was Red Robin thinking he’d ask? “No, I’ll be free. I know that Spoiler and Signal have been talking about going somewhere the first week of December, I can help them crack down any open cases before they leave.”

“Hm.” Is Batman’s first reply. Then, added as if trying not to back out: “You don’t have to do that.”

Red Robin finally tears his eyes away from the street below and towards Batman in confusion. “I… know?”

“I meant that…” Geez, is this how the Big Bad Bat acts when he’s not in a fight, or…? “Well, there’s a skateboarding competition in November. It’s in Tampa. You had been planning to go last year, but…”

The silence grows between them for a long time. Almost too long. Peter tries not to wince at how long Red Robin is leaving Batman out to dry here, but it’s hard not to. What happened last year that Red Robin couldn’t go to the competition? Also- Red Robin skateboards? That’s kinda cool, actually. Peter wants to try skateboarding but Tony and Pepper keep saying that Peter’s insane balance might not transfer to wheels. Which is stupid, but whatever. When Red Robin doesn’t say anything, Batman speaks again.

“I can get two tickets. Nightwing already assured me he would be in Gotham.”

“Oh?”

Batman clears his throat. “We could go for the week.”

“You- You want to go?” And wow, it sounds like Batman doesn’t have a lot of fun. Red Robin sounds like he’s heard the man say something bizarre, like that he wants to use puppies and rainbows for his next Batmobile aesthetic. It sounded normal to Peter. Guy wants to go hang out with his… teammate? Kid? Gotta be his kid. Maybe.

“Yes.”

“…It would be just us?”

“Yes.”

Red Robin looks back at the street, as if he’s actually having to think it over. If this was Peter, he would have already said “Hell yes!” if Tony had offered. He’d be bouncing around trying to think of where they can go for an entire week, just them. But Red Robin is hesitant, like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

There’s a history here Peter isn’t aware of, he thinks. What was supposed to just be a fun moment of stalking and maybe learning what they had on him turned into Peter being an eavesdropping eavesdropper. This is a little too personal for Peter to be listening in on…

He should go, maybe?

Yeah, he should go. There might be another Bat out tonight that Peter can stalk. Peter stands up to do just that when Red Robin speaks again.

“Did Nightwing ask you to do this?”

“No.”

The answer is very fast, very short and determined. It’s a lot for just one word. Peter pauses, not managing to uproot his feet but able to tear his eyes away from where they are. He observes the alley way from here, watches a distant train go by.

Why isn’t he moving?

“He doesn’t know about it. Not yet, anyway. I imagine I would have to tell him that.” Batman assures Red Robin. “It was my idea. I saw the competition was coming up, and I remembered what you said about wanting to go. I… want to go with you. It’s been too long since we did something as just us.”

“It- Not that long. We sat together yesterday.”

“We worked together yesterday. We work together a lot. What I meant was that it’s been too long since it was just us, doing something outside of work. Or outside of Gotham.” Red Robin’s lack of reply must scare Batman off, because he starts to retract his statement. “If you… do not want to g-”

“I do.” Red Robin sits up straighter, his full attention on Batman. The older vigilante has also turned his eye away from the street. The only indication that they are still focused on the bar they’re staking out is that they turn their heads ever so slightly every couple of seconds. “I do, I- I would like to go. I just… I mean, I didn’t expect that… I didn’t think you would want to go to something like that. Or… I don’t know.”

“You didn’t think I would want to spend time with you.”

OUCH. Peter and Red Robin both wince.

“That’s not-”

“I’m sorry.” Batman interrupts, and Red Robin promptly shuts his mouth. “That would be my fault. After everything… We were close, when you were Robin. The beginning was rough, but you… You are my son, and I should never have let it get this bad.”

“B, are you feeling okay?” The words almost fall out of Red Robin’s mouth.

“I’m learning to apologize.” Batman doesn’t rise to the deflection. For some reason, this makes Red Robin grin. Inside joke, Peter supposes. “Time has not been kind to us. You were alone for far too long, shouldering a weight on your own that you should never have had to hold. I don’t want you to feel like you are alone anymore. I missed you. I feel like I still miss you, even when you’re next to me.”

He misses Red Robin’s reaction to that. He misses what they say next to each other. Peter sucks in a short breath, closing his eyes and trying to muffle the sounds of the world. It’s too much like how Tony spoke to Peter- in a more direct way than Tony had said it, sure, but… It’s the same sentiment.

“I don’t want you to feel alone.”

He grits his teeth, shaking his head and taking a step back, his back almost pressed against the billboard now. Red Robin is smiling, and Batman is ruffling his hair, and Peter wishes he hadn’t come out to watch them anymore. He doesn’t know why- something about the scene strikes him as too frustrating. Too annoying.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he was hoping Batman would turn out to be a huge jerk. Someone Peter wouldn’t be comfortable working with, someone that Peter should avoid. He wanted to have a damn good reason that he isn’t asking for their help. He wanted the no meta rule to make sense, along with Batman being this evil guy who would never work with Peter.

Now, it makes Peter feel childish to want to hold back like he is, planning out his escape. To want to be alone, and figure this out alone. And it’s all stupid Batman’s fault because he’s trying to connect with his son, trying to show him he’s not alone, and that he cares.

Seriously, this guy sucks.

And is so confusing.

Peter barely holds back making a noise to voice his displeasure and he takes off.

He doesn’t want to watch anymore, there’s nothing valuable that he’s getting. He tries and tries to place what it is that has him so worked up as he lands in an alley behind the building and stuffs his hands in his jacket.

look it

He doesn’t get the time to think about it. His head snaps to the left.

He’s in a long section of buildings whose back doors face each other. On the other side are restaurants and buildings that face out towards the street, and where Peter just came from were apartments. There’s some scattered dumpsters (the smell is so repugnant that Peter is breathing shallowly), and a couple of alley cats.

Nothing interesting catches his eye, but he stands in wait. There’s a couple seconds where Peter is wondering if the cats were the reason for the warning bells going off- they do look mighty hungry enough to chase a skinny 14 year old human(ish)- but then a door bursts open and a group of people come tumbling out.

A woman hits the ground, a choked sound escaping her. She lands halfway in a puddle and it takes seconds before a large woman is yanking the other girl up by her hair. “Guess we’ll show you who you’re cheating.”

There’s a gaggle of others with them, six from Peter’s count. One of them is smoking a joint, a few hold their own beer cans, watching the scene as if watching two kids play fight. Peter takes three steps forward before he remembers:

He’s not wearing his suit.

Cursing his own damn decision, Peter observes the alley and its inhabitants again. He could go break it up- the woman lets out a whimper as a knife is pulled- but he’s still very obviously going to get caught if he does that. Batman and Red Robin are literally just a roof away, and any second they could swoop in and Peter will be forced to find out what happens to metas here.

But then again… There’s a Bat and a Robin on the rooftop above.

Peter doesn’t think twice, he doesn’t have the time for that. He takes off down the alley the opposite direction of the attackers and their victim, then skirts a fast right again down another alley about five buildings down. He makes it look like he’s just come around the corner from the road and he starts his way through the crowd of people on the street. His ears strain to keep track of where the woman is, his spidey sense hissing in his ear.

It doesn’t take much to make it look like Peter is in a rush, because he is. He hurries without actually breaking into a run, glancing down the buildings to check where he’s going.

watching watching watching

When Peter knows they’ve spotted him, he ducks into the correct alley. And then he breaks out into a run, trying to get closer in case they try to stop him. He hears the softest patter of feet following him from above just as he comes to a stop in front of the attack.

It was about thirty seconds, and Peter is so thankful that the knife hadn’t been used yet- at least, not on the woman’s skin. Her hair has been cut, brown locks in the puddle and a hand clasped over her mouth. Peter stands there almost, like, dumbly, because he hadn’t thought this far ahead, and all eyes land on him.

“Tha f*ck’s a kid doin’ here?” One of the men laugh.

“Go on, brat. Git outta here.” Another waves his hand, but someone else grabs his wrist and shakes his head, a grin spreading on his face.

“Nah, wait, this could be fun. Don’ this chick got a kid at home?”

Oh, sh*t.

Alright, not expected. He hadn’t thought this through, but he can handle it.

Peter takes a step back, making the mistake of locking eyes with the woman. She’s horrified, her eyes wide and she manages to get her mouth free from under that hand and shouts at Peter in such a desperate voice he’ll remember it for years.

“Run!”

One step back from Peter.

Three steps forward from one of the guys in the group.

And one bright figure drops in between them, grabbing the man’s wrist and yanking him down onto the ground in a swift and exact movement.

Red Robin presses his foot onto the man’s back, pulling his arm back at a painful angle. The man yelps and attempts to get free only for it to make the hold hurt worse. The larger woman who had the woman in her grasp lets go and makes a run for it to the left. Her friends have the same idea. They all tuck tails and scatter, Joint pushing through the door and Beer Number One slipping on the steps to get up.

Knife doesn’t get but a couple feet away. A dark shadow falls over the alley, and boots collide with concrete. She runs straight into a kevlar vest and bounces back, unable to catch herself and slipping on the wet concrete.

Psycho (the one who was going to get Peter involved, f*ck that guy in particular) is unconscious on the ground. Two more follow suit and Peter unfreezes as the fight unfolds. He grabs the victim’s cold hands and drags her away from the fight, kneeling down on the ground in front of her and shielding her from the others, his back facing them.

“What’re you still doin’ here!?” She shouts at him, but she’s holding so tight to his hand as if he’ll disappear.

“Are you injured?” He asks, but he’s already started checking. Her head seems fine, there’s no blood. Her hair isn’t in the same state, half of it is chopped off in large chunks. Her cheek is mottled with harsh red marks from repeated blows, her nose is dripping blood and a steady stream of tears run down her cheeks.

“You-You shoulda ran!”

“I don’t know if you noticed-” There’s a shout and one of the men hits the nearest dumpster and there’s a crack sound that Peter didn’t need advanced hearing to notice. “-but Batman and Red Robin are here.”

“But you- you didn’t run.”

“Run and leave you there?” Peter takes both her hands in his. She’s not actually all that much older than Peter, she’s probably around 17, maybe 18. She’s shaking all over and Peter doesn’t believe she’s aware that she is. “Not a chance.”

She shakes her head, blinking tears away. “Yer crazy… Thank you.”

Peter hopes his grin comes off as assuring- it’s easier in the mask, where people can imagine he’s smiling and comforting. She ducks her head onto his shoulder and he sets one hand on her shoulder. “It’s gonna be alright now. You’re okay, just take a deep breath. Focus on my breathing.”

She does, albeit it takes a minute. When she’s got the hang of it, Peter chances a glance over his shoulder. Batman and Red Robin are standing over four people, zip-tieing each of their wrists. Two got away during the scatter, the f*cking weasels. Peter will try to remember their faces for later. The woman is still trembling like she’s violently cold.

“Do you really got a kid at home?” Peter returns his attention to her.

She blinks at him, not expecting the question. Then she nods. “M-My son, Noah.”

“How old is he?”

“He- Two. He’s gonna be two, in a few days.”

“What? Really?” Peter sits rather than kneels now. Her heartbeat is still erratic, but she’s making her way towards calm enough. “That’s fantastic! You know, a lot of people say that, it’s like, what it’s called? The terrible twos? I think that’s bogus, ‘cause I had a foster sibling once who was around that age, and she was the sweetest angel ever.”

This gets a chuckle out of her. “Noah’s always so calm.”

watching

hello!

Peter looks up as the shadow falls over them. Batman watches them for a couple of seconds, a curious tilt to his head that’s almost not there at all. He kneels down in front of them both, hunching his shoulders, trying to make himself smaller.

He hasn’t gotten a chance to see Batman up close, even with the stalking a few minutes ago. The cowl makes it impossible to tell what he’s thinking, so Peter has to rely on body language. Even then, it’s like he purposefully covers it up, so no one can read him. He’s definitely looking at Peter though, he can feel the man’s eyes watching him, but it looks like he’s watching the woman.

“There is a clinic nearby that can treat your wounds, if you would rather not take an ambulance.” His voice is much gruffer than when he was speaking to Red Robin, but not harsh either.

“I-I’m really not hurt. My nose isn’t broken.” She sits up fully, still holding Peter’s hands. She makes eye contact with Batman for a second, looks away, then tries again a couple times.

“They will help you for free, courtesy of Wayne.”

“I’ll be okay. Thank you, Batman. And Red Robin too,” She finds it easier to look over Peter’s shoulder at the other vigilante. “I just want to get home.”

“I’ll take you.” Red Robin offers. Peter stands up, careful to go slow to help the woman stand with him. “I want to make sure you get home safe, if that’s alright.”

“I…” She hesitates, then looks right at Peter. “Will you be alright?”

Peter wasn’t expecting the question. “Of course.” He replies easily. “There’s Batman right here. Unless one of the many psychos of the city pop up out of that dumpster, I think it’s generally safe.”

“Generally?” She prompts, a small smile on her lips.

“There’s never a 100% chance.” Peter shrugs.

She laughs then, and Peter is grateful for it. It’s not a hearty thing, but it’s simple enough that it means she’s actually doing okay. “I- Alright. You take care, hear me? And next time, run.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Peter nods placatingly, cause ain’t no way he’s doing that. When she lets go of Peter’s hands and follows Red Robin down the alley, Batman follows the movement between them. There’s a shared glance between the vigilantes that Peter pretends not to notice.

With a wave goodbye, the woman and Red Robin are taking off using his grapple, leaving just Peter and Batman standing there.

Awkwardly.

Quietly.

Peter hates the quiet.

Peter puts his hands in his pockets and starts to whistle a little tune. He thinks it’s the Wild Krattz theme song, but he’s not quite sure. Sue him, he’s got a lot on his mind. Batman’s full attention snaps towards him.

“…Are you hurt?”

“Nah.” Peter shakes his head smally. Batman’s lips are pressed into a thin line.

“She was right. That was incredibly reckless of you not to run away. You could have been injured, or worse. What if we hadn’t been here to help? Your family would have lost you.”

As if Peter hadn’t gotten this same type of lecture before. Why were you out walking, Peter? Where’s your family, Peter? You could have gotten hurt, Peter. What if we hadn’t been here? What if, what if what if.

What if Peter hadn’t been here to help that woman? What if he had just stayed inside, and in another life, Noah never got to grow up with his mom?

And another thing- Batman knows damn well that Peter doesn’t have family like that.

“You were here to help. So I guess we won’t know.” Peter grins up at him- probably a spiteful little thing, too much like he’s being an asshole for no reason. Happy swears he picked it up from Tony, but Peter’s always been something of a brat, in his opinion.

There’s a few seconds where Batman doesn’t reply. Peter fills it in.

“Well, Mr. Batman,” Peter heaves out a dramatic sigh. “I should get goin’. Got places to be, other fights to walk into, y’know how it is.” He goes to take a step towards where he was pretending to go earlier when he just ‘stumbled’ across the fight, but Batman reaches out to stop him. He doesn’t block Peter in or touch him, but Peter stops anyway.

“I’ll bring you home. What is your address?”

Peter searches Batman’s face for a few seconds, then raises a brow. For all of Batman’s intimidating nature, for all of the fact that he’s a large, likely deadly man who just chooses not to kill, and the fact that his entire vigilante identity rides on being a force of nature to be reckoned with…

hello! safe worried safe equal

Spidey-sense is content with Batman’s presence. In fact, greeting him like he’s a friend. It says a lot, and Peter is sure he’ll have to figure out why later. All of the vigilantes he’s meeting just scream ‘safe.’ It’s driving him crazy.

Why can’t they give him a reason? Why can’t they just leave him alone? Why can’t they hurry up and prove that Peter has to do this alone? It’s so frustrating- it’s so fresh, this aggravation. He wants to tell Batman to f*ck off, but the man has done nothing wrong. That’s also the problem- he’s done nothing wrong. Peter has no good reason to be so wary, he has no reason to be afraid, he has to reason not to ask for help.

You asked for help with Him. No one came.

You would have died.

You should have died.

Adults will always disappoint you.

And yet.

safe…

“Come on, Mr. Batman, don’t play that game. Don’t you already know?” Peter doesn’t really think about the challenge in his words before he says it. But it’s out in the open, all Batman has to do is admit-

“Why would I?”

Hah! Peter was wondering if Batman would call him out. Surely the amount of times Peter accidentally looked his way while Batman was stalking him had to have been noticed. Batman’s pretty smart to avoid falling into that. But Peter’s smart too. He can play that game, if that’s what the man is wanting to do.

“Red Hood brought me back home the other night. Ain’t he a Bat too?”

“He may have mentioned bringing someone home a few nights ago. But I still do not know your address.” Huh. He didn’t answer Peter’s question. He answered it in a ‘sorta to the left’ way. Bastard. He’s good at this. There’s more to that, too, that Peter doesn’t know. Peter resists the urge to narrow his eyes, to ask questions and be nosy.

“It’s only a couple blocks from here.”

“Are your parents aware you’re out this late? It’s nearly 12AM.”

“Lemme just hop over to the cemetery and ask when my curfew is. I’m sure they’d die if I told them about this.” Peter relishes in the way Batman’s lips draw tight again. He shrugs and huffs, waving it off. “Gee, Mr. Batman, you look like you ate a lemon.”

“I wasn’t trying to-”

“I know, I know, I was just making a joke.” Peter says lightly. “I don’t have any folks. My foster dad is out of town. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“But it could hurt you.”

“Maybe.” Peter agrees. “But I guess that’d be on me. Y’know, my responsibility and all that. I’d make my bed and I’d lie in it.”

“Hn.”

For some reason, Peter can’t contain his grin at that response. It felt like an accomplishment to get that out of him instead of actual words. And once he gets the ball rolling, it’s hard to stop. “Hey, do you have echolocation in your suit?”

“No.” Batman is pressing someone on the wrist of his suit.

“Why not?”

“Hadn’t thought about it.”

“You should. You’re a bat. That’s like, their thing. You think of a bat and you go, ‘yeah, they echo locate.’ It’s basically, like, kind of part of the image. On standard alone you should have it.” Peter says thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’d be hard for you. You’ve got that handy dandy computer on your wrist- which I should point out is dangerous near your vital organs? But you do you I guess- and you got EMP shielding or something, right?”

Batman hesitates. He hesitates.

“You know that how?”

Gotcha!

“I saw it on Signal’s suit during one of his take downs the other day. I figured that’s a cool tool to have, so why wouldn’t you put it in other suits?” Peter rambles, elated to have gotten Batman a little freaked. “So if you can put that in your suit, why not an echo locator? It’d be useful in situations where you have low visibility. I mean, all you’d really need is an advanced sound generator, a high quality microphone, signal processing-”

“You’ve really thought about this.”

“Huh? No, I’m thinking about it now.” Peter furrows his brow. “You also have like, electroshock or something, right? I heard some old lady talking about it on the train the other day. Have you thought about energy shielding-”

Peter’s cut off by a dark form stopping in the road a few feet away.

“Holy sh*t, is that the Batmobile?”

He’s over there in seconds (probably a little too fast, based on the way Batman is watching him, but not enough that it would say anything), eyes shining as he gets a look at the Batmobile for the first time.

Stupidly named or not, it’s incredible. None of Tony’s cars look this cool (even if Peter likes those cars and can name every single one he has), because Iron Man thinks it’s “tacky” to have a vehicle for this purpose. They have jets and planes and all sorts of other modes of transportation.

The back almost looks like a Fiat Turbina, and the rest of it is smooth and low like a Chevrolet Impala- but it’s got a lot of hidden specials that Peter is itching to get closer to, he can tell they’re there. The car is sturdier than it should be, a bit more bulky to keep it all hidden from sight. It’s likely that this thing is built to get into even the worst of crashes without so much as a scratch. The tinted windows gleam in the lights of the street, all shiny and pretty and-

“Unfair that this this beauty belongs to you, old man.”

Batman huffs under his breath in something that could be a laugh, walking to the driver’s side of the car. There’s a moment where nothing happens, then the handle on the passenger side brightens with a small screen. The door unlocks and pops open itself, gliding up and outwards to reveal an even cooler inside with leather seats and a f*ck ton of buttons Peter is going to not press. Batman is already sitting inside, as if the jerk expects Peter to sit his ass down no problem.

Oh, this could definitely be a kidnapping. And as loathe as he is to admit this… Peter is risking it for this car.

He hops right on in, the doors closing when he buckles his seat belt. He looks over the dashboard eagerly, attempting to keep his hands from doing grabby ‘must push button’ motions that Tony constantly bats his hands away for doing. “Is that for the grappling hook launchers?” He points to a button near him.

“I’m not telling you that.”

“So it is.” Peter hums as the car revs to life. Batman didn’t press a key to the ignition, nor did Peter see any particular activation. Cool… “Do you have a Batmissle?”

Batman ignores that question. “Address?”

“Benny’s, 5 blocks over.” Peter says fast. “Batshield?”

“The burger restaurant?”

“Yes. Does everything have Bat in front of it? If so, please tell me that’s not your fault.”

-

Batman did answer the last question. A lot of his equipment does, in fact, have Bat in front of it. No, it is not his fault. Peter can blame Nightwing for that.

Interesting that he answered that and nothing else. Interesting that he returned Peter to Benny’s and did not kidnap him, even though it would have been deemed easy for him to do so. Interesting that Peter can’t figure out if he’s annoyed at Batman or not still.

Interesting interesting interesting… All of that manged to keep Peter up far later than he should have. But whatever, what’s done is done.

He woke up the next morning and did his best to push all of that aside to worry about later. He got… something? Out of that interaction? He takes a shower, dresses in his warmest clothes because there’s a slight chill in the air that threatens to get colder during the day, eats breakfast with Benny downstairs (eggs and toast, with strawberry jam and not grape because he isn’t an animal), and settled into this room to draw up plans for the Jumping Radar.

It’s a relatively quiet day outside (a curse of road rage only every hour or so instead of thirty minutes), and Peter manages to focus long enough to get his prototype one finished.

It’s nothing special, but it has a charm to it that Peter likes to see. He tried to make it match the nanobracelet that Peter got from Tony, if just to make his tech look like it belongs together, but there’s only so much that a junkyard part could look like a lab-made Stark Tech. It’s light enough that it can go under his jacket sleeve no problem, and it only opens if Peter uses his thumbprint.

He should test it…

He hesitates to do so. He got lucky last night with Batman being more chill than he could have been. The man was biting back a lecture about the dangers of the streets the entire time Peter was alone with him. Peter likely goaded him too much, got on his nerves just enough, that Batman might not be as nice if he caught Peter again.

And because Peter had shown he was back to wandering Gotham at night, he’ll likely get at least one Bat swooping by Benny’s, and they might keep an eye out for him.

Deciding that going during the daytime would be better, lest he get another lecture from a Bat, Peter hid the Jumping Radar in his backpack, tied his shoes, and left Benny’s in a hurry. There’s a tingling at the back of his neck he can’t place a name to yet, so he chooses to keep his head down as he walks around.

The mental map of Gotham is growing stronger day by day. It’s very different to Queens, but not that different. There’s old courts where people play basketball together (even though they have barbed wire over the fences), and there are hot dog vendors (who carry shotguns on their hip), and even a bodega.

That… didn’t have a cat inside, so Peter decided not to trust it.

Gotham is just… weird. That’s all he can really put it as. There’s the mix of people that are just trying to survive, and people who are desperate to survive, and then the greedy on top of it. It’s not dissimilar to how life always is, it’s just amplified here.

Peter supposes it’s the presence of organized crime just as much as the sheer amount of wack villains running around. They don’t get much of that in Queens lately, because Peter had been cracking down on it. And not as many people turned to gangs for an effort to survive when the Avengers were constantly out in New York helping people do so.

It’s been nine days now in this universe, and Peter has been involved in and seen more crime than he would have in a little over a week in his universe. He had to pass by someone stealing the tires off of a postal truck with the post guy still inside the truck just to get out of the house.

Peter had first appeared in the University District, right outside of Gotham hospital and nearby Gotham Public Library. Over the days, he had avoided the Bowery and Crime Alley, sensing just how bad it could get in there. Stay away stay away stay away his senses told him.

This meant that Peter had ended up in the Upper East Side. Benny’s is there, and while it isn’t the best place to be, it’s certainly not the worst. A few days ago, he had explored to the middle of the island that Gotham is, towards Robinson Park, and then down towards the Diamond District. These are far better off than the other places, and that had to be due to more police presence in the area.

Which is something of a false identity. Because Peter already knew this, but apparently it’s doubled in Gotham: the cops are corrupt.

So what Peter should say? The area appears far better off than the other places, but he should be wary of every interaction he has.

He looks up at the tallest building in Diamond District, standing in a small square to get his bearings. Wayne Industries says the side, and Peter is struck with a sense of dejavu.

That’s the name of the man in the first article that Peter saw about Gotham, when he first got here. “Bruce Wayne” and something about his green-energy initiative, that was apparently more exciting for people to know about than the mayor that was assassinated. Batman had almost mentioned him last night, something about him paying for medical care, so people can get assistance for free.

Huh…

Peter squints at the building in thought. This Wayne guy must be a millionaire or a billionaire, like Tony is. This isn’t the first time he’s heard of Wayne’s name, it’s got to be the hundredth. He passes by bus-stops with this guy’s face on them, he has billboards, he’s on the side of hospitals. He’s as rooted in Gotham as the crime is, just on the opposite side. Peter’s seen more about him than he has for who the new mayor is going to be.

It reminds him of Tony again, and Peter can’t help but frown. Each day that passes, Peter is more and more eager to get back. If only… here If… hey only…

…here right here… hey here…

Peter scans the crowd, turning in a circle with his hands in his pockets. He can tell that something is nearby but what- No. Someone. It’s not even a question as to who, he knows that feeling now. Peter turns again, searching, scanning for a hint of that face-

there!

Getting pushed out of the Wayne Industry tower, the man that Peter has been searching for flings a suitcase at the windows, cussing up a storm. A flurry of papers scatter across the walkway and Gotham’s finest citizens desert the area without even looking up at him.

He steels himself as he pushes through the crowd. What is he doing here, of all places? Peter had thought he’d find the man hiding in some warehouse, not out in the open wearing a barely-hanging-on suit and tie. The sleeve around the man’s wrist is bumpy, Peter can tell he has the device on his arm. The man’s suitcase has spilled onto the ground, and a security guard is in his face, red like a tomato from yelling, and his heart beat is more like-

scared?

“Don’t come back, or you’re getting arrested!”

“This isn’t fair! Let me in, I have an appointment!”

“From two days ago!”

“And so what if I missed it? Tell him to make the time to see me!”

“Get outta here!”

He is trying to get tech or something! Wayne Industries is different from Wayne Enterprises, even if it’s the same company. Why else would the man come here, if not for tech? That’s why he attacked Peter, that has to be it! He was after Tony the entire time. Though, now he’s out here actually making appointments rather than stealing Bruce Wayne’s kids. Peter feels a little jealous about that.

Peter pushes past a few people, barely muttering out his sorries, but no one cares. He keeps his eyes trained on the old man as he picks up his suitcase, locked out of the tower for good. He roughly stuffs the papers inside and snaps the suitcase shut, stalking down the street and pulling at his hair. The man’s three piece suit is in shambles, half of it buttoned on the wrong button and his tie too loose.

angry… danger… careful… crazy…

Yeah, even without his spider-senses telling him, Peter gets that impression. He has to approach this carefully. He shouldn’t start a fight, not yet. It’s way too crowded in the streets, he doesn’t have a mask, and the Jumping Radar hasn’t been tested yet. Instead… Yeah, instead, Peter should track down where this guy has been coming and going. He has to have a home, or a base of operations or something. Maybe if Peter can get inside, he can get more information on that wrist piece.

A woman with a poodle gets in his way, and Peter scoots around them, trying not to take his eyes off of the man. He’s taller than Peter remembered, but maybe it’s because he isn’t as hunched down?

“-good for nothings- will be sorry- boss-” The man is raving under his breath, clicking his tongue every few seconds. There’s an almost hissing noise that escapes him. Peter doesn’t like the sound of that.

A bus hisses next to Peter’s ear, the steam getting in his face. He skips around it to find the man is getting farther and farther down the street. Peter curses, picking up the pace. He doesn’t want to alert the man that he’s nearby, but what if he loses him?

It’s when Peter passes by an alley that things start to go wrong.

…in there!

He hesitates, his feet stopping in the middle of the alley. He glances to his left, not spotting anything at first. He looks at the man’s back, watching his form getting smaller the farther he gets. It must have been a fluke, nothing-

“-fine and dandy.” A girl’s voice groans. “Doesn’t hurt at all. Take your time getting here.”

sh*t. sh*t sh*t shiiiiit.

Peter runs a hand through his hair. He takes a step forward to go after the man, gritting his teeth as he does so, but his foot hangs mid-step in the air. The guilt starts to eat at him, crawling it’s way up inside him.

Peter wants to go home.

But he can’t…

As the man turns the corner down the block, Peter gives in. He turns into the alley.

When he gets closer to the dumpster in the alley, he spots a purple boot sticking out from behind it. He can smell the copper of blood before he even sees the person, and he holds back a wince. He peers around the corner, slow and deliberate.

Another Bat. Spoiler he remembers. The girl-woman? He can’t tell her age. She’s curled over her side, a hand over a knife that had been stuck in a weak spot of her body armor. Her hand trembles as she tries to keep pressure.

It’s rare that he sees the Bats in daylight, other than Signal. They stick to the night, when the crime is at its worst. Which means that one of their Bad Guys is out and about, causing all kinds of mayhem, and there wasn’t a Gotham alert gone out (Apparently, the city has alarms, like tornado alarms, that ring out in a section of city where rogues appear). But he hasn’t heard anything about it, and his spider-sense is just a low hum…

Well, not that that means anything. The city is so infested with crime, that Peter’s spider-sense is pretty much always going off in some way. He might have missed it because he was so focused on catching his own villain.

But that doesn’t matter now. Spoiler is hurt, and Peter can’t leave her here.

He slings his backpack around and unzips it, alerting her to his presence. Her head snaps up and she reaches for her utility belt, only to pause when she sees Peter. He pulls out a white and red box, zips up his backpack, and sets it on the ground as he kneels in front of her.

“Kid, what?” She has a voice modulator too, but it’s a lot more present in her voice than it was for Red Hood. Her entire face is hidden by a black mask over the lower half of her face, a domino mask over her eyes, and a purple cloak with a hood. Blood stains the inside of the cloak and her side, pooling beneath her.

“I don’t have any purple bandages to match the aesthetic.” Peter comments as he pops the first aid kit open. “Hope that won’t be a problem.”

She lets out a soft laugh. “…Nah, I don’t think it will be.”

Peter scoots closer, assessing the wound itself. It doesn’t look like it went in too deep, but it’s lodged in there mostly because of the armor. He scrunches his nose in distaste- he hates stab wounds, always will, but it’d be weirder if he liked them. He takes out a rag from the first aid kit.

“D’you just carry that around?”

“No, not at all. I just happened to have one on me today. Had a feeling I’d stumble across a vigilante with a stab wound.” Peter replies, raises a brow at her as he presses the rag to her side. He’s careful not to jostle the knife.

“Smart idea.” Spoiler mumbles. “Hey, you know, m’ friends have seen you around.”

Peter stares at her. “Yeah, I know. You guys are just falling out of the sky ‘round here. You should look into that. If I didn’t know that vigilantes had better things to do with their time, I’d be suspicious that I have a few stalkers.”

Spoiler doesn’t have anything to say to that. “One of them is on his way, so I’ll be good.”

“I’m not leaving you with a stab wound until I hand you off to someone who can get you to a doctor.” He wonders if she might be crazy or something.

“How do y’ know about first aid?”

“I know enough to know you can’t leave someone whose been stabbed in a back alley next to a dumpster.” Peter dodges the question.

“Why are you helping?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?” Peter is almost offended. He scowls at her, reminding himself that Gotham is just insane. The lady last night had been appalled that Peter hadn’t ran for it just to save himself. He supposes that’s how it is here- to live, a person has to look out for just themself. The first sign of danger, they turn away.

And while it makes sense, and he can’t fault them for living that way… It’s just not what he was taught.

“Geez, you people are so weird, I’ll tell you that. If I can help someone, and then I don’t help them, then wouldn’t that make me a jerk?”

Spoiler mutters something unintelligible.

“Hey, don’t pass out,” Peter snaps his free hand in front of her face, her head slumping forward and rising again. “I’m not removing your mask because I’m such a nice person, but you better not have a concussion under there. Blood loss is bad enough.”

behind

Peter doesn’t have to fake look over his shoulder, because Red Robin drops to the ground a little more harshly than he should have. His ankles are probably going to hurt later because of that, but he doesn’t seem to care.

He backs away to give him room to kneel down in front of her. Red Robin doesn’t look surprised to see Peter, so he’s guessing Spoiler's comm was on. He’s entirely focused on her, his hands gripping her wrist to check for a pulse.

“Hey, Spoiler, you with me?”

“Hey, boyf…” Spoiler mutters. Red Robin lets out a short sigh of relief.

Now that Peter isn’t seeing him in the dark and from afar, he can get more detail about Red Robin. He has black hair that falls in his face, a black domino mask with a hint to the bat symbol on the ends. What stands out the most is that this is the youngest Robin he’s seen so far, just a few years older than Peter. Maybe just about to turn 18, or a little older. His black cloak falls over his shoulder, and his hands are gentle when he lifts Spoiler.

He fully steps out of Red Robin’s way as the older guy shifts to a fireman’s carry, careful not to jostle her wound. He nods briefly to Peter, but he’s more worried about his friend than some kid.

“See ya, kid. Thnks…” Spoiler slurs, and they’re off.

Peter waves goodbye.

He stands in the alley for a moment, looking at the blood she left behind. She’ll be okay… And Peter… Peter should try to figure out where that man went. But he has a feeling that he’s long gone by now, and he missed his chance.

-

“You stabbed.”

The next morning after Steph faced off an angry Two-Face and had to scram because he got that lucky shot in finds Steph laying in bed and trying to heal, a revolving door of visitors constantly checking on her.

Steph can’t hold back a sheepish grin as Cass settles down in the seat next to her bed. On the other side, Tim is muttering to himself and writing in his notebook with a dangerous fury. He hasn’t gotten much sleep, but last night he was being overprotective again and wouldn’t calm down about Steph’s wound, so he’s even more tired.

“Yeah,” Steph signs back as she speaks. “I got stabbed.”

“Being stupid?” Cass smirks, and Steph rolls her eyes.

“No, not this time.”

Cass seems to have it in mind that Steph likes getting stabbed or something. It isn’t her fault that people have knives. She already dreads the moment that she’s all better and everyone makes her run through defense training again- especially Bruce, who’s a stickler for that.

“What is Tim doing?” Cass asks, gesturing to Tim at the end. Steph sighs, and Tim doesn’t show an indication that he’s heard it.

“He’s still stuck on Peter, but he’s studying for class right now. I think.” Steph tries to see his paper, but it’s a bunch of nonsense. “Could be both?”

“Peter?” Cass spells out, and Steph realizes-no one must have filled her in before she got here.

Cass has been in Hong Kong, arriving to provide backup, what with the three rouges out and roaming the streets right now. She’s mostly here to help Dick, who’s been running back and forth between Gotham and Bludhaven for a few days now. But… that’s going to change, considering Steph was stupid enough to let Two Face get the jump on her.

Well, she has a lot to get caught up on. Who better for that job than Steph?

“Peter is a boy that showed up at Babs’ library.” Steph explains (because she doesn’t want to think about how she messed up, not yet, when the pain has only just dulled), and she considers making a name sign for Peter so they don’t have to spell it out. “He was covered in bruises, and according to her and Dick, it was pretty bad. Like someone tried to kill him.”

“Boy?” Cass tilts her head. “Young?”

“Yeah, pretty young.” Steph recalls Peter’s face now that she’s seen him up close, in person. She had seen him on their screens, had heard through word of mouth about him. But seeing him up close was different.

He’s just a kid.

And yeah, she knows, it’s sort of… Well, they aren’t new to that, right? Kids getting injured, kids being lost, kids being homeless, kids… having no one to watch them. Every single one of them knows all too well about this.

But really, seeing him up close, it hurt. Maybe even more than the stab wound had.

He still has baby face. He’s got these big brown eyes that look right through you and seem to see and notice everything. He’s got freckles on those tan cheeks that prove he’s really not from around here, because seriously, Gotham never sees the sun. Peter doesn’t belong in a place like this, and Steph is really glad she hadn’t seen the extent of the wounds the others were talking about.

Even though the thought makes her guilty, that she was glad that Peter was obviously hiding healing bruises on his neck and his cheek, because they weren’t there even though they should be.

She had heard about his encounter with Batman the night before last. Tim had spoken about how he comforted the victim, that he didn’t think to run. Bruce had been exasperated, but between his concerns about what Peter had done and said, he would grin when he recalled the boy’s energy and excitement about the Batmobile and the like.

And honestly, it tracks. He had been so calm yesterday, despite the situation. Anyone else stumbling across a vigilante losing blood would have freaked out, or ran, or attacked. But Peter had taken control like nothing was that weird about the situation, tossing around jokes. Which Steph can appreciate.

She keeps thinking about her blood on his hand, though, when he was waving goodbye, and the humor is dulled.

“He might be 12 or a little older. He’s a good kid, I think,” Steph pauses, her mind still wandering back to his smile-frown that he had, trying to cheer her up and keep her calm even though he was a civilian kid, and she was a vigilante who’s had far worse. “You should ask Bruce, Dick, and Jay about their encounters with him, he’s… a character for sure. He found me before Tim could get to me and held my wound so I didn’t bleed out.”

Cass’ eyebrows raise, and Steph grins up at her.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been bragging about it. He’s such a sweet kid! He even told me: ‘If I can help you, and I don’t, then wouldn’t that make me a jerk?’ And it was sooo cute, ‘cause he said it like helping was the most obvious thing in the world to do!” Her sister grins back at that, and Steph knew she’d appreciate the sentiment. “We can’t find anything on him, though. And by ‘we’ I mean Boyfie here.” Steph jerks a thumb at Tim. “And Babs and Bruce too, but they’re forced to focus on the rouges that got out.”

“Can’t find anything?” Cass is confused, pointing to Tim, who seems to know the conversation has shifted into prime complaining time for him, because he looks up. “He, of all people, can’t find Peter?”

“I’m convinced this kid didn’t exist before a few days ago, Cass.” Tim groans, setting his cheek on his notebook paper in a dramatic fashion. The two girls look at each other in exasperation, but smile nonetheless. “There’s nothing about any Peter in the foster system that looks like him, and all of the Tony’s that are foster dads that I found have no connection to Peter at all. The little details we have of him don’t match up either.”

“It’s driving him nuts.” Steph giggles into her hand, and winces as she feels the wound in her side protest. Cass and Tim frown, and Steph can sense the emotional distress from a mile away. She waves them off. “I’m fine. It’s just a little light stabbing, no biggie.”

“I’ll take your patrols until you get better.” Cass signs, and Steph reaches to squeeze her shoulder in appreciation. “Anything I look out for?”

“Peter.” Steph says, and Tim squints at her.

Steph gets that. She hadn’t been as involved in the Peter thing as he, Bruce, Jason, and Dick are. She was supposed to be focused on the rouges- actually, she and Damian, because lately, Bruce has been wanting Damian to work with her more often. Maybe it’s because when Bruce goes stalking checking on Peter, Damian gets frustrated just like Tim does, but with a little more Kick to it. She shrugs a little, drawing out a long sigh.

“What? I want to thank him, somehow. If she can figure out how to do that for me, that’d be great. It’s not like I can get suited up and do it now, so I have to wait. We all know I’m impatient like that.”

And there- right there. Cass and Steph both notice the gleam in Tim’s eyes. A familiar gleam that causes the both of them to tense up. Cass first, because she can always sense it before Tim can even think it.

“…You’re gonna stalk him as a civilian, aren’t you?” Steph narrows her eyes at him. He avoids her eyes, the idiot. “That’s dangerous, Tim.”

“How so?” He protests, not even denying that was what he’s thinking.

“Two reasons. For one: He could figure you out if you hang with him too long, he’s seen you in suit a couple times now. And two: because you’re gonna get close to him, and you’re gonna get attached, and he’s gonna end up here. And if he’s even kinda sort of good at fighting, or detective work- and you know, he is good with computers, enough that Babs was impressed, so that would be a reason too- then you guys are gonna end up with another damn Robin. Damian isn’t ready for there to be two Robins running around.”

“That’s not true.” Tim argues, and it falls flat in front of them. “…Alright, maybe-”

“Knock knock!”

Dick knocks on the door and says it out loud, much to the annoyance of Tim and Steph. They both groan with complaint that dies out when he enters the room. Cass signs what they’re all thinking.

“Zombie…”

“Hey, I saw that.” Dick stops next to the bed, and Cass just grins at him, the perfect little angel that she is.

He looks more tired than Tim is, and that is a feat. His hair, usually a great source of pride for him, his half up and has a few flyaways as if he had pulled it out of his face in a hurry. The circles under his eyes were starting to get more pronounced.

It’s no wonder why he’s tired, the man really is getting split in two directions with Bludhaven and Gotham. Bludhaven is 33 minutes away, but it takes at least an hour and a half, sometimes two hours depending on traffic, to get through Gotham and then to Bristol, where the Manor is.

Steph, as much as she tried putting it off, is hit with a pang of guilt for getting injured. Cass was supposed to be here to help Dick out, and now she’s taking up for Steph instead. Dick must sense the upcoming storm, because he reaches over and tucks her hair behind her ear with a smile.

“What’s with the frowning? None of that, kay? We’re all glad you’re okay.”

Steph can’t argue against it, she knows it’s futile. She simply smiles, leaning into his hand. He’s really a good older brother to everyone he comes across. It’s like he always knows when Steph is starting to feel bad, sometimes before she even notices it herself. His relationship with Tim got rocky recently, but they had some sort of talk, because now they’re back to what it was before.

Or, maybe, better than they were before.

“Dick, did you just get here?” Tim is making his Revenge Face. Dick, too tired, misses this completely, and he shrugs.

“Yeah, but I had to stop by and check on Steph-”

Tim stands up, hopping over the foot of Steph’s bed and scrambling to grab the man. Dick’s eyes widen comically large, and he attempts to take a step back. It’s too late, Tim already has him by the shirt. “Sleep. Now.”

“Wait-”

“No waiting.” Tim argues, yanking him harder than he needs to. Dick stumbles, looking back for help only to find the two girls agreeing with Tim. It’s early in the morning, but Dick needs his rest, sleep schedule be-damned. “Sleep now.”

Steph and Cass can hear them wrestling in the hall, so Cass shuts the door.

-

Thanks to the set back (he can’t be mad about it, not when he knows that Spoiler is alive and he managed to help her, so maybe he shouldn’t call it a set back), Peter hadn’t seen the villain for the rest of that day. He attempted to track down where he could have gone after hitting that corner, but it was like the man up and vanished. Which…

Yeah.

He can do that.

So it’s very likely that he did.

Where to is still a mystery, and one that Peter is going to get to the bottom of. No more waiting for Spider-Man. It’s been ten entire days since he got here. That’s more than enough time for him to gain his bearings. He can’t sit on his ass all day and wait for this guy to stroll by again.

His current plan to get Spider-Man up and running is the same plan that he used all the time before he met Tony. “Sneak into a school and steal.” He’s pretty good at it, if he does say so himself.

Peter sticks close to a group of students as they make their way into the building. This is one of the better schools in Gotham, and he’s betting that they’ll have at least some- if not all- of what he needs to make his web fluid. He’s running way too low for his spidery needs, and he needs to stock pile.

He misses Tony’s lab right now just a little less than he misses Tony himself. If Peter was running out of web fluid, he could just walk into the lab and make a new supply that could last him weeks. And it’s times like these that he wishes he could biologically make web fluid, but also, he thinks, that would be gross.

Somehow, Peter manages not to stick out in the crowd of students. He got lucky that Gotham doesn’t care about uniforms as much as they could. Even with his clothes being a somewhat ratty and too big for him, he gets by based on heavy experience with this sort of thing. He hangs close to the walls and in groups, moving seamlessly as though he knows where he’s going. He’s just “off to class” like every other kid here, no need to freak that he could get caught. The longer that he’s here, the more clues he can pick up on where a lab might be, and more importantly, where some readily-available-but-not-really-chemicals might be waiting for him.

A group of older students on the stairs are talking about first period chemistry. Bingo!

Peter holds back a smirk as he fits behind their group on the stairs. No one even sends him a passing glance. Which could hurt his feelings, but doesn’t!

He leaves their group just as they make their way into a classroom, aimlessly talking about the Homecoming and a Parent-Teacher day. It isn’t a lab, but the lab won’t be farther than the classroom… There. Just down the hall, he spots the glorious sight of lab tables. Thankfully, when Peter finds this room it’s completely empty of students and teachers alike. He goes ahead and locks the door, shutting the blinds before making his way towards the teacher’s area.

This reminds him of the good-old-days (bad days) where he would sneak into Midtown and steal the chemicals from the teacher’s room. Everything is available for the taking: salicylic acid, touline, methanol, carbon tetra-chloride, potassium carbonate, ethyl acetate…

“Oh, how I missed you!” Peter mumbles to the shelf, picking out what he needs.

His own custom webbing had taken him months to figure out, and now it only takes a few minutes to make. First, he considered using silk, but it wasn’t sticky nor malleable enough for what he wanted to do. Synthetic silk had ended up the same, with it only around .875 gigapascals. In his latest version of the web formula, he had gotten it as close to real human-spider webbing as scientifically possible by using the resources Tony gave him, and he had been able to increase the webbing’s distance along the way.

Tony’s lab isn’t here, so Peter won’t be getting that webbing, but his second best version instead. He’ll just have to fall back on what he knows for now. Peter has 14 CO2 cartridges to hold the webbing fluid, and that can last him a while. Hopefully, he doesn’t need more than two week’s worth. (Actually, he’s hoping he’s home as soon as Spider-Man can get into action.)

He smacks the goggles into place and reaches for a pair of gloves, rubbing his hands eagerly. The bubbling of the formula always pleases him when he stirs. Sort of like he’s making a potion, like a witch.

“Double, double, toil and trouble…” Peter sing songs to himself as the web fluid grows sticky in the beaker.

Creepy when you do that, Bambino. He can hear Tony as if the man is sitting across from him. Peter smiles to himself. Need to get you a witch costume for Halloween.

The web fluid settles in the beaker as Peter shakes his head. He can’t get distracted thinking about something other than getting out of here.

With that out of the way, Peter cleans up his mess as though he were never here. He stores the cartridges in his bag for now, his other jacket keeping them from clinking around in there. When he’s satisfied that his presence has been erased- and that classes are in full swing, so no one should be in the halls- Peter unlocks the lab door and makes his way out.

Peter had always been used to empty hallways. He stopped going to school when he was 12, after all, and got all of his education from the library. (He wasn’t about to let being homeless stop him from learning everything he could.) But he still saw schools all the time, when he was breaking and entering to steal from them.

Now that he actually goes to school, and he isn’t just sneaking in at night, he thinks an empty hallway might actually be a weird sight. But it’s similarity to something he knows makes him feel at ease.

Then again, it also eats at him that something is missing.

No, not something. Someone.

Ned, Peter’s best friend. He can say that confidently, without a worry in the world. He had met Ned the summer before he finally entered high school, the both of them finding the same corner to hide in during the orientation meet and greet. Ned had been easy to talk to, what with both of their tendencies to ramble and love to listen.

It wasn’t hard for them to get to know each other. Peter draws in comfort when he is beside Ned, the boy’s presence alone able to wash away the anxiety that came with re-entering school. He didn’t need a lot of friends, not when he has Ned.

Even when he figured out that Peter is Spider-Man, he stuck by Peter’s side and swore secrecy before Peter even suggested it. He wasn’t excited because he had a friend that was Spider-Man, a hero who could do all of these cool things. He was excited because it was Peter. And that had brought a comfort to him that Ned will never really know.

That’s why he can’t decide on if the school hallways being empty are a relief or a burden on him. He’s fallen back to seeking out what is familiar: isolation, shielding himself from the other people in the world. Never letting anyone get too close, because if they did, they’d see how Not Fine he is.

Peter thought it was a good thing, but he’s not so sure anymore.

He doesn’t wonder about the psychology of that, or that he likes to talk to himself. Instead, he focuses on the view of the school itself, since he has the time now. It’s crazy what one can miss when they’re in a rush to steal chemicals.

The school is fancy, but not in the way that Midtown is fancy. Midtown is all modern architecture, hallways with big glass window-walls and courtyards with walking paths that make no sense. The lighting was always too harsh on Peter’s eyes; he has beef with fluorescent lighting. However, the architecture for Gotham Prep is like the rest of Gotham, a Gothic style that is a sullied with posters of cartoons and motivational cats.

Classrooms have doors that were clearly just replaced, because they’re shinier than the walls and smell like newly polished wood. The lighting isn’t fluorescent, and Peter thinks that’s the best thing about this place. The lights come from tiny chandeliers on the ceiling, the kind that look like electrical candles.

The lockers remain the same. They’re darker than Midtown’s, but they’re decently clean and people like to decorate the outsides. One locker that he passes has a mirror on it (he so needs a haircut soon), and another has a poster of some kind of pop-star of this universe- no, wait, that’s a superhero. He has a big red S on his shirt, but he doesn’t look exactly like Superman- he’s got a more punk look about him. Is there more than one Superman?

He stops at a grand-looking trophy case that sits next to the staircase. It’s filled with trophies on every shelf, and he wonders what’s taking them so long getting another trophy case to put next to it it is sorely needed. He starts looking at one end, where the older trophies are, before taking a sneak peek at the names on the newer trophies.

The most recent name on the shiny trophy in front of him makes Peter pause.

‘Eugene Thompson- Academic Decathlon.’

No f*cking way.

Peter scoffs, blinking as if to clear the name and see another. Flash? The Flash Thompson? The annoying guy from his classes, the one always on about some rivalry with Peter? That Flash Thompson, here, in an alternate universe?

He has got to see this.

His mind is racing with thoughts, possibilities that he hadn’t considered until now. He wonders if he could break into the school’s system and see what classes he might be in, and try to catch a glimpse of what he looks like here. He had briefly wondered with Benny and Biggie being so alike if there were counterparts of people in each of their worlds, but he hadn’t looked into it yet. Even if there are counterparts, he can’t say that these would be friendly faces here.

Wouldn’t it be insane? To think that there could be versions of his friends and family, right here in Gotham, and he just hasn’t met them yet? A part of him is curious, but the other part thinks he should wait and see what this Eugene is like before he gets too excited.

What would an alternate version of Tony be like? Or Pepper? Or Happy?

Peter can’t stop himself from giggling. Maybe Happy would be called Sadly and Pepper called Salt. Tony must not be Iron Man in this dimension, or else he would have heard of the superhero by now, even in Gotham. Oh, what if Tony is nearby? He might not be exactly like his Tony, but it would be cool to see. And if he’s funny in this universe, he would so be able to tease Tony with this information.

That settles it. Peter has to know. It’s just too good of an opportunity for Peter to pass up, and what else is he gonna do with his time before he goes out as Spider-Man?

He taps the display case as a little goodbye/thanks for the help, and then hurries down the steps towards the second floor, passing by two students on their way up. Their conversation is hushed, and neither look happy, but it comes to an abrupt stop when Peter passes by them.

?

“Hey, wait!”

Peter pauses when he hits the landing, looking back up at the older students. They had stopped midway on the steps, one of them holding chem books in his arms that threaten to spill over. He’s definitely interested in the topic, because they’re all filled with notebook papers, sticky notes that stick out the sides, and look busted to hell in the only way that an avid reader would get a book to look like.

But why are they stopping Peter? Aren’t they late for class?

“Uh, yeah?”

“W-Where’s your hall pass?”

The boy on the right scowls at the boy who asked. They both look like seniors or close to it, he thinks. The boy who asked has dark skin and a nice coat on, better than anything Peter could afford. The other is paler than what looks healthy, his black hair messy and windswept, like he’d been running late that morning. He had time to stop for coffee though; he’s holding two cups in one hand.

“Where’s yours?” Peter fires back.

“It’s right here.” The coffee guy digs into his pocket (with much difficulty) and pulls out a slip of paper. Peter raises a brow.

“That’s a coupon.”

Coffee looks at his hand, shocked at what he’s holding. He must not have expected Peter to notice. Which, he might not have, if he didn’t have enhanced vision. It’s sort of hard to tell sometimes, considering Peter used to wear glasses, and now he’s got super human eyesight. What’s the regular person eye distance? Who f*cking knows.

“That’s- it-”

“You’re late for class.” Peter decides to just walk away. He takes the steps two at a time, leaving them to… whatever is going on there. He hears one smack the other on the arm and hiss under his breath, “Hall pass? Really? Ugh, just, I’ll call…”

He gets the distinct sense that he recognized Coffee guy, but he doesn’t know from where.

Peter shakes it off- he needs to get to the library! He’d stick to the school and go through their files directly, but he doesn’t think sneaking around during office hours would be a good idea. Instead, Peter walks out of a side door when he gets off the staircase, and into the cold street.

Right now, he’s in Old Gotham district, which is sort of far away from the University District, but…. he should take that chance, right? Sure, he ran out on that Barbara lady last time he was there, but he has a feeling it’s going to be empty when he gets there. That would be ideal for him. The less people the better.

And if it’s not, he’ll just run away again.

Little Legs tickles Peter’s hand in anticipation inside his pocket, as if knowing where Peter was about to go.

-

BATCHAT

Timmy [7:42AM]: uyukid at ourt schol get hrer

Jay [7:45AM]: what?

Duuuuke [7:50AM]: we ran into Peter at the school. 95% sure he doesn’t go here so don’t know what’s up with that

Dicko [7:52]: rlly!? omw now where did he go

Duuuuke [7:55AM]: he left went downstairs rlly fast dont know where after srry gtg teacher see me phone

Dicko [7:56AM]: RIP duke and timmy

Damian [7:57AM]: I assume Drake died, but Thomas just had his phone confiscated.

Dicko [7:58AM]: thnx dami

Damian [7:59AM]: You are welcome.

-

Babs [8:22AM]: @Dicko PETER IS HERE I’M GONNA STALL

Dicko [8:24AM]: THIS KID IS EVRYWHRE （；´д｀）ゞ

-

Peter peeks inside the library entrance for a sign that someone could be near. It’s just as dark as it was before, and he can hear Barbara chilling in her office. She’s on the phone with someone, but her voice is just a little too hushed for Peter to make out distinct words.

Thinking he should make this quick, Peter jogs towards the computers. Little Legs jumps out of his palm as he sits down and wiggles the computer awake. In and out in five minutes, tops.

Eugene Thompson. Peter repeats, sometimes forgetting his name isn’t actually ‘Flash.’ He types in Gotham Prep’s website and starts skimming through the club sections until he finds Academic Decathlon.

If only Peter could tell Ned about this. He can already hear his best friend babbling away the possibilities of what he could be like here. He’d be right next to Peter, sitting halfway in the chair with him, or maybe just on Peter’s lap like Peter insists sometimes (“-because seriously, Ned, you’re light as a feather for me”), and he’d have all sorts of theories that Peter would laugh along to. “Maybe he has a mohawk, or maybe he got a bad tattoo! Even better, what if he dyed his hair an ugly color?”

Holding back a snicker, he scrolls down to see the names and pictures from the most recent addition to their site. It looks like the first one is from the debate that they just won. He scans the faces in the group picture for the familiar face, only to find himself… disappointed.

Flash isn’t there. But… His name is? Why is that? Is this a case of Same Name? Because boooo, boring.

Peter scans again, looking back and forth to figure out who’s who. That’s when his eyes land on someone who… sort of? Looks like Flash? He’s standing at the front holding his own trophy, the same one from the display case. He looks like Flash, but not really. The eyes are different, and the nose has a stronger outline, and- wait.

Why does this guy look like Mr. Thompson?

Flash’s father?

“Whoa,” Peter breathes out. He leans back in his seat, staring at the picture.

He’d only met Mr. Thompson a handful of times, because the man doesn’t often go to their school events. Which is partly why Peter cuts Flash some slack on his annoying nature. The worst Flash ever does is get too feisty with his made-up rivalry, and the rest of the time he looks like a grumpy cat. Peter can’t find it in him to be angry with someone who looks like a grumpy cat.

But he does know what Mr. Thompson looks like. He’s just a regular guy but he makes a distinct impression wherever he goes. He always looks like he’s looking down at someone through his nose. Namely, Peter, because when Tony started fostering him, the news had been split on if Peter was a dangerous foster brat or a potentially “sweet, caring boy” who gets taken care of by a brilliant billionaire superhero. Mr. Thompson always had that look about him like he despised Peter and his origins, but was regrettably impressed that Peter had gotten Tony Stark’s attention.

So… counterparts. Only, this one is a senior in high school, and is his classmate’s dad.

Huh.

But the timeline…? Peter is growing confused. The newspaper had said that it was the same year as when Peter left his universe, so wouldn’t it still be the same? Why would he be in a universe where everyone is younger than they’re supposed to be? Unless…?

…Unless what, Parker?

“I don’t know,” Peter growls at himself. This must just be a quirk of the universes that won’t be explained.

“You don’t know what?”

Peter jumps right out of his skin.

Barbara tilts her head at him. She had oh-so-quietly wheeled her way next to Peter- wheeled? Oh. Peter hadn’t seen it last time, but Barbara hadn’t been sitting in a chair, but a wheelchair behind that receptionist desk.

It’s creepy how silent she had been, and how Peter never noticed her presence. Had he been that startled by figuring out that it wasn’t Flash, or that time travel could be involved, or whatever is going on?

She smiles at Peter sweetly despite the last time she saw him, he had ran out of the door like his butt was on fire. In her lap is a stack of books that she’s trying to balance. Peter almost holds his breath, trying not to sweat in front of her. Maybe she doesn’t recognize him?

“Can I help you figure something out, Pete?”

Ah, blows!

“I, uh, was just confused about the time for the next academic decathlon meet.” Peter lies, scratching his cheek. His computer screen is very visible right now, so that’s the only lie that comes to mind. “My friend must have told me a thousand times already so I didn’t wanna ask again.”

Barbara doesn’t out him on if it’s a lie. She instead asks, “…They don’t have it listed?”

“Apparently not.” Peter quickly exits out of the tab and logs out of the session. He can tell Barbara’s eyes are glued to the screen, and it worries him that she knows what he did in order to get in the computer. She has to know by now.

He stands up, trying to get in front of Little Legs so Barbara can’t see. “Can I help you with those?”

He points at the books on her lap, fretting and dying every millisecond that passes by. Barbara was squinting at him, but when she processes his question, her face softens and she goes, “Oh! Yeah, thanks.”

She hands Peter the stack of books and he walks with her over to the reception desk, next to the check out. He sets the stack down next to the scanner, and she thanks him again. Peter is about to run off like before (because hey, it worked last time!), but her hand snatches up a plastic jar and shoves it towards his face.

“Candy?”

NO NO NO DON’T

Peter looks at the jar and his face pales, a weak smile on his lips. The little red and white candies feel like they’re laughing at him. “Uhm, no thank you, I’m allergic to peppermint.”

Barbara takes them back in surprise, and attempts to set them behind her without looking. The jar clatters to the desk and spills a couple on the floor. Peter winces at the noise it makes, as does Barbara. “That’s… unfortunate. I’ve never heard of a peppermint allergy before.”

“I get that a lot.” Peter laughs awkwardly, taking a few more steps back from the desk.

He needs to get out of here. Like, right now. The longer that he’s here, the more he feels like he’s going to get found out. Barbara, for some reason he can’t explain, has this quality about her eyes that makes him feel itchy. It’s like she’s constantly trying to figure him out, like she knows something that Peter doesn’t.

It isn’t a look that he likes to see pointed at him.

“I’ll get something different for next time you stop by.” She says, and Peter can barely hold his smile.

“You don’t- uh, have to do that.” Peter’s voice grows weak at her insistent grin. She waves him off.

“Nonsense! Hey, I notice you don’t have any books this time either.” She points out, leaning her arms on the desk. Peter nods, but he doesn’t know why. “Maybe I can help you find some? What do you like? Fantasy? Horror?”

“Uh, n-no,” Peter thinks she’s a little more insistent than last time he was here.

“Sci-fi?” She guesses with a tilt of her head.

Peter is starting to feel bad. He’s the only person that ever seems to come to this library, and Barbara really wants him to check out a book. He wants to try and find an excuse, anything to get him out of checking out a book, because he would need a library card to do that and he doesn’t have one.

But the librarian is giving him such an eager smile, waiting for his reply.

“Yeah,” Peter breaks. “I like sci-fi.”

“Awesome! I do too, it’s a lot of fun, yeah?” She prompts. Peter doesn’t have time to reply, as she presses on, “How old are you? I can’t let you check out anything over 12.”

“I’m 14!” Peter gawks at her, forgetting what’s going on for just a second. She shakes her head in surprise and looks him up and down.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah!” He insists.

“You need to drink more milk and eat your greens, kid.” She advises, and Peter sighs, dragging a hand in his hair. When is he gonna get a growth spurt? He’s so tired of looking like a baby! “Well that’s good, though! If you’re 14, you can check out of the Young Adult section!”

Peter watches her wheel around the desk, making her way over to the right. Peter’s eyes widen as he spots Little Legs at his shoe, and he swoops down to pick it up. He thought the spAIder was in his coat this whole time!

“Peter?”

He grins nervously as he gets up from the ground. She’s looking at his hands, and Peter thinks he might get sick. “I-I dropped a button.”

A button? Seriously, Parker?

“…Right. So how do you feel about space sci-fi? You a Star-Wars fan?”

“You have-” Peter stops his mouth before it can betray him. “-sssomething like Star Wars?”

He almost said “You have Star-Wars here?” Which could have been normal or weird to say. He doesn’t want to take the risk.

“Yeah, of course! Come see.”

??

His spider-sense is no help at all in this situation. It’s just as confused as he is. Is she just a really eager librarian, or is this a trap? It feels like the second situation, but what if he’s wrong? He has no evidence for the second, but he’s been wrong before.

No danger… just confusion. Confusion is always better, even if it still sucks.

She can’t be that bad, right? She’s just trying to help him get a book.

Ah, but what if Peter gets back to his world before he can return the book? Then he would really look like an ass.

But she really wants to help him! And she’s been nothing but nice to him!

He’s being impolite.

He should just take up her offer. Maybe she won’t even be mad that he hacked to computer to log in.

Maybe she already knows. If she does, she doesn’t seem mad about it.

But some people are better at hiding it-

No, Peter is overthinking it again. Barbara is really nice. She doesn’t want to hurt him.

Stop being a coward.

Peter takes all of one step before someone else enters the library. Barbara visibly relaxes when she sees him, and Peter tenses because of it. Was he wrong after all? Why would she look like that? Was she trying to keep him here?

Oh.

His first instinct is to think: CPS.

But the man who entered doesn’t look like CPS. He’s met enough social workers to get a sense of what they’re like, even if all social workers are slightly different. This man is really tall, his black hair curling at the ends and pushed out of his face. He’s in his late twenties or so, but he doesn’t look like an old guy. He has very strong, distinct features that strike Peter as familiar, but he can’t place how so. He sort of looks like someone that would get turned into a statue. A statue that would be called ‘On the Run’ or something, because he has a sweaty sheen on his tan skin as if he had ran to get here. His jacket is loose on one shoulder as though put on in a rush, half zipped up.

He looks at Barbara first, and then turns his head to look at Peter. He feels like a deer in headlights, unable to tell what his spider-senses are feeling, nor what he himself is feeling. The man smiles at him, a little out of breath as he asks, “Sorry. Did I interrupt something?”

“Not at all.” Barbara says for Peter. He lowers his eyes from the man and to her, trying to gauge her reaction.

She’s too relieved to see the stranger. This feels like it might be a trap after all.

“I was just getting Peter here some sci-fi books. Peter, this is my friend Dick Grayson.”

“Nice to meet you, Peter.” Dick holds out his hand for Peter to shake.

Peter does shake his hand, though not after hesitating to grab it. He tries to give a firm shake, but he’s wary of adult strangers in normal circ*mstances, let alone in an alternate universe.

Dick’s voice is really familiar.

??? ??? ???

“…Nice to meet you, Mr. Grayson.”

Peter takes a step back from him, and he isn’t sure if they noticed. Dick glances down as if he noticed.

“Oh, just call me Dick. No need for formal stuff.” He waves it off, and Peter nods smally. If he was in his right mind, he’d make a joke. But Peter feels itchy and like he should run. He feels like he knows this guy. Does he? But where would he have seen him before? Is he a counterpart or something? But Peter can’t recognize his face. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

Peter takes a second to think if anything to lie with.

“No.”

Dick waits for anything other than that, and when Peter just gives him an awkward smile, his brow furrows before the confusion disappears again. Barbara, on the other hand, raises a brow at Peter with no sign of covering up her train of thought.

“Uh, alright…?” Dick has no idea how to respond to that.

“My, uh, Dad checked me out. I’m actually supposed to be in the car waiting for him, so…” Peter edges towards the door.

“Wait, uh,” Dick looks like he’s thinking hard. Peter presses the handle to the door, wincing at the creaking sound it makes. “Weren’t you getting books?”

“Another time. Sorry, Miss Barbara.” Peter hurries out the door and down the steps.

weird.

Yeah, Peter agrees. That was weird.

-

“Oh my god, that was so awkward.” Dick puts his head in his hands, crumpling to crouch on the floor and feeling like a disaster idiot of a man- a fool, rather. Babs does nothing to disagree with him, which should be a comfort but it isn’t. In fact, she also puts her head in her hands, leaning over her lap as if the crushing blow had been dealt to her. Dick disagrees with that- at least Peter talked to her willingly.

“I offered him peppermint.” She sounds exhausted. “Guess who is allergic to peppermint.”

He’s what? “He’s what?”

“Yeah!”

The two of them let out twin groans of self hatred, unable to contain the embarrassment. Their plan is already feeling like a failure, and that’s not boding well.

They had made a decision right before Tim left for school: if Peter showed up, they’d try to track him down as civilians, because they wondered if the authority of them being vigilantes was scaring him into being defensive.

(Tim was the one to bring it up, mid revenge attack when he had Dick in a choke hold. Of course he’d be the first to suggest this, and Dick was under no allusion that Tim was asking permission, and was moreso just letting Dick know what was going on. But he at least tried to make it sound less like he was going to stalk Peter, and more like he was going to make a friend. )

The thing was, none of them were prepared for Peter to show up in the places that he did when they got word that he was out in the city. It was different from his usual routes: Benny’s, basketball courts, small hangouts. Public spaces where he can be seen talking to people in the neighborhood. (Though, Peter will sometimes just disappear from the sight of cameras during the day, sneaking off who-knows-where.) he had a schedule of sorts, even if it was hazy at best.

Dick did not expect the kid to be at Gotham Academy, of all places. The school that he is definitely not enrolled in?? And then Babs had seen him approaching on security cameras nearby and called Dick- just as he was almost to the school- he felt like he was lagging behind.

(And technically, he was. He had practically leapt out of bed when Jason called him to check the chat ((just so he could pass out himself, the traitor)), so he’s running on around 30 minutes of sleep.)

Because Peter definitely made no sign that he’d be willing to come back here, either. Those who were awake to read the group chat figured they would have to make excuses to show up at the places Peter usually hangs out, but then Peter just wanders into their daily schedules. And to top it all off, Dick wasn’t expecting anything to happen so soon.

It should be easier than this. At least for them. This is literally all that they do.

But now he’s confused. It’s like every time he thinks he has a read on Peter, the kid proves him wrong by swinging the other way. They all expected he’d want to open up to someone with less authority as a vigilante, a friendly face that can help him out more readily. But when Peter sees them as vigilantes, he at least has a conversation with them. When he sees them as civilians, and he runs away like they’re shooting at him and throwing Molotov co*cktails in his direction.

It reminds Dick too much of what Jason was like when he first came into their lives. The kid instinctively doesn’t trust any adult he comes across, sets up barriers miles high. It’s an issue of survival- keeping a fortress that no one can cross, protecting themselves before they can get hurt again.

Though Jason was more the fight to win type, and Peter is the type to fall back and plan a route of escape. All of it unsettles Dick immensely. Makes him feel hollow, like someone is carving out his chest and laying it all bare. Reminds him too much of his own family.

But Jason wasn’t… he wasn’t an angry kid. Nowadays, it’s just Bruce, Alfred, and Dick that remember who Jason was before the Lazarus pit made him so angry, so riddled with hurt. Jason had been a happy kid, a bright light. he was more deserving of the title of a hero than anyone else could get. He made Robin like magic, not Dick, even though Dick had been Robin first. He deserved the colors, he was a good kid- though Dick will argue to his dying breath that Jason is still a good person, despite the hell they’ve gone through. Dick had been so glad that he was getting to know Jason, the kid that was behind the walls that were built to survive.

Behind the maze of Peter’s story, Dick wonders if Peter is a happy kid too.

“We freaked him out.” Babs is convinced. “He’s never gonna come back here.”

“Maybe he will.” Dick tries, but he doesn’t believe it. Not with how flighty the kid is. “…I just don’t understand what could make him run like that.”

“Dick…” Babs winces, looking up from her hands. Dick does the same, noticing her frown growing. “He’s a foster kid. He also sort of looks like a runaway. How many times do you want to bet someone called CPS on him?”

The very idea makes him wish he could time travel and prevent it from ever happening.

He’s not a stranger to foster-care. Dick had spent months in the system in the time that it took Bruce to become registered as a foster parent, and it was… Not good. Not horrible, because back then, the foster system wasn’t so… Well, everyone knows that there are ties to human trafficking in Gotham’s foster system. Back then, it wasn’t as prominent, but now? But he was never on the streets, he only has an outside perspective on that, even if he knows a lot about it. Jason spoke about it once, what it was like living on the streets and fending for himself.

If anything, it’d be weird that Peter didn’t have some type of issue with… all of that. Dick himself became… well, he didn’t know who to trust when he was in foster-care. The grief became his everything, and it wasn’t until Bruce took him in that he had some idea of what he wanted to do with that grief, the right way. He…

For all of Bruce’s faults, he had been someone to rely on. Jason knew that too, at some point. That they would have been lost to the world, or dead way sooner, had it not been for Bruce.

The kid needs someone to rely on. Because who the hell is he relying on? Certainly not Tony!

Tony, who they can’t find. Tony who isn’t here! He hates that this Tony guy has left Peter alone in Gotham of all places. Not that leaving Peter would be acceptable anywhere else either. But Gotham??? Setting him loose like that is inexcusable, no matter what the case. He doesn’t know what Tony did that had Peter get so attached to him, so defensive of him even though he isn’t there.

He had heard from Babs the conversation that Peter had with Red Hood. And then Jason himself had spoken about it with Dick, on the phone that same night. Peter had almost gotten hurt, or died, and his first instinct was to protect Tony. Tony, before Peter. Instead of letting it sink in that he could have gotten hurt, that he was alone, he protected someone that isn’t even here. Peter was in some sort of spiral. Jason said it was like the kid had seen a ghost, that his gaze was far off and felt disconnected until he jumped to Tony’s defense. He flinched at the slightest of sounds and attempted to get small so he wouldn’t be seen. They all know what it was, because they get it too.

And then. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Dick gets a call on his way to Gotham this morning, from Bruce. About how Peter had decided to get back out into Gotham after those few days where Dick was assured he was safe inside. He had gotten involved in some kind of fight, and almost got hurt again. But this time, he was barely fazed by what happened. Bruce said he was calm, he talked the victim out of a panic attack, made her laugh and assured her she’d be okay. And his conversation with Batman?

Where was Tony that time, too? According to Peter- gone! Again!

What is going on inside that kid’s head, and how can they help him? Dick figured they at least had some sort of experience with this that would help. Peter makes that assumption look stupid as hell.

“Did you know he’s 14?” Babs asks, and Dick stares at the ground as he processes the question. The ground he wish would open up and let him lay in a grave and be dramatic until he’s in his 50’s. Because if he’s dramatic in his 50’s it’ll look too much like a mid-life crisis and Dick wants to avoid that at all costs.

“14?” That’s…

“I know.” Babs presses, looking towards the ceiling for a semblance of peace. “14. God, he looks like a baby. He is a baby, in my eyes. Now that I’m an adult I feel like I made myself grow up too fast and I look at teenagers and go, ‘that’s a little kid.’ And…”

Dick feels bad, but he accidentally tunes Babs out as she rambles. His mind is caught on baby face Peter. Peter doesn’t look 14. He looks like he’s 12, maybe, and just started growing out of his baby face. Maybe that’s right, and Peter wasn’t trying to make himself sound older, but if it is-

“He’s got to be malnourished.” Dick is starting to think that maybe the best way to get close to Peter is by working a food job. He’d spend Bruce’s money for it no problem. “Do you think I can Doordash?”

“Don’t even think about it.” Babs points at him sternly. “You’ll freak him out more.”

“But he isn’t eating properly!” Dick protests from the ground. Babs wheels towards the reception desk, looking at the tiny peppermint candies that fell to the floor. She picks up the ones that scattered on the desk, scowling at them. “He’s too skinny… He’s way too short to be 14, are you sure?”

“He was pretty upset that I assumed he was 12. Had the feeling of someone who gets that a lot and wants to be taken seriously like a grownup.”

Like a grownup… Dick runs his hands through his hair, the tie that was barely holding on for dear life falling out. Peter had to grow up way too fast, and Dick understands that so deeply. He really gets that. That’s probably why it upsets him so much to think about it, because it reminds him a little too much of himself, for some reason.

(Why can’t he get this Peter kid out of his head? Why is it that this just keeps coming back? Is it just that detective, gut instinct? Is it some intuition he doesn’t understand yet? What is it? Why does this feel bigger than it is?)

What kind of hell has this kid been through? It’s years in the making, but also so fresh that it still bleeds. Peter is walking along the edge of some dark cavern, as if ready to leap in should the moment call for it. So who is responsible for that?

Is it Tony? Or is it someone else, someone they don’t know about yet? Who could possibly let Peter get to the point he’s at now? Who was taking care of him? Who…

“Tony ‘knew he couldn’t do this again.’ That’s what he said.”

Who left this kid in the first place?

“You okay?”

Babs’ voice is quiet, not wanting to break the peace if Dick was trying to get to that point. But he’s glad she asked, because there’s no peace coming for him. His mind is spiraling in an attempt to get answers, to reason.

“He’s so small, Babs.” Dick looks up at her, seeing the hurt reflected in her eyes. “I know what it’s like to… I mean, my parents… And then seeing the person who got me out of a tough situation, who pretty much saved my life, as someone to look up to and see them from a pedestal…”

“I know.” Babs wheels closer to Dick, stopping just in front of him and reaching her hands out to his hair. She fixes it with gentle fingers, pushing it out of his eyes. “I hope he comes back.”

Dick hums in agreement. But in his head, he’s already made up his mind to find Peter even if he doesn’t.

Chapter 3: there ain't no room for selfish, we do it for the people

Chapter Text

When Ned first met Peter, he really didn’t know what he was getting into. That being said, Ned would make the same choice if he had to go back in time.

Sometimes he reads manga or web comics where the whole premise is that the main character wakes up back at the start of their life. And their lives were like, sh*tty, so obviously they always change what they can and make different decisions (sometimes worse decisions). But Ned doesn’t roll like that.

His life has been pretty okay so far (he’s trying not to jinx it) and he thinks that if that happened to him, he wouldn’t change anything if he could help it. Though he does think about the moral dilemma of knowing that something bad is going to happen and having to let it happen because he knows what comes from it and he doesn’t want to play god, or intervening because he knows it’ll cause pain and he wouldn’t be able to bear the thought.

(But also, he’d be like, a little kid?

Like, how are these characters even able to do any of what they do? They’re like, 7 years old. Doesn’t matter if they have the mind of an adult or whatever, they are not picking up those swords. Whatever, that’s not the point and he’s rambling.)

Weird and unnecessary side tangents aside, what Ned is trying to say is that he’s so glad Peter is his best friend. If there’s a universe out there where that isn’t true, then he imagines that universe is a much darker, much less happy place.

Ned stares at the dark tile beneath his feet, settled onto the couch in Stark Tower that he’s claimed every day since Peter went missing. FRIDAY will help him with his homework if he asks, but today, Ned feels like staring at the paper and just pretending that he tried.

He knows he’s probably annoying.

No, scratch that. He knows he’s definitely annoying.

If it was him who had to deal with his son’s best friend showing up every day after school to sit on his couch and ask a billion questions to everyone that passes by, he thinks he’d be pretty annoyed. If the Avengers (the f*cking Avengers) are secretly wishing he would uninvite himself from their presence, they’re doing a pretty good job of hiding that fact.

Ned just can’t help it. Ever since he first got that alert from Peter’s phone that something was wrong, he couldn’t get that nauseous and ugly anxiety to uncoil itself from around him. It felt suffocating, not knowing if Peter is okay or not. He doesn’t know what else to do with himself, if not sit on this couch and be there when something happens.

Like, what would he do? Go home?

They want him to sit on his bed instead, or at his desk, and try to do homework like a good kid whose best friend isn’t missing? But instead, he’d just keep looking at his phone, awaiting a call or a text from either Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts, or Peter himself? They want him to twiddle his stupid little thumbs and go to school like the world isn’t ending?

He can do his homework here, at the coffee table in the lounge, looking at the pictures of Peter on the wall. They had been added to the collection of photos the Avengers hung up since they first became a solid team. Right next to a picture of Peter, Mr. Stark, and Ms. Potts at Peter’s first day moving in, is a picture of Peter and Ned. Peter had texted him as soon as he put up, with an insane amount of smiley face emojis.

Ned leaves school or academic decathlon and he uses the badge Mrs. Potts gave him to go up the elevator, say hello to FRIDAY, and sit down right here. This is his post, his harbor, and he can’t help but akin himself to a lighthouse keeper. And he wouldn’t have it any other way, not until Peter is back.

When Ned would come here with Peter, they’d usually head right up to the penthouse where Tony and Pepper live. It should have been nerve wracking the first time (it was, don’t let Ned’s inner monologue fool you), but Peter made it easy to get comfortable. Instead of focusing on the fact that he was at Tony f*cking Stark’s house, and he passed Sam Wilson on their way up, all of Ned’s attention was on Peter.

Peter’s room is right next to the kitchen and has been filling itself with the Lego sets they make together, and the walls are slowly getting covered in band posters and Star Wars art. There’s something about coming over every week and seeing the evidence that Peter has taken root somewhere, and he feels comfortable doing so, that Ned enjoys.

But Ned doesn’t have a place there right now, since he’s just a guest and Peter isn’t here. That’d be weird to go sit in Peter’s room without him there, even if it is the only place he really knows in the Tower. So he instead made his base right at the heart of where the Avengers sleep and eat, because they’re bound to acknowledge his presence that way.

Not that they wouldn’t either way. Steve (because he insisted not to call him Mr. Rogers), sends him texts when there’s an update and Ned is at school or home. And while Mr. Stark is… going through it, he still gives Ned the time of day to make him eat and throw out a comment about Ned always being here.

He’s seen first hand over the past 6 months that Peter is way stronger than he looks, and he’s more resilient than anyone Ned knows. He might have been a fan of Spider-Man’s since way back when the vigilante was just rumors online, but Ned can say confidently that he’s Peter’s number one fan now.

Not Spider-Man, but Peter.

He had found out about Spider-Man after 3 months of friendship, at Peter’s 14th birthday party. Which sounds really fast, considering Peter had kept his identity so close to his heart and Ned doesn’t think he’s special enough for that. But they had met at a summer program for school, and clicked in a way that Ned had never really had before.

Like, a best friend? (He ignores the small feeling in his chest that disagrees with that word, that calls Peter something more.)

Ned has a lot of friends, but none that he could say he’d call up to complain about his Lola yelling at him for his grades, or when he wants to talk about missing his parents. Or when he has one of those days where he feels othered from people, even if they like him, and he knows that he could say it without explaining it and Peter would just get it in the way no one else does.

Peter’s his first best friend, and Ned now knows that it’s the same for Peter. At the time of the birthday party that neither of them will forget, Peter had told Ned more than he has ever told anyone, save for his therapist. And Ned, too, felt (and still feels) like he could tell Peter anything and it’d be locked away in this friendship vault forever.

Which is maybe why Peter was less troubled about Ned finding out why Tony Stark seemingly randomly decided to foster a kid one day than he was troubled about Ned learning that Peter thinks math is blue and science is red.

Though Ned will point out the best way to tell him may not have been walking on a wall and saying “So… I’m Spider-Man.” like he was just admitting that he had a tiny side hobby like collecting books or something.

So yeah. Ned knows about Spider-Man, he knows Peter’s strong. He knows that Peter has more backup than any other 14 year old in the universe. He knows that everything is going to be fine.

But still. His best friend was kidnapped in broad daylight and they have no idea where he is.

And it’s been 12 days.

And they only barely managed to hide this from the press, because somehow no one noticed the fight that happened in the sky.

And Peter can only be absent from school for so many days with a ‘cold’ before someone gets wind of this and comes to the Tower, asking why Mr. Stark lost Peter as if it was his fault. And then everything could come tumbling down because they’d decide that Peter isn’t safe with Mr. Stark, and Peter would get thrown back to the wolves- and Ned knows the plan would be them going on the run together. Mr. Stark would help them change their names and they’d go to a school in some remote country together, and Ned’s Lola would only maybe question it if Mr. Stark didn’t charm her somehow. That could work right? Because Mr. Stark has enough money to make it go away and he wouldn’t lose his best friend forever-

And Ned is maybe thinking of worst case scenarios, yeah, but he’s had a pretty bad day today and it’s only getting worse the more he thinks about how Peter could be dead and they don’t know, because that stupid guy that snatched him-

“At this point I need to put a placard on the couch dedicated to you like it’s a park bench.”

Mr. Stark heaves a sigh as he settles onto the couch next to Ned. His clothes are disheveled enough that Ned is convinced he either just woke up (it is 4:32PM) because he searched all night or he hasn’t gotten any sleep at all and was holed away in the lab. The dark eye bags are proof for both options, so Ned is stuck.

He folds his hands in his lap, unfolds them, then decides to stick with folding his hands anyway. Then he gives up and rubs a hand on his chin, turns to Ned, and says:

“You know, realistically, I could make a lightsaber if I wanted to.”

Ned stares at Mr. Stark.

“Why wouldn’t you want to?”

“Five seconds.”

Ned pauses, debating on whether to answer that or not. Every conversation he has with Mr. Stark is like figuring out a riddle or… no, it’s like waiting for a jack in the box to pop. But instead of a jump scare, he has some clever line or snarky remark waiting to be sprung on you.

“…Until Peter and I would destroy something?”

A ghost of a smile tells Ned he got it exactly right. “So you’re aware you would destroy my home if you had a lightsaber?”

“I wouldn’t feel bad about it either.” Ned admits. Mr. Stark barks out a laugh.

“I would have brought it upon myself. The same can be said about many, many, many things. Or not, because I’m sure I could throw out an NDA to anyone willing to point it out.” Mr. Stark leans back on the couch, kicking his feet up on the table.

“You tell Peter not to put his feet on the table.”

“Because of his god-awful shoes.” Mr. Stark gestures to his own feet. “These are Berluti Alessandro, and I just had them cleaned. Peter is walking on the walls and all around New York in those ratty Good Luck shoes, like the animal he is that won’t let me get him some better shoes. Also: I own the table, I say who can put their feet where.”

Ned manages a smile then, some of that nausea chipping away at him. He hates to ruin what is most likely Mr. Stark trying to distract him, because all the adults seem to think that’s the best course of action, but…

“Anything?”

Mr. Stark knew the question was coming, because he puts his hands behind his head and doesn’t really say anything for a moment. It feels like he had already been thinking on what to say before he even got here.

“It’s complicated.” Mr. Stark decides on, and before Ned can open his mouth to tell him that just because he’s 14 it doesn’t mean he can’t handle it when Mr. Stark raises a steady hand to silence him. “How much do you know so far?”

Ned squints.

“Don’t look at me like that, like I don’t know everything. I know some of us have been trying to keep you to bare minimum knowledge to not freak you out, but personally, I think that’s stupid ‘cause you’re already freaking out. I also know there’s no way you haven’t been somehow figuring out how to get more from one person individually.”

Ned does look away at that, because the guy’s spot on. While the people he does get to talk to are wary because he’s young and not a superhero like them, some of them can’t resist puppy eyes. Others, like Thor, are totally chill and have no idea Ned isn’t supposed to know some things.

“I don’t wanna brag or anything, but because I have a massive amount of perception, I’ve noticed you got this tiny habit of making connections that other people don’t. It’s why Peter likes you so much.” Mr. Stark adds when Ned doesn’t supply anything. “So, whaddya got?”

Ned chews his bottom lip unsurely. He’s kind of the opposite of Peter sometimes. Peter, as much as he looks up to adults, keeps things close to his chest, and he often pretends he doesn’t need their approval. No, not need. Peter doesn’t need anyone’s approval to continue forward. But he sure does want it. He just would rather die than tell them that. Even if it’s obvious.

Ned? The opposite.

God, he needs approval or he’ll actually rot and die.

If a teacher is mad at him? Especially one he likes? Shoot him. Put him out of his misery. Lord forbid if they’re disappointed.

Mr. Stark might not be mad or disappointed, it actually sounds like he could not care less about what Ned does and doesn’t know. But he is an adult in the form of the most adult it can get: billionaire, father, and superhero.

Like, come the f*ck on. This jerk knew Ned didn’t stand a chance. He knew Ned would fold the second he said he noticed something Ned did, and when he mentioned Peter. He’s a manipulative asshole.

(He’s really cool.)

“The guy who took Peter is enhanced,” Ned begins, and Mr. Stark doesn’t make an outward reaction other than his eyes narrowing just a bit. “We don’t know where either of them are because they haven’t shown up anywhere else. And they’re targeting you.”

Mr. Stark’s jaw clenches and he sits up, putting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands. He doesn’t look at Ned, and he doesn’t blame Mr. Stark for feeling uncomfortable.

On one hand, Ned is pissed.

He hates that this happened on their watch. Because Peter was supposed to be one of the safest kids ever- who the hell would go after a kid surrounded by Avengers? But on the other hand.

A lot of people would go after a kid that the Avengers are fond of.

From what Ned has gathered, there was a point of contact exactly three days after Peter was taken. There was only text, and they haven’t been able to find the source of where this message came from. They don’t know if it’s an organization or if it’s just two people, or just the one guy who took Peter. All they know is what the person demanded:

Tony Stark. We have Peter Parker with us. If you ever wish to see him again, you will comply with our demands without hesitation. You will reliquish control of Stark Industries, handing over all shares, assets, and intellectual property associated with the company. This includes but is not limited to:

1. Ownership of Stark Tower and all affiliated properties.
2. All patents, research, and technology developed by Stark Industries, including Iron Man suits and related technologies.
3. You will withdraw all positions of authority and influence within the business world.

Failure to comply with these demands will result in Peter Parker’s inability to return.

There was no proof of life. No picture, no hair, no- god, no finger, thankfully. Nothing to say that Peter is alive, nothing to say that he’s being hurt or not. The not knowing is the worst part. The thing is, no one will let Mr. Stark do anything.

He was ready to give it all up. He was going to, instantly. But everyone had to talk him down, because there was no proof of life, and Mr. Stark’s tech can do monstrous, evil things when in the wrong hands. It’s happened before, and it’s one of Mr. Stark’s greatest shames. Peter would never forgive him if he gave it all up and people were hurt because of it.

“Mr. Stark, you know Peter wouldn’t be mad at you, right?”

“I know.” Mr. Stark agrees, his voice low. “Doesn’t make it right.”

There’s a pause between the two of them before Mr. Stark speaks again.

“We located where that original message came from. It was at an old storage unit in Queens.” Mr. Stark says slowly. “Just down the street from where Peter grew up with his Aunt and Uncle. I don’t think it’s a coincidence. I think they knew it would get under our skins. They’re telling us that they know a lot about Peter and a lot about me.”

“They knew you’d react like this.” Ned agrees, because it’s not like it’s a secret that Mr. Stark values Peter’s privacy or his well being. When Peter was first brought into the home, Mr. Stark became the paparazzi hunter, sniffing them out like a hunting dog and putting them down no problem. Peter’s image barely gets to one news source before Tony’s lawyers drag them out into the metaphorical river bank to drown them.

It’s easy to conclude from how Mr. Stark treats Peter when a news source is able to get their hands on something that Mr. Stark cares about Peter a lot. And it’s noticeable with the absence of the news just the same.

“Do you think they know you?” Ned asks.

“I think so.” Mr. Stark looks older when he’s tired. “But because I was able to track down their first message, if we get any others, I’ll be able to work faster. I don’t know why they didn’t include a time limit, or…”

Mr. Stark sighs like he’s got one foot in the grave.

“Look, I really came here to tell you that we’re going to have to get CPS involved.”

“No!” Ned stands up from the couch and almost wobbles when the action makes him dizzy. “You know that Peter-”

“We can’t keep saying that he’s sick and faking doctor’s notes.” Mr. Stark tells Ned what he already knows. “They’re going to find out sooner or later. Let me and Pepper handle that side of things. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to Peter- Again.”

His voice sounds choked at the end and he barely managed to push through like he wasn’t going to be sick.

“I know you’re his dad and you’re a superhero and- and-”

Ned actually has no idea what he’s trying to say.

“You know Peter will just disappear if they try to take him.” Ned finally manages to get out. “What if they do? What if they say it’s your fault?”

“They might very well say that, but I’m not letting him go anywhere.” Mr. Stark is convinced, and it settles that voice in Ned’s head that was screaming that everything was going to go to sh*t. “And when CPS comes-”

“We’ll tell them I’m here, and everything is fine!”

Ned feels himself choke, and Mr. Stark freezes on the couch. The voice washes over them and then hits them again. Ned stumbles on his feet to turn towards the door they hadn’t heard open, eyes wide and breath stolen.

“They won’t suspect a thing.” Peter says, grinning at them both. Ned feels like he’s been dunked in molasses. “It’ll work itself out from there.”

Peter strides into the room, and Ned tries to make a noise but his mind is blue screening and someone took his voice away from him. Peter looks whole- he looks fine. He’s wearing clean clothes, his brown, curly hair is neat and there’s not a scratch on his face. Tears prick at Ned’s eyes when Peter walks closer, relief heavy in his voice as if he’d been looking for them. “Dad, Ned, you look like you saw a gho-”

He barely is able to regain his bearings so he can run at Peter when Mr. Stark jumps from the couch, grabs Ned’s arm, and fiercely glares at somewhere behind Peter, near the door.

“Loki.” Mr. Stark seethes, and Ned flinches at how the hiss of anger melts the moment like poison. “What the f*ck are you doing?”

“Mr. Stark?” Ned is now behind Mr. Stark, and Peter- his eyes are green- stops in front of them. He has an unnatural grin donning his face, as if he hadn’t heard Mr. Stark’s anger. There’s a brief moment where Ned tries to get closer to Peter, but then his best friend disappears in a cloud of smoke.

Oh.

Wait, no, not ‘oh.’

What?

Ned feels his heart sink to his stomach as it hopes crush under foot. Someone’s laughter echoes from the doorway. Like he’s walked out of the shadows itself, a tall man with pale skin and slicked black hair leans forward. He takes a step into the room, heels clacking on the floor, and stopping a few feet away from the couches. There’s a thin, unpleasant smile on his lips that makes Ned feel a little ill.

“Stark, I thought you would appreciate my little show.” The man, Loki, Ned thinks, has his hands behind his back, as if caught with something he shouldn’t have.

“I would appreciate if you didn’t parade around my son’s image like it’s a joke to you.” Mr. Stark is mad, and Ned feels like this is going downhill very, very fast. “Why are you here?”

Loki’s eyes flick down at Ned, and it disturbs him to see how much it looks like Loki knows him. His eyes crinkle with amusem*nt as he offers to Mr. Stark, “Why, to help you, of course. I heard you are in desperate need of an illusion.”

-

“Peter, I swear to God, if I turn around and you’re doing that freaky sh*t again, I ain’t feeding ya till you’re thirty.”

Peter immediately puts down the five pans he was balancing on his nose. One of the most important lessons he’s ever learned is “Don’t mess with the guy that makes your food.” And Benny is keeping Peter from starving, so the rule is doubled.

“I think it’s less ‘freaky’ and more ‘show stoppingly cool’, but whatever.” Peter hops onto a spinny tool next to the sink, setting down the last pan.

“I think you shouldn’t get to think.” Benny replies flatly, but Peter can see he’s secretly amused. Because for some reason, old men never wanna admit that Peter is hilarious and fun and awesome.

The old man had insisted that Peter doesn’t have to help out in the kitchen during closing, but Peter feels like it’s the least he could do for how generous Benny is being. He feeds Peter and doesn’t question the ungodly amount of food that he eats, he ignores the random appliances that Peter comes back with, and he doesn’t call CPS on him. Also, they have nice conversation. So Peter has been making sure to come back during closing time to make the process go much faster.

He just has to avoid touching anything citrus and any of the vinegar that Benny has for some of his other menu items. It’s fairly easy to do, considering Peter’s spider-senses freak the f*ck out when he gets anywhere close to them. Same thing with peppermint, tea tree, lavender, cinnamon, and cankers.

“Wow, if you’re gonna have that attitude, I’m gonna take my show on the road.” Peter jokes, sitting criss cross on the spinny chair and watching Benny do the dishes. The dishes are the last thing to do that night, and Peter is only allowed to hand Benny the dirty dishes and not wash them.

“Where you gonna go?” Benny’s lip turns up into a small smile. “Back to New York? Good.”

“I was thinking the circus. They could always use an act like me.”

“An act like you?” A raised brow makes Peter scoff.

“Oh, please, they’d be honored to have me. Not only because I’m incredibly good looking, but I’m extremely talented, and my personality is charming. I’m freaky enough that I’d be welcomed with open arms.”

“So you admit that you’re a little freak.”

“The balancing act is the least weird thing about me, Benny.” Peter admits, but much in the tone that promises trouble. “What if I told you that I don’t have bones?”

Benny pauses scrubbing one of the pans, glancing towards Peter with narrowed eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t have bones.”

“Everyone has bones, Peter.”

“I don’t.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Am I?”

There’s a bout of silence, and Benny closes his eyes. He lets out long suffering sigh, and he must decide that this isn’t worth the trouble, because when he opens his eyes again he sets down the pan in the sink. It disappears under the bubbles while Benny turns to face Peter and opens his arms wide, and says, “Alright, hit me.”

“You’ve got my number down.” Peter nods his head, impressed. Not many people understand Peter so quickly. He thinks it’s old people talent. Or, maybe, it being Gotham, Benny is used to the weird.

“Get on with it.”

Peter grins wide, already anticipating Benny’s reaction. He’s not as prepared as he thinks he is.

Benny expects Peter to get up from the spinny chair, but Peter puts his leg behind his back in one fluid motion. Immediately, Benny’s face scrunches up in displeasure, making him look five years older. “Alright, but that’s not really-”

He knew that was coming. Peter sets one hand in the middle of the spinny chair and in the same pose, lifts himself easily to do a one armed hand stand on the chair. He wiggles his fingers and manages to turn the chair around so he can face Benny, and barks out a laugh. Even upside down, Peter can see Benny has retreated back about five steps and is appalled.

“'Not really' what?”

“Where are your bones?”

“I don’t have ‘em.”

“Bullsh*t.” Benny takes a rag off his shoulder and hits Peter’s side with it. Peter chuckles and gets down, sitting back cross legged on the spinny chair, throwing out his Picture Perfect Angel Smile™️ at the old man. “That’s just gross and weird.” He says, but it’s got no heat behind it. “And be careful doin’ sh*t like that here.”

Peter’s head tilts to the side. What does that mean? He thought that Gotham was a place that embraced the weird, the wacky, and the unsure. He’s seen plenty evidence for that face: no one reacts to crime anymore, and a lot of people treat muggings with the same attitude as stepping in dogsh*t on accident. Annoying, but it won’t kill you. And with the way they talk about rouges here, one would think that the rouges were just flies that buzz around their heads.

“How come?”

Benny draws out the silence long enough that Peter thinks he just won’t be getting an answer. Something in Benny’s demeanor shifts from having fun to uncomfortable.

“Peter, how are meta’s treated in New York?”

He freezes.

It’s stupid, considering Peter was just showing off a little. But at the same time, that’s a human thing that can happen. Peter had just performed a contortionist move maybe a little too easily, but is that what tipped Benny off?

“I-I don’t know.”

Benny grunts, picking up the pan from the bubbles and resuming his scrubbing without making eye contact with Peter. “Alright, well lemme tell ya how they are treated in Gotham.”

“Does- Does this have to do with Batman’s rule?”

He keeps scrubbing, and Peter winces at the noise. “No metas in Gotham?”

“Uh huh.”

“I don’t know nothin’ bout Batman or why he has his rules. He’s stronga than me, because I woulda killed a lot of the rouges in this city a long time’o’go. But that’s why I’m not a vigilante, y’hear? I served my country and did what I could to help people, and now I’m old. That ain’t my business anymore.”

Benny is avoiding the topic. Peter doesn’t interrupt.

“‘Round here, metas are either top of the food chain, or their fodder. Treated as inferior. Forced into those meta fightin’ rings for people’s entertainment, or made into lackeys for people like the Penguin or Black Mask, the like.”

The who and the who?

Peter sits on that for a few seconds. He has about a million questions that just stacked up in his mind: What are the meta fighting rings? How do you know about them? Does everyone know about these? Does Batman? How did you know I might be a meta?

But to avoid bombarding Benny, and also because Peter knows he’s gotta remain cool about this in case Benny doesn’t know as much as Peter thinks he might, he just nods slowly, gulping nervously.

“They that common around here? I ain’t ever heard of ‘em before.”

“Haven’t, huh?” Benny seems to take this as confirmation of something. “Well, just lettin’ you know. And non-meta homeless can be picked up too. So be careful.”

Peter cracks a small smile. “You worried about me, Benny?”

“It’s a real problem.” The older man huffs in annoyance.

“…So…” Peter can sense that the conversation about the meta rings are going to go nowhere with Benny right now, so he tries to think of anything else to ask. Actually, he might have a good reason to be asking anyways- he wants to go out as Spider-Man tonight.

“Soooo?” Benny mocks.

“What is the deal with Batman and all these rogues?” Peter hands him another pan, and Benny gets to scrubbing. “Like, how come there’s so many? I read on the wiki-”

“The wiki only holds at most half of Gotham and it’s nonsense, kid.” Benny warns. “You read about Arkham Asylum, right?”

“Yeah, that most of your rogues go in and out of that place like it’s just a 30 minute timeout.”

“It’s something alright. A pain in the ass, more like it.” The men grumbles, and then Peter finds himself the victim of a long winded complaint. “New Jersey don’t got the death penalty. Now, we could make some f*ckin’ sense and put it back, ‘cause seriously, how many lives is it gonna take before we do somethin’ about it? How many kids lose their parents and how many parents lose their kids before someone makes a damn change? But nah, that ain’t comin’ anytime soon.

“Lord knows that we tried. But legislation takes years, it takes time, and it takes kickin’ the government in the ass to get anything done. And the thing is, we ain’t gonna be doin’ any ass kickin’ at the moment, ‘cause they’re keepin’ us all poor and f*cked up with chemicals and oil spills and bad infrastructure and corrupt cops. They got us where they want us, and they ain’t gonna give it up easily.”

Peter hums in reply, but Benny isn’t doing much paying attention to Peter, so much as he’s ranting about something it appears he’s been angry about for a long while.

“There’s too many people in power that benefit from the way things are for any change to get done any time soon.” Benny grits his teeth, scrubbing a pan with vigor. “And ‘cause we don’t have the death penalty, even if we managed to get the rogues into prison, they could just escape from there the same way they escape the Asylum.”

“Why don’t they go to prison? Are they all actually insane?”

“Genuinely, kid, that’s a loaded f*cking question.” Benny huffs irritably.

Peter sets his feet on the bars of his stool, watching the bubbles as they go down in the sink. “And Batman?”

Benny doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Peter turns his gaze back up towards the older man. Benny has mentioned quite a few times about his career in the military, where there’s a good chance he had taken someone’s life. Peter is conflicted on that, but not towards Benny. A lot of people go into the military wanting to believe in something, whether that be believing in the country they live in, or believing in change.

“I say it takes a strong man to look at what those folks did, and to still understand it ain’t your job to play judge, jury, or executioner.”

Peter swings his feet as he ponders this. He very well knows this rule. When Ben…

When Ben died, Peter wanted revenge. He wanted to take an eye for an eye, a life for a life. He wanted that man to own up to what he did, to be sorry for ruining Peter’s life, taking the one father figure that he’d ever known. He wanted him to grovel for the fact that it was him that had taken Ben’s future from him in mere seconds. The man had so much to do.

He had so much to say. To teach Peter. The man might have gotten away with money, but what he really robbed Peter of was his childhood, and he robbed Peter and Ben of the chance to grow together.

Ben will never get to see Peter grow up, like he had worked so hard for Peter to be able to do. When Peter graduates high school, gets his first significant other, when Peter- When Peter himself becomes a dad, maybe, someday… Ben was supposed to be there for it. Sometimes Ben would joke that Peter might not need him around by that point, but Peter couldn’t fathom that.

When would he ever stop needing Ben?

He’s been dead for four years now, and still, the wound aches and bleeds like it was yesterday. Peter still needs him now, but he won’t get him. Peter misses Ben like he missed May, like he wishes he missed his parents.

He’d been so angry, and yet he learned his lesson. The last thing that Ben taught him was that Peter had a responsibility, just like Ben had a responsibility.

“Batman is a detective or something, right?”

Peter only adds the ‘or something’ for the benefit of the doubt. But Peter has seen Batman in person before, had taken note of all of the body language that Batman had tried to conceal. he’s kept his ear out, and from this perspective that Peter has, he can see it all too well.

A lot of ‘vigilantes’ outside of the hero community, they take on the job of being some kind of omnipotent Death like being. They have their own moral codes and they run into the fray to chant what they think is right. They don’t give time for the system to do anything.

But Batman? The man took on the role of a detective in his vigilante work. He doesn’t decide who lives or dies, he just works his ass off to stop them from killing people, from doing more damage than they already did.

If the system wasn’t rigged, Gotham might actually have already seen a difference being made.

“I think so too.” Peter replies. Benny glances over at him. Whatever is on Peter’s face makes the man smile, and he reaches over with soapy hands to ruffle Peter’s hair.

“Ain’t it past your damn bedtime?”

“I don’t have a bedtime, I’m practically an adult.”

“Uh huh. Sure. Pass me that pan.”

-

Here’s the thing: now that Peter has his webshooters stocked up and the Jumping Radar is at a working prototype, he has very little reason to not go out as Spider-Man.

Okay, he might have some reasons. But those are personal; they don’t count.

Like how he’s actually kinda sorta terrified of what’ll happen if or when Batman finds out about him being a “meta.”

He’s met Batman, Red Hood, Nightwing, Red Robin and Spoiler in person. And he may not have gotten up close and talked to Signal yet, but Peter has seen him in passing. There’s been nothing to indicate a threat. And clearly, Batman has some sort of no killing rule, much the same that Peter does.

But that meta thing?

It feels like something he should still be worried about. Because like, the rule must be important, if the wiki had that information but barely anything else. They can only give vague descriptions of their suits and the timeline is more confusing than it should be, but the one thing they know for certain is the “no meta” rule.

Batman doesn’t kill, but what happens instead? Would Peter be welcomed, truly welcome, or would it go wrong? Peter is gonna be walking right into the line of fire, if he doesn’t play his cards right.

(He just prays that whatever fight he has with this guy ends up a quiet and quick affair and he never has to worry about Batman or the other vigilantes at all.)

There’s that creeping paranoia that wraps around him at all sides when he even sort of considers coming clean. It smells like antiseptic and burns like a knock off super soldier serum that almost killed him.

let me go let me go let me go

Peter isn’t willing to let anyone get close enough to experiment on him like that again. Even if they act like awkward dads and stalk him out of care for his well being.

(He knows how f*cking stupid he sounds.)

But again, those are personal reasons. And if there’s one thing Peter knows, it’s that he can’t be a hero if he’s a little chicken bitch. Hence, very little reason to not go out as Spider-Man.

He should want to help people- he does want to help people. He feels like such a waste of space when he turns the other cheek to crime these last few days. Ever since Peter became Spider-Man, his first instinct was to jump into the fray. And man, he can’t stop thinking about how useless he’d been when that woman was jumped.

Peter had been forced to go get help, to play victim, when he had every ability to jump into the fray and do it himself. If he had been back home, he could have done exactly that. Especially before Tony took him in.

When he was Parker, he wore the suit under his day clothes all the time, kept his mask stuffed in his pockets and always had his web shooters on. He wasn’t going to school so he didn’t have to worry about people figuring out that way. He could either be Parker or be Spider-Man at the drop of a mask.

That night in the alley, he was a coward. That could have cost that woman her life.

And while he had been trying not to place that burden on himself, it’s hard. He became Spider-Man out of a desperate attempt to heed Ben’s last advice to him, the day that he died. Spider-Man is a responsibility, one that Peter was granted as a gift.

The nighttime doesn’t give him a long enough break to consider anything else.

Peter had a nightmare. It started as most do. A dream, being back home.

He had been sitting on the sofa in the lounge, listening to Steve and Dr. Banner bicker about TV shows. Natasha was asleep next to him, tucked underneath a soft quilted blanket that she and Peter were sharing. He thinks that he was working on something, there was metal and wire on the table in front of him, but he can’t recall what it was exactly.

There was a snag in his project that he couldn’t work through. He was careful to not jostle the couch and wake Natasha, and the voices from the kitchen behind him pattered out as Peter walked down the hall. He felt so tired in his dream, and his throat hurt. Not like a sore throat, but like something was crushing it.

It was getting hard to breathe.

His feet were moving too slow. Every step forward was in slow motion, like his feet were glued to the floor. The hallway kept getting bigger, and he stopped to watch the doors duplicate, adding and adding and adding more doors, stretching miles wide. He tried to turn back to go home, but was met with the sight of an alley and a smoking crater.

Peter coughed and forced himself to go down the hall instead- Tony should be behind one of the doors.

But he wasn’t. No matter how many doors Peter opened, the rooms remained empty. That is, until Peter started seeing everyone but Tony.

Behind one door was Two-Face, standing in a warehouse with one half of the room in shadow from busted lights. He flipped a coin into the air, caught it, and he said, “Well it looks as though the odds aren’t in your favor.” Peter closed that door and searched another, met with the sight of Batman and the Batmobile. He reached out and held Peter’s shoulder. “You aren’t alone in this.”

Another, and Red Robin was carrying Spoiler away from him, but the alley was smeared in blood and he could hear the wind howling in his ears. Another, and Peter was in a laboratory full of smoke and one of the other missing kids on the ground, eyes unseeing. Another, and Peter was met with a bathroom full of brown locks of hair and a crying baby, screaming, red in the face for someone to help him out of there.

“Please, please don’t hurt him again! Please, someone help me! Someone help him- my Uncle- Please-“

But when Peter went to grab the kid, his hand turned to ash.

He had to get out of there. He was now checking the doors for a way to escape, ignoring Batman and Nightwing and Red Hood asking him “What’s going on?”, what they can do to help him.

Another door, and he was in the dark waiting for May to come find him.

Another door, and Ben was on the ground, trying to cover a 10 year old Peter with his body and shield him from the gunman.

Another door, and Dolores Basset was under the pool tarp.

Another door, and he was holding onto Karen’s hand even though she had already been crushed by falling debris.

Another door, and Neri was screaming for Peter to save her. He kept hearing her begging even as he ran to the next door, which was just the empty sky over the Atlantic Ocean. Endless blue and white. And for some reason, Nightwing was trying to pull him away from the room. Peter said he was sorry and he let go, because he was desperate to get out and away from the people he couldn’t save, and Nightwing’s scream was horrifying when he tried to catch Peter-

That’s when he woke up.

Peter rubs his eyes with one hand, sitting on the ceiling of his room. He’s wearing his spider-suit, but holding the mask in his other hand. The Jumping Radar is fitted to his forearm, blinking up at him with the ready screen: Start program with voice command.

It feels comforting to be in the suit, to know that his webshooters are primed and ready to start swinging. He’s gotten enough sleep, he had a good meal, he has a general idea of where to go and what to do.

Even better: Peter doesn’t feel any eyes on him, tracking what he’s doing and where he’s going and who he’s talking to. He doesn’t know if that means the Bats gave up on him, or if they’re just busy, but for Peter, it means that he has an opportunity to take.

But that nightmare is refusing to leave his mind, so Peter has to take a moment.

He’s had the nightmare before, just… not like that. Not so Gotham-y. It always goes like this: he’s somewhere safe, somewhere warm and protected, and where he didn’t feel the pressure weighing on him. And then he’s in that damn hallway, trying to get through all of the doors and find a way out.

Peter shivers.

He despises that nightmare. It’s directly a copy of the night that Peter was bitten by the spider, just that the hallway will be somewhere else every time. It circles back to mock him every time Peter takes a break from Spider-Man. All of the people he hadn’t managed to save, before and after he became Spider-Man.

It’s a hallway of his failures. Likely because every poor hero needs a reminder of their incompetence.

Seeing that woman and having to rely on someone else to help her felt so awful that Peter couldn’t really shake the fuzzy feeling in his brain. All because he hadn’t put on the costume, all because he was a coward and had to run to someone else for help, that woman could have died.

That’s the ‘what if’ that really matters to Peter. What if there’s another family torn apart because he wasn’t there? What if some other kid loses his parents before he even gets to know them? What if Peter can’t be strong enough, can’t carry the responsibility he has to help people? What if he can’t do that right, and Ben will have died teaching Peter a lesson that was useless, in the end, all because Peter was a useless kid?

“Alright, kid, let’s have a chat.” Peter puts his hands on his knees, closing his eyes. If the voice he’s pulling is like Tony’s, f*ck off, he’s stressing.

“You had a rough night, don’t let it freak you out. So what if you think you wouldn’t be able to keep up with Gotham, or a some crazy mutant or enhanced guy who tried to kill you, or some dumb Batman or his dumb list of Robins? And who cares that you were already questioning what you want Spider-Man to be before you got sucked into an alternate dimension, and now you feel like you’re going to make a monumental mistake, because you’re a dumb kid who makes mistakes all the time-”

Okay, maybe this pep talk isn’t working. He should reroute.

“Ugh, um…”

Peter is at a loss for words. Where does he start?

“…We all go through periods where we aren’t living up to our own stupid expectations, it’s annoying, but that’s life.” Peter remembers Pepper telling him that once. They’d been sitting outside of a conference room, sitting side by side on a bench. Peter had just taken the test to get into Midtown, and he didn’t know if he was up to being the kid that all of these adults wanted him to be.

Pepper had held his hand and told him about the times that she felt inadequate. Where she wondered if she’d ever really live up to her own idea of what she wanted.

“We… all have moments where we think we won’t be able to reach the goals we have. But that’s when it’s the most important to step up and keep your focus.”

He feels his shoulders relax. The unsettled feeling is still there. There have been many, many times where Peter has failed. But he became Spider-Man for a reason, and that reason was to help people. But… He’s never done this before.

That’s the biggest reason he’s so hesitant.

Spider-Man doesn’t have an arch nemesis. He doesn’t think any of the people that he fights count as one. Leap Frog, Armadillo? They’re villains of the week at best, and like, to be honest, Peter has actually scheduled fights with them before.

It’s true. They know he’s young, and they’ve never really wanted to do more than cause chaos. Maybe it’s because he isn’t the police? Whatever their reasons, Peter has always had a sort of camaraderie with his villains that both surprise and bemuse his mentors. He’s mentioned before that his hardest enemy to fight is Black Cat, and they also have some sort of frenemy thing going on.

He’s never had a fight like this, where the stakes are raised so high. A fight that feels too big on his shoulders… Unless he counts the man that killed Ben.

But even then, that was a normal guy. Peter’s experience with other enhanced people are the Avengers. They’ve trained him, they’ve built him up, they try to make him think ahead. They have handed him a lot of the tools of the trade, and he… Never considered that he’d actually use them some day.

Isn’t that terrifying?

Some part of Peter must have felt like there would never be a day where he’d have to use the skills he’s learned from his mentors to fight someone who is aiming to kill him, and has all of the ability to do that.

Ghost hands crush at Peter’s neck. He thinks of the wind in his ears, the blue sky and white clouds. How he thought this is it.

He also looks at the nanobracelet on his wrist. Tony’s work, the proof that he went running the second Peter needed him.

And then, the most important piece of advice he’d ever gotten slips out with a breath.

“That’s all it is, Peter.” He remembers someone reaching out their arms. Their face has long since blurred, unable to stick around because of the lack of photos. But he knows they were strong, and they would catch him when he jumped.

-

Whoa.

His breath catches in his throat. His feet toe the edge of the building- literally. He’s so close to stepping off, that he can feel the edge of the roof under his shoes. His hair is ruffled by the wind that whips around him, teetering him closer to the edge. The city lights blink up at him, all of them a sign of an individual life.

He’s scared. His heart feels like it’s stuck in his throat, and his stomach is not agreeing with his choice. Why’d he have to pick such a tall building for this? Shouldn’t he start smaller? Safer? Or, as safe as it can be?

No, it had to be like this. He can’t chicken out now, he’s done all of the testing he can while on the ground. Why is he trying to talk himself out of this?

Maybe because the ground looks so, so far away, and Peter feels really small. Really vulnerable. Maybe because his parents died from a fall, so why is he trying to tempt fate? Is he suicidal or just stupid? He doesn’t have the answer to that one.

Or maybe he does. There’s a large part of him that’s screaming that he’s being stupid, that he needs to stop trying to play hero. Who does he think he is, wearing a mask over his face and a hoodie he slapped a spider-symbol on with sharpie? Does he think he’s Tony Stark, or Captain America? That he’s some invulnerable super soldier or a genius inventor?

He’s just a dumb kid.

Peter closes his eyes, fighting back the urge to step away from the edge.

And in his mind, he replays the only videos they had on VCR. He watched them so often as a kid, before they were lost in the Battle of Manhattan, that the videos were burned into his minds eye much the same as they had burned onto that old TV. His grandparents had been gymnasts and trapeze artists, and Peter had been a kid with asthma and glasses itching to try and fly like they did.

They never seemed scared. They stood above it all, waving down with genuine smiles on their faces. May used to pinch his cheek and say, “Dimples run on your Dad’s side!” They made the art look easy, look accomplishable, even though Peter knew it was so difficult. That’s why they were the best in the world, before they died.

There was an interview in the box of tapes, that Peter would play when he wanted to pretend his grandpa’s voice was his dad’s. In that tape, the interviewer asked them how they could be so confident in their ability. What did it take to trust someone so well, to know they’d catch you?

Peter opens his eyes again. He steps off the edge, and he learns to fly.

-

“It’s a leap of faith.”

Why the hell is he letting his inexperience take over his confidence? He wants to go home, he wants to be far away from this, and he can not just sit on his ass anymore. He can’t wait for someone to come do the hard part for him. Who f*cking cares that Peter isn’t ready for this?

None of his mentors were ready. No one is, when the time comes to step up. This villain didn’t care that Peter wasn’t ready for this, but that’s on par for the course, isn’t it? Peter has always been used to life beating him down, one swing after the other. Life doesn’t let you get back up sometimes. And when that happens, Peter’s found that fighting dirty and pulling the fight down with him works wonders.

It’s time to take matters into his own hands. He can do this.

He can do this.

Peter puts on his mask and he climbs out of his window. There’s a crackle of lightning overhead. He feels the pull of his stomach as he lets himself free fall for the first few seconds, and then he swings out into the street, determination coursing through him.

-

It takes him some time to get used to swinging again before making himself get out there, out there. He jumps between buildings, memorizing the hold on different Gotham architecture, what feels more solid and what would crumble under his hand. He listens to the city breathe, he grows comfortable among her shadows and among her whispers.

He feels stupid for being so hesitant to get back out there.

The nightmare is all but gone from his mind as he leaps 20 feet through the air, the sprinkle of rain accompanying his dance. Being in his suit after all that time out of it? Peter feels free. Free enough to spread his wings, free enough to breathe. This is what he’s been missing in this equation: he wasn’t exactly Parker, but he didn’t really feel like Peter either. But there’s someone in between the two identities of his that has always been the bridge of that gap, that connects them to each other: Spider-Man.

When he’s Spider-Man, he isn’t Peter or Parker. He’s someone else- he can be someone braver, tougher, and smarter. He can be someone kinder. He becomes someone who can’t get angry, someone who can help people and it make a difference in their lives. So that there’s no more doors with no more failures, no more people he let down.

Spider-Man is what Peter and Parker could never be. Peter died with Spider-Man, and Spider-Man gave Parker the means to become who he is.

He missed this. It’s only been ten days but it feels like a life time to him.

Peter holds his arms out in the free fall, feeling that leap in his stomach as he gets closer to the ground. When he latches his webbing onto a building nearby, he flicks his wrist down and uses the momentum to flip in the air. A laugh lets loose above the traffic and a few heads tilt up to try and find him, but he’s already gone.

The ability to be free, able to almost fly. But it wouldn’t be fun just to fly- he likes the feeling of jumping, of spinning, of twirling in the air. When feet hit wall and the world tips sideways, he’s at his most comfortable. He craves the itch of it, wants to get out and show off, like his grandparents got to do.

But he holds himself back. It isn’t a show, no, and he’s not going to be reckless. Right now, he has something important to do. And that’s catching that villain that brought him here.

He runs along the side of an office building, getting used to sticky feet on Gotham’s differing style- it’s not like New York, but he can get the hang of it. He had refrained from walking on walls and ceilings when he was Peter just in case eyes had fallen on him again and he didn’t sense it. But as Spider-Man, he can chuckle when someone points up at him to show their friends what they’re seeing.

Peter missed that, too. New Yorkers seeing him in person for the first time, and then eventually hearing that he was a tourist attraction in a way. People wanted to spot him flying and jumping around buildings, and sometimes Peter couldn’t help but get fancy with it. The exclamations when they’d finally spot him, the excitement when he got close.

(He doesn’t miss paparazzi or being famous or anything, that was never fun and he often avoided it. But he misses New York, he misses Queens, with people who recognize him.)

Peter keeps his eyes out for signs, a voice he knows, or the beeping of the Jumping Radar on his arm. He can’t exactly feel the tugging of his spider-sense, but he also is starting to think that this villain isn’t hanging out near the Upper East Side, where Peter has been living. He had seen the man in the Diamond District, trying to get inside Wayne Industries. If Peter were a villain who just got dissed by a billionaire, he would head there at night to get inside and steal what he wanted so badly.

So Peter starts in that direction, swinging towards the bridge when his spider senses go off.

!!! watch out !!!

In the street below him, a young woman is holding out her gun in a stand-off with an older man. The two of them are arguing with each other, the man gesturing wildly with the gun and the woman flinching each time. At the woman’s hip, a young girl is hiding in her skirts.

Just like-

Spider-Man cuts off that little voice in his head. He thwips the webs in their direction, grabbing both of the guns and flinging them up into the air. The woman screams when her gun is yanked upwards, and she takes several steps back to hunch over her daughter. Peter webs the guns onto the side of the building as all three gawk up at him in shock, jaws slack and fear flashing in their eyes.

“Hate to break it to you, but there is enough room in town for the both of you.” He lands on soft feet and walks down the side of the building towards them.

The man’s face goes deathly pale. Spider-Man opens his mouth to ask what the problem is, but the man turns on his feet and sprints off in the opposite direction down the street as if his life depends on it. The woman breathes out a huge sigh of relief, grabbing onto her daughter and tugging her close. But when she spots Spider-Man, her guard goes up just as fast as it had fallen. She takes another few steps back from him.

“Don’t worry!” He brings his voice to a softer tone, just like Uncle Ben taught him when being polite. He also raises his hands so she can see there’s nothing in them. “I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m Spider-Man.”

“Spider-Man?” She repeats her eyes drag over him warily, still hiding her kid from view. However, there’s little success in that, because the young girl is trying to see Spider-Man from around the skirt.

Her eyes widen when Spider-Man waves at her, and one tiny hand lets go of skirt so she can wave back at him. The woman moves her daughter’s head back out of view, her voice sharp and filled with uncertainty.

“A-Are you new? I’ve never heard of you.”

“You can say that.” He shrugs, jumping down to be on street level with her. Her eyes fall down to Peter’s height as if she expected him to be taller. “I’m new here.”

“…Are you a Robin?” She asks, looking him up and down again. Likely to see if he has a bat or a bird symbol on him somewhere. Nope- just the spider on his chest. Hopefully, that doesn’t make him lose any points.

“Nah, I’m not. But we’re on the same side. Ish.” He makes a so-so motion. “Is it okay if I walk you guys back home? It’s dark out, and you know, people have guns.”

He points being him at the wall, where her gun sticks out of the webbing. The woman’s mouth presses into a thin line of discontent, and she blurts out: “It’s just for self-defense.”

“I know.”

She repeats in a sterner tone, “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“…I know.” Peter says a little softer. The young girl has peeked her head back out again, wonder in her eyes and her jaw dropped when she sees the guns on the wall. “There are people you gotta protect. Trust me, I get it.”

The woman is close to tears, and she grips the girl’s shoulders in an effort to still her shaking hands. The girl leans into her mother’s leg, but is watching Peter in unwavering interest. The type of focus that a kid only gets when they aren’t supposed to.

“Mamă?” The little girl whispers, and her mother smiles at her thinly, still shaken up. Her eyes drift back towards the guns, and Peter does as well.

“Can I get…?”

It leaves a sour taste in his mouth, because Peter really hates guns. But he certainly doesn’t think he should leave them there. and he’s not exactly able to tell her she can’t have her own gun, even if Peter hates it. If she wants her gun back, she wants it back. Now, if it was Queens, he’d let the police handle that. But he doesn’t want to do that in Gotham of all places. Police are already corrupt, but it’s even worse here.

He takes both down from the wall, handing her back her own with the safety on. He crushes the other one in his hand, the metal bending like play dough. The young girl’s eyes widen, and she points at Peter with a gleeful shout. “Dikh, Mamă! Kon si but zuralo!”

The woman stares at Peter’s hand, her face a little pale from the show of strength. Oops. Her eyes follow Peter as he walks towards the trashcan nearby, dumping the crumpled gun away. He imagines that when he looks back, she’ll be in the middle of running off, or she’ll still be wary.

Instead, he turns around and she’s putting her gun away, securely hidden in her jacket. She smiles down at her daughter, then crouches in front of her. “Yes, he is very strong. He’s going to walk us home, isn’t that nice of Spider-Man?”

She gestures for Peter to come closer, and he does. He squats down in front of the little girl, shaking her hand. The girl’s eyes are full of stars, and her grip is surprisingly strong. Peter smiles underneath the mask, patting her hand gently.

“Introduce yourself, Scumpete.” The woman gently prods the young girl. The girl looks between him and her mother, then back to Peter.

“I am Analetta!” The young girl shouts, showing off a bright smile with two missing teeth. She gleams with confidence, as if she’d practiced introducing herself before. “Nice to meet you! Spider-Man!”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Analetta.” Peter holds back a laugh, trying to sound majorly impressed. “You’ve got a nice handshake!”

Analetta beams. Her mother stands back up. Peter notes the tension has released from her shoulders, though she always keeps her eyes on the road around them, on alert. She doesn’t sound like she’s from Gotham, but she acts like she’s lived here a while. “I’m Florence. Thank you, Spider-Man, for helping us out.”

“Carry?” Analetta interrupts, reaching her hands up towards Peter.

“Analetta, no, Spider-Man doesn’t want to carry you.”

“He’s strong!” Analetta points out. She’s far from wrong.

“Piggy back rides are my specialty.” Peter states. He glances up at Florence. “If mom says it’s okay.”

“Yes, she does!” Analetta doesn’t give her mother time to agree. She runs around and jumps onto Peter’s back, giggling when she settles in for the ride. Peter stands back up, ignoring how tight her arms are around his neck. He’s given enough piggy back rides to neighborhood kids and old foster siblings to be used to getting strangled, he supposes.

“See, Mamă?” She says, peeking at her mother from around Peter’s head. “Strong!”

“I know.” Florence grins thinly, pale like she’s a few minutes away from passing out from exhaustion. A hand reaches up to her temple, and Peter decides it’d be better to get them home now rather than later.

“Where we headed, ma’am?”

“Corner of Baker and Rose.” Florence starts their walk, but she sticks nearby to keep an eye on Analetta. She doesn’t trust Peter with Analetta completely, and that’s a smart decision. Not because Peter is going to snatch a kid any time soon, but because if she wasn’t concerned about a strange meta boy who may or may not be with the Bats potentially stealing her kid, Peter would be weirded out.

Analetta is the first to break the silence. She leans to ask loudly in Peter’s ear, “How come strong?”

“I’m a meta.” Peter doesn’t flinch at how loud she is, but it’s a near thing. Florence’s feet falter, but she continues as though she hadn’t hesitated. What’s that about?

“Meta?” Analetta repeats curiously. “Like Signal?”

“Yeah, like he is.” Though Peter doubts if that’s really the case. Maybe he should be doing more research on what a meta is. He hadn’t thought to look that up. Peter is classified as a mutant because of how he got his powers, are metas the same thing?

Analetta hums in thought. “Hero?”

“Yeah, I try.” Peter can sense Florence’s gaze turning back on him.

…curious

“How come spider?”

“‘Cause I’m a spider.” Peter replies, and he hears Analetta make a noise of discontent that she tries to hide. Peter grins, though she can’t see it under her mask. “Are you scared of spiders?”

Analetta pauses, but then she states proudly, “No, I am not!”

“Yes you are.” Florence raises a brow at her daughter. “You’re terrified of them.”

“Spider-Man is a spider.” Analetta states as if this makes sense. “I’m not scared anymore.”

“It’s okay to be scared of spiders.” Peter tells her. Analetta sets her chin on his shoulder, fully relaxed in his hold. Besides the death grip she’s got on his throat, but still. Peter wonders what it is about him that kids seem to inherently trust.

“I was scared of spiders too, for a while. They’re a little creepy looking, aren’t they?” Peter admits to her. Analetta mulls this over.

“Yes.” She agrees. “Don’t like their legs. Too many. They don’t need them.”

“If it helps, most spiders want nothing to do with humans.” He says as they turn the corner. Peter keeps his spider-senses on alert for nearby danger, but there’s only the distant humming that tells him everything is Gotham-normal danger. “They’ll leave you alone if you leave them alone. They can’t really hurt you.”

“Really?”

“Yep. And if a big, scary spider tries to bother you, just come find me.” Peter tells her. Florence huffs under her breath as if the notion is ridiculous. And it might be, because he can’t be there all the time. But maybe he can get a burner phone and give people that number? He’ll remember Florence’s address and bring her the number when he gets that set up. “I’ll come and tell it not to bother you.”

“You talk to spiders?”

“All the time.”

“Because you’re a spider?”

“Yeap.” He nods.

He expects the next question to be, “What do spiders talk about?” like all young children ask. But Analetta is ahead of the curve. No, she asks what every adult at some point has either asked in horror, curiosity, or has joked about:

“Do you have butt webs?”

“No.”

“Bummer.”

“Ah, well, not in my opinion.” Peter is glad for the mask, because his face flushes bright red when Florence barks out a laugh. “And also, has nothing to do with bums.”

The walk towards Baker and Rose is a long one, filled with question after question from Analetta. However, with each question, the girl’s eyes droop more and more, and she yawns through half of them. She sets her cheek on Peter’s shoulder, and eventually her voice putters out into tiny snores.

Florence ignores the button to cross the street, simply striding through the crosswalk. She tucks back for a second to brush Analetta’s hair back from her face with a smile. “It usually takes three hours of a lot of convincing to get her to fall asleep. Is that a superpower of yours?”

“Maybe, but it’s probably unrelated to the spider thing.” Peter has always been good with kids, so this doesn’t surprise him.

“You have siblings?” She puts her hands in her pockets, glancing towards the sky.

“Foster siblings.” Peter smiles warmly at the thought of a few of them.

In his very first placement- the one that wanted to adopt him, Karen and Devon- there was his older brother Chandler. Peter had been ten years old and Chandler was sixteen, but he never treated Peter like a nuisance of a little kid. In fact, it had been Chandler who had taught Peter ASL. Chandler had lost his hearing when he was young, and Peter had periods of time where he couldn’t talk at all.

Neri was his foster sister that Peter grew very attached to, much like she had grown attached to him. She was younger than him, and she didn’t mind the periods where Peter just couldn’t bring himself to talk.

They had both…

Though for the most part, Peter’s foster siblings were good to him, there were a couple houses with older kids that weren’t as kind. There was one where he had his arm broken and he gained a concussion, and another where they pulled a lot of mean “pranks” on him that made him not want to go to school.

Like one where they put gum in his hair, and considering the texture of his hair (wavy, but with a few parts that seem like they might be curls if he cared about his hair), his foster parent at the time just took him to the barber and they cut it extremely short, almost buzzed. He felt naked for weeks.

Florence nods in understanding. “She’s going to bother me for weeks about when you can next come visit. She did that for Robin a few months ago.”

“I can swing by.” Peter assures, already thinking to add it to his list of to-do’s.

“You’re a vigilante, Spider-Man. I’m sure you have much more important things to do than come visit us.” Florence purrs with amusem*nt.

“I might be a vigilante, but I enjoy this side of it more. Knowing people, and being able to help them out with anything. Besides, your family is important.”

The corners of Florence’s eyes crinkle when she smiles warmly at him. She almost reaches her hand out to touch Peter’s head, but he hesitates and drops it to stroke her daughter’s hair. Her smile grows sad, and she looks in front of her as they walk. “You sound mature, but you’re a kid, aren’t you? Like Robin is. Like they all were.”

Peter recalls reading the timelines and the wiki’s general idea of where they might come from. Not much is known about their specific ages, but telling from the time and the descriptions, ‘Robin’ has been multiple people- all of them kids or teenagers, like Peter.

He supposes from an adult perspective that should be worrying. But from Peter’s… He himself is a teenage vigilante. And he doesn’t know Batman’s perspective on that. He could be raising a child army or something, but honestly, it might just track that Batman found these kids who were doing dangerous sh*t and decided to train them because he knew they weren’t gonna stop.

That’s what Tony did, after all. Why else would Peter be allowed to go out as Spider-Man still? He knows that Peter would just f*ck off and find a different way to do that, and it’d take throwing him in a facility to stop him. And even then, Peter would get out.

(He always finds a way.)

“You don’t like that?”

“No, not at all.” Florence admits without hesitation, actually breathing a sigh of relief that Peter asked and she didn’t have to bring it up first. “You should be doing kid things, you should be sleeping at night instead of risking your life.”

They’ve come across a line of apartment buildings now, and there’s small signs that this area is full of people with kids- bikes heavily chained together and connected to a series of different fences. Hopscotch games on the sidewalk, drawings of vigilantes and the sun, clouds, ducks and cakes all in brightly colored chalk.

And then they stop at a pink house, with lights on inside. There’s people milling around the house, mostly women. A young boy presses his face against the glass, nose smushed and his breath fogging the glass, and his eyes go wide when he spots Peter.

“Mama, come look!” The boy is saying. Peter passes Analetta off to her mother, holding her head in a gentle manner so she doesn’t get jostled awake. Analetta buries her face into her mother’s neck, and Florence cradles her close, her eyes on Peter.

“I wouldn’t change what I do for anything.” Peter hopes she can hear his smile, his determination, even through the voice modulator. “Someone I love taught me once that we all have a responsibility to help each other. I was given a gift, I can’t waste that.”

Florence hums in thought, glancing up at her house with her nosy family members peeking through the window. They wave at her, pointing at Spider-Man and asking Who’s that? What’s going on? Is that a Robin?

Peter is torn on that- on one hand, he doesn’t want to and shouldn’t go around telling people that he’s a Robin. Because he’s not, and not only is it lying, it’s not who Peter is. On the other, Florence trusted him because she thought he was connected to Batman and his Robins.

“You should come visit.” Florence decides, looking back at Peter. “We’d love to have you, Spider-Man.”

His chest surges with victory and happiness. This is what Spider-Man is. He’s the one that shows up at the house to make sure you’re doing okay, he’s the one that does all the heavy lifting for everyone, the one that helps with flower pots and plays with the little kids, knows their names, so that if they ever need him, he can be there.

“I’d love to, ma’am.” He waves at the window. A couple of them wave back, and the little boy grabs his mother to point out what they all saw him do.

Florence waves goodbye and she enters the house, immediately bombarded by the cacophony of family members wanting to know what was going on. The noise grows muffled when the door shuts, and Peter settles with a sense of belonging.

Gotham deserves that difference, that change, that the vigilantes are trying to make.

Peter claps his hands together, turning on his heel and facing the street. Everything is fine here now, so it’s time for Peter to start looking for another set of people to help. Maybe he should go check out closer to Robinson Park, or the University District? There’s bound to be drunk college teens in need of a spider friend to get them ho-

The screeching of tires cuts off that thought. LOOK IT! screams his spider sense, but he doesn’t need it to tell him f*cking anything, because if he somehow managed to miss the bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle careen towards the light pole on front of the apartments, he’d make an eye appointment.

He puts his hands on his hips, watching a group of seven teens (how did they even fit in there?) tumble out one by one, phones in hand and already freaking out.

“At least my first night out as Spider-Man isn’t lame and boring.” Peter tells himself, then he jogs over to the scene, where the driver is folding herself over the hood of the car and crying. “Hey, folks! Did you know this is a no parking zone?”

-

Something is off with Gotham tonight.

…Listen, Tim has been running around Gotham since he was 9 goddamn years old. And not because he was Robin at the time- no, he wasn’t like Dick, he didn’t put on the cape officially until he was 13 and desperate to prove he was a useful kid.

(He’ll unpack that trauma on his deathbed, now is not the time.)

He was 9 years old and stalking Batman and Robin with stars in his eyes, but he was dead clever, not a spacey child caught in a daydream. He had to keep his wits about him if he wanted to survive each night. The second he got stuck in his head and stopped paying attention, he would either get mugged, or kidnapped, or, in reality, nearly fall off of a building. He got to know Gotham like he knows his camera settings: familiar, muscle memory, beloved.

Gotham is crazy in the way that it reminds Tim of a grandmother who definitely killed your grandfather a thousands years ago but no one talks about it because your grandfather was the Worst Person Alive and she was just reclaiming her life from his meaty, fugly hands. And she got away with it too, so what’s the point of bringing it up all the time? She’s the matriarch of the family and she loves you despite all of the various mental illnesses that was passed along oh-so-lovingly in the family bloodline.

Point being: Tim knows her, and she knows him because he’s her deeply disturbed and needy grandchild, and Gotham is home. So of course he has a sixth sense for when something is Off.

He can’t quite put it together though. Because Gotham is at it’s typical, all night. He caught someone littering and told them off, he talked someone out of using cocaine before swimming, he stopped a few muggings, he busted a guy’s nose for taking a swing at his teenager while he was piss drunk. And now Jason is knocking the heads together of a group of guys who thought they could harass the working girls without consequences.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

So why does it feel like something is happening, and he can’t figure it out?

“Earth to Red Robin,” Babs chimes in his ear. “Got something on your mind?”

“Huh? No, not really. Just… something in the air, I guess.” Tim squints at the skyline, waiting for Jason to hurry up so they can move on. They’re supposed to be keeping their eyes out for signs of Firefly, but duty has called a few times and they’re stuck taking care of things like this.

“Uh oh, you got a feeling?” Tim can tell she’s paused her typing.

Ugh, Tim hates when they think of his logic and thinking as a ‘gut feeling.’ He’s just putting together clues, that’s what all gut feelings are- the subconscious mulling over and processing what is known, and forming ideas before comprehending the thought.

But that’s a fight for another time.

“…A little.”

“Is it Firefly? You think he’s gonna get up to something tonight?”

“…I don’t think so? It’s just one of those things.” Tim sighs, leaning back on the roof and swinging his feet. “I don’t have any evidence to back it up.”

“Back what up?” Babs replies, sounding exhausted despite it only being 11PM. “Gonna fill me in on what’s twisting your ear?”

Tim hums, taking a moment to think it over. He doesn’t even know what it is that has him on edge. No, not even ‘on edge’, that doesn’t sound like what he’s got going on. More like something is going on, something shifted.

“Gotham feels like it’s to the left.”

“…To the left…” Babs clicks her teeth. “Gonna be honest with you double-R, I have no idea what the hell you’re on about.”

“Neither do I. That’s why I said it’s not anything big.”

Though, Tim does observe the streets once more. Jason is talking with some of the working girls, probably letting the new girl down there know of the one clinic nearby that is trustworthy. There’s not a lot of traffic tonight, even though it’s a Friday in October, when all the college kids get in the last of their partying before Finals and Winter Break.

Actually, maybe that’s what it is…

It’s quiet. On a Friday. In Gotham.

“Huh.”

“You figured something out.” Babs groans, as if it’s Tim’s fault that he’s usually right.

“Can’t say it out loud.”

Jason grapples up to the roof, lifting himself up with one hand to join Tim on the ledge. He taps the side of his helmet to listen to comms, shaking his head when he hears Babs’ groan of immediate understanding. “sh*t, it is, isn’t it?”

“What is what?” Jason turns to Tim for an explanation.

Tim smiles thinly. “Can’t say it out loud.”

Jason cusses.

The ‘curse’ that every one of them believes in but most of them will not admit to: Never, ever, not in a million years, say that it’s a ‘quiet night.’ At least, not out loud. Because that is asking for the ground to crack open and let loose all of hell onto Gotham for at least a week.

“We can ignore it.” Jason comments, looking out on the city as if he could find something to blame. “It’s not happening if we don’t pay attention.”

“You know what? You’re right. It doesn’t exist if we aren’t looking at it.”

“Exactly, Baby Bird.” Jason claps his shoulder, and they nod in understanding.

“You’re both going to eat your words. That’s my gut feeling.” Babs states dryly, and Tim can imagine she’s wheeling herself towards her coffee maker in preparation.

“Well, excuse us if we try not to live every day paranoid, Oracle.” Jason replies snottily. There’s silence from both Tim and Babs for a few debilitating seconds, but everything is being said anyway. Tim raises an eyebrow at Jason, who runs a hand down his face (his helmet), and he points at Tim. “Maybe don’t remind me of this family, dude.”

Tim just purses his lips in reply. He doesn’t have to tell Jason Todd that everyone in the family is majorly paranoid and levels of insane that should be tested. They’ll just continue to blame B for that silently in their heads, like most of everything that they do.

“Crap.” They hear Babs breathe out, and a second later, Bruce’s voice filters through the comms as well.

“Oracle, did you just get that?”

“I did, I did. Already pulling up security in that area.”

“What? What happened?” Tim wishes for the universe to give them one night that is quiet and stays that way.

“B and Robin just visited Commissioner Gordon. He showed them a sticky note that was left at the sight of a reckless driving case on the corner of Baker and Rose, and then another that was left with a mugger. All if has on it is a… drawing?”

Babs lets out a laugh, and B grows annoyed. “Oracle.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s kinda cute! It’s really hastily drawn doodles of the people that were involved, and signed with a doodle of a spider.” Babs tells them, still chuckling under her breath. “It’s a cute way to leave a report for the police without being there.”

“There’s someone in Gotham acting as a vigilante without our knowledge.” B is not happy about this. Tim stands up, already anticipating Batman’s next sentence. “Red Robin, the sighting was in the Upper East Side. Go to Baker and Rose and gather witness reports. Everyone needs to keep an eye out for this individual.”

“Not it.” Jason pushes himself backwards and stands up, heading the opposite direction. “I got my own sh*t to catch up on.”

“Swinging by Peter’s?” Tim asks, and Jason scoffs.

“I have a lot of things to do other than stalk a 12 year old, dude.”

“He said he was 14.”

“That doesn’t make it any better. You know that, right?” Jason stops to look at him with all the sass of a former theater kid. f*ckhead. Tim could end his whole career if he pointed that out.

“…But you’re gonna swing by Peter’s.”

“Maybe, if I have time.” Jason shakes his head. “You’re headed that way right now, you go do it.”

“I just got a different case.” Tim reminds him. Because they both know once Tim focuses on this vigilante, he’ll put anything else on the back burner until he’s at least got something of worth to report back about.

Jason groans loudly, waving his hands animatedly. “Fine, fine,” He has the nerve to act like Tim is twisting his leg despite the fact that he’s obviously going to go check on Peter if no one else is able to do it. “I’ll go check on the brat. But I ain’t lyin’, I got some other sh*t to attend to.”

He’s off before Tim could point out that the ‘other sh*t’ would just be the same thing he’d be doing with Peter- checking up on some kids who need help and a safe place to sleep, or get something to eat. Tim makes his way off of the roof, grappling out of the Bowery, trying to recall any other cases with a spider-theme he might have missed.

-

Bruce would really, sincerely, appreciate if children would stop becoming vigilantes.

He’s heard comments from his peers and jokes (and threats, mostly from Jason) from his kids, and more than a few people online like to point at it without the context and go, “Batman employs child soldiers.”

But he knows too damn well that these children, that everyone seems to think Bruce is picking up for the hell of it, would surely get themselves killed if Bruce wasn’t taking them in and mentoring them. Dick was his first lesson in that case. He just wanted to bring the boy home and help him get justice for his parents, only to realize quickly that Dick would become just like Bruce if he didn’t do something soon.

Barbara… he failed her in so, so many ways. He doesn’t understand how she could ever make her way towards forgiving him, trusting him. He saw her as foolish, as untrained, as a kid trying to play at a role, and not for what she was: a talented girl that would become a brilliant woman and hero.

And then Jason, his son… If Bruce could go back in time, he would convince Jason that he didn’t need to be Robin to be Bruce’s son. He feels stupid every day, when he remembers that he lost his boy because he’d failed to see how much Jason craved his attention. That wasn’t all it was, he knows that. Jason was a good, happy kid who was always a fierce protector. He protected his mother and the other kids before, and when he became Robin, he protected Gotham with the fire and passion of a kid that might really have been magic, just not how Jason expected.

Tim… Tim literally gave Bruce no choice.

That kid showed up Bruce’s house, grabbed him by the collar, and shook Bruce out of his grief induced depressive state. He did that every day for weeks, and when that didn’t work, he literally stole the Robin costume out of the glass case and saved Bruce and Dick, and from there, Bruce promised he wouldn’t let this child with no self preservation instincts and this need to prove that he’s a useful and good kid die on him.

Stephanie gave Bruce heartache so strong that it felt as if she had carved out his chest with a knife. She wanted to prove to herself that she wasn’t her father’s daughter, that she was better than him. She wanted to stick in to everyone’s faces that she could make a change in the world, and it terrified Bruce when her fire could almost get her killed.

He kept seeing Jason in her eyes- the same with Tim, but with Stephanie, it was because she was just like him. And he had nightmares about finding her in Jason’s place, in some warehouse far, far away, that Bruce was seconds too late getting to.

Cass was a light that he wished to protect, but one that he had no right to keep on a shelf. She was more than capable of making her own decisions, and she had decided to change the course of her life to be better than her parents. And she made that work, she learned a language that none of them can understand.

And with Damian, Bruce missed… so much.

Stuck in the time stream for a year, losing his memory each time he got closer to home and regaining it just to lose it again. When he had left, Damian was the sharp edge of a glinting knife, he was desperate to live up to his mother’s expectations. He craved the title that he had been told to covet, and Bruce wasn’t there when Damian learned that the knife he was trained to be wasn’t all he was.

Duke was spit-fire, he’s a natural born leader, a genius just like his other children. Bruce had been terrified when he’d learned about the We Are Robin movement, but upon getting to know Duke, he saw a kid that needed to know who he was, what he could do so save people. He’d thankful every day that Duke decided to join them, to be on their team. He’s not a Robin, he’s his own hero.

Bruce had always wondered if he was absent, would his children fare better? Would they be set free of having to dig out Bruce’s heart for a semblance of love? He often wishes he could lay out who he was and who he is just to prove to them that he loves them with his entire being.

He knows that when he was young, he was an outgoing child. But life and death stripped that away, and often, now, the words gather in him, but they refuse to leave. The boil down into overwhelming feelings, and that’s when Bruce is the most lost.

He’d give anything for them to give up this life, to become as regular citizens as they can be. Bruce wants them to feel safe and at home, and even if they have been betrayed by the world, they could find solace in no longer being alone. However, he recognizes that it would be stripping them down of their will, and he has to let go of his fear if he wants to keep them alive.

There’s a child out there right now, and Bruce can feel a cycle repeating.

Those sticky notes were all he needed in order to figure that out. The handwriting and the drawings on some of them indicated a level of juvenile that felt just like looking at a notebook for his kids’ schoolwork. He wasn’t at all surprised when Gordon informed him of the witness descriptions.

Bruce stares down at the docks below, frustrated not for the first time that he couldn’t be in two places at once.

He wants to go out and track down this teenager and either stop this before the ball gets rolling, or figure out how in the world he’s going to tell everyone about this without them immediately making the jokes that they do. Instead, he’s forced to sit out the stakeout, because they got good information that Two-Face was connected to a shipment of explosives that were coming in, and Bruce needs to put a stop to this plan that’s brewing.

Damian is settled next to him, underneath Bruce’s cape to shield him from the sharp fall wind and the slight spattering of misty rain. A fog is settling in on the shipyard, gray and preventing their ability to see farther out than fifty feet into the water. Damian is working on a case, but he’d paused his reading a few moments ago.

“Peter.”

…Not what Bruce expected the problem to be. “Peter?”

“He’s withholding information. To all of you.” Damian informs him as if Bruce wasn’t very clear on that. “You had the perfect opportunity to get him to talk or to figure out what he was doing, but you didn’t.”

“Are you asking me why?”

Damian just looks up at him with his brows furrowed.

This is a conflicting answer.

Peter is most definitely hiding something from them. Bruce has a lot of theories, but his most promising one: Tony and Peter did move to Gotham, but through shady means. Tony didn’t leave Peter by choice, was most likely captured by a rogue. Possibly Two-Face, because Firefly wouldn’t take a hostage and would rather blow something up. Or Tony was involved with Penguin, maybe Black Mask. Peter is left on his own during that time.

Or another theory: Peter is being held leverage over Tony, and this is the man’s way of protecting him.

But there’s also a good chance that Tony is abusive, and had left Peter. Seeing as Peter has no records that they can find, he might have been involved in human trafficking, and now Peter is on his own. But that doesn’t explain why Peter was so attached to Tony, convinced the man is coming back for him.

Peter does sort of match the description of an abandoned child. Mistrusting of other adults, neglected, malnourished, defensive.

But these are no doubt theories that the others have formed as well, if Bruce taught them right. And he did, as best as he could.

Meeting Peter… Bruce had not been on the case because there were more time-sensitive cases to attend to. Having rogues out and ready to strike at any moment required his full attention. He just so happened to meet Peter while staking out that bar that Harvey frequents.

Bruce might dislike the adoption jokes because they hold a huge amount of truth in them.

He took one look at this reckless, snarky child, who was exceedingly calm in the face of danger, and thought: This is all too familiar. Because there is something in the universe that has made a circle in time around him, always bringing him the same story over and over.

Besides that, Peter reminded him so much of Dick that it felt like a slap in the face. Not just because of the tan skin and the dimples, nor the eyes that resemble Dick’s mother’s, but his attitude. Bruce almost wondered if he’d stepped through time as was looking at his first son as a teenager. He almost did decide to take Peter back to the Batcave, like Peter kept joking about.

“If I had taken Peter back with me, what would you expect from that?”

“Interrogating him and finding out what he’s been hiding.”

“Robin, he wouldn’t have told us a thing.” Bruce tells him. “He would have been defensive and refused to answer our questions. He was already mistrusting of me. When I took him back to where he’s been staying, he relaxed so visibly that I knew he had already thought that I would interrogate him.”

“But if he does want his foster father back, why wouldn’t he tell us everything that he knows? He has to be involved in something, he has a secret that could cause more trouble for us.” Damian’s words only prove to Bruce that he was right, that his other kids had assumed something either happened to Tony or Tony left him. “If you all continue to coddle him and he turns out to be a threat-”

“Then he turns out to be a threat.” Bruce interrupts. Damian falls silent, save for the click of his tongue in annoyance of being interrupted, “Tt”, but Bruce can see he’s bottling up a lot of what he wants to say. “There are some cases where giving the benefit of the doubt means more than we know.”

If he hadn’t been so hung up on his paranoia in the first place, Jason wouldn’t have thought that Bruce was going to discard him, and even if he had left for Ethiopia, he may have brought Bruce with him.

He hadn’t given Dick the benefit of the doubt, nor Tim, not Steph… He’s trying to be better. And something about Peter- something about how that child looks like a copy paste of his son- tells Bruce that he won’t regret going against his every instinct. Not this time.

Damian is unsatisfied with that answer, but he’s at least thinking about it. Maybe one day, he’ll understand. For now, they settle their eyes on an incoming boat. The lights on one side are off, casting one side in shadow, and the other in light.

-

“Another sighting was reported.” Babs chimes in his ear.

Tim is going f*cking crazy.

Here’s the thing: Tim oh-so-prides himself on his patience. But this Spiderjerk that everyone keeps talking about? Gotham, give him strength not to strangle the guy when they finally meet up.

Tim thought that this case wouldn’t take so long- would be done in a couple hours, tops. This isn’t the first time someone got it in their heads that they would try to be like the Bats and Robins, wanting to do good. Or, just punch sh*t. Or kill, thinking that they’re doing the right thing. Jason only gets away with killing because B can’t handle losing him again, and even then… Yeah.

They get it a lot. Hell, that’s how they got Duke. He was not only the leader of the We Are Robin movement, he was doing his own vigilante work for a while before Bruce was finally able to grab him by the scruff and bring him home.

However, none of those people were like this.

Turns out, that reckless driving case? According to the witnesses (seven drunk teens), Spiderman picked up the car with one hand and moved it away from the light pole. He then proceeded to explain everything that was broken with the car, asked someone in the apartments for bottled water, and lectured the teens on the dangers of drunk driving. He left the sticky note with the most sober of them, and then f*cked off to go stop a mugging. There, he left another sticky note.

And then it just keeps f*cking going, except this dude is everywhere.

It wasn’t just the Upper East Side- he gave a Metropolis transport directions to a clinic. He stopped a bike theft in Robinson Park, he helped EMS in the University District transport patients that got into a boating accident- that’s on the other side of the f*cking island! Babs just keeps coming in with more reports, more sightings, more stupid f*cking sticky notes!

“Someone in Coventry just tweeted that a guy named Spiderman helped him find his dog and gave him a sticky note doodle-”

“Are you serious?” Tim should not be this pressed, but there is. No rhyme or reason to where this dude shows up, and Tim has been chasing his tail since 11PM. It’s nearing 2AM now, he should be heading back to the Manor to crash.

“He’s good, whoever he is. And his doodles get better throughout the night.” Babs has the nerve to sound impressed. “He draws dogs with two circles, four stick legs and a stick tail, and a smiley face.”

“I don’t care how he draws his dogs!”

“You should.” She snickers in his ear. “Oh, hey. Wow, you’re gonna hate this. Someone in the City Hall District just reported that a guy named Spiderman stopped a car from running into the G. Superior Courthouse.”

Tim closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.

“You mean he’s somehow gotten from Coventry, past Robinson Park, the bridges, the Diamond District, Old Gotham, and made his way near the docks. On the other side of the city? All in what, less than twenty minutes?”

“Have we ruled out teleportation?”

“He has to have teleportation!” Tim shouts running a harried hand through his hair. “How else is he getting places so fast?”

“So, this guy is clearly a meta in some way, if he has the strength to lift a car with one hand.”

“Keep in mind that they were drunk and no one else reported super strength.”

“Hey, weird.”

“What is it?” Tim turns on his heel to start grappling towards City Hall District. He’s pushing it time wise, but anyone who lectures him about taking his time to get home can take the case from him and they can find this Elusive Spiderman instead. Because Tim is going to lose his patience.

“Some witnesses described Spiderman as short, and a lot of people thought he was a new Robin.” Babs explains, and Tim clicks his tongue. Bruce and Jason aren’t going to like that. “But the witnesses at City Hall all describe this Spiderman as being an adult.”

“Guess I’ll have to look into that too.” Tim grapples past Robinson Park. He’s about to make it towards the bridge when Babs hums in his ear.

“...Hey, double-R.”

“Please don’t tell me what I think you’re about to tell me.”

“He was just sighted in the Upper West Side.”

Tim’s eye twitches under his mask.

When he had said earlier that he felt that something was off, he’d been desperate not to be right. He’s got a lot on his plate right now- he should be at home, studying for midterms so he can get this stupid GED that everyone says is sooo important.

(He should be in the Batcave, trying to find any sort of online trail for Peter, because seriously, where did that kid come from? Is he connected to a human trafficking case? Are there more kids out there that they don’t know about? Is this Tony guy someone they need to take down? Why does Tony not have anything on him? Is that even his real name?)

But instead, he’s chasing after this Spiderman guy, because Hell opened up. Maybe the ‘Can’t Say It Out Loud’ rule should be changed to ‘Don’t Even Think It.’

-

Peter is having a lot of fun.

Once he got back into the swing of things, it was like he hadn’t missed a day. He’s gotten to meet a lot of people, and apparently, Gotham is more trusting of someone who might be a Robin than they are trusting of a random 14 year old, so maybe that’s another point for how trustworthy the Bats are. Cause if their people trust them like that, then they’ve got to be doing something right.

He’s been doing this for so long that he almost forgets why he went out in the first place: to find the guy that grabbed Peter and brought him here. It’s as he makes his way closer to Diamond District that Peter’s senses go off and he’s reminded of what he’s there for.

RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE!

Peter flips when he reaches the arc of a swing, peering below at the assortment of rooftops. The Jumping Radar is shouting out at him, letting him know that it senses a disturbance of air nearby. Peter pin points the location on his map, and is thankful to find that it’s not inside of a building, but on top of one.

A white light flashes at the top of a building, startling Peter as he remembers the sensation of teleporting like that. He ignores the memory in favor of stopping his webbing mid swing and thwipping out another to head in that direction with a grunt.

He swerves over the top of that building in an arch, landing on the roof with silent feet. He drops down to his hand to keep his balance, scanning the roof with wide eyes.

near see it? right there! bad bad bad

His heart pounds as he spots the figure of the man, running away from where he appeared and hunched over himself.

This is it. This is what Peter has been waiting for, has been prepping for this entire time. He should be excited, but all he can really feel is anticipation and the overwhelming urge to get sick. He really hates that getting nervous makes his tummy hurt.

The man is scrambling to get down to the fire escape on the side of the building, chattering loudly to himself and clutching onto a metal briefcase. His giggles sound almost demented, or like they slip not from laughter or joy, but from a broken piece of him.

Peter tilts his head, eyeing the man as he crawls flat on the roof, hidden inside the shadows.

His hands movements are odd- snappy one second, but then fluid the next. When he laughs, his head twitches towards the left. His spider-senses hum with low danger danger danger…

no close don’t bad idea

But how else is he gonna get that wrist tech?

“I got it, I did! I did excellent!” The man’s voice rings in Peter’s ears. He might not have been able to hear what was being shouted at him when they were falling, but he does recall that the man’s voice and made a shiver run down his spine before he had kidnapped Peter.

No time to be scared, Parker.

Spider-Man stands on his feet, watching as the man struggles to hold his suit case and get down the fire escape. He co*cks his head to one side, wondering how the hell this fool managed to one up him in the first place.

“I’d bet good money that whatever is in that briefcase doesn’t belong to you.” Spider-Man’s voice has the man spin around, one foot slipping on the fire escape with a clang! He catches himself with one bony hand, wildly pointing at Spider-Man with the other.

“SSSpider-Man!?”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” Spider-Man stalks closer. He was right, the briefcase has a large, shiny logo for Wayne Enterprises on the side. He’s disappointed with himself that he hadn’t gotten here in time to prevent the briefcase from getting stolen. Does he have tech, or something else inside there?

“Give me that wrist-piece.”

“Never!” The man howls like Spider-Man had suggested cutting off his arm, holding his wrist tight in his other hand and shaking himself. “Never! Never! It’s mine, you can’t have it! Go away! Get back!”

“And I’m supposed to just listen to you?” Spider-Man scoffs at him. The idiot sounds like a petulant child. “And what’s in this?” Spider-Man growls, thwipping a web at the briefcase. He expects it to release from the man’s hand no problem, but it doesn’t budge.

They stare at each other, and Spider-Man takes a moment to remember who he’s dealing with here. No normal human can hold onto something that tightly, not with Peter’s and the webbing’s strength.

“You’re enhanced?”

“Mutant,” The man corrects, electric yellow eyes blinking one at a time. A wicked grin spreads across his lips, revealing a row of teeth with hooks at his canines. Fangs, but they’re covered enough that he can’t tell what type they are. “And a genius. I created the ability to travel dimensions!”

“I don’t understand. Instead of showing the world what you did and getting the credit that way, you start trying to steal from Stark Industries and now the Wayne Enterprise?” Spider-Man shakes his head.

The disappointment eats at him- all of this wouldn’t have happened if the man had half of common sense to go along with the intelligence he has. He could have had something revolutionary, but whatever is broken in his brain prevented him from understanding that. Spider-Man tugs the briefcase, but the man’s hold grows stronger.

“Why did you attack Peter?”

Because the least he can do is bother to give some clarity to the situation. He hates being out of the loop.

“The boy is leverage!” The man squals, tugging the briefcase back to his chest and attempting to get away. He kicks at the webbing in a futile attempt, then tries biting it only for it to stick to his mouth for a moment. He spits it out and rubs it off on his shoulder, growling under his breath. “I need that tech! I won’t stand for a company stealing my ideas!”

“Stealing!?” Spider-Man grits his teeth. “You kidnapped someone!”

“I do what is necessary!” He retorts, as if it made all the sense in the world.

“Why bring him here? To this place? Why not just keep him in the original world?

Because that makes no sense either- Peter could be leverage in his own universe. Unless-

“No one else can get him back, like this.” The man laughs, a wheezy thing. “They could find him if we left him in that universe. No, no here, we have the power over them and the boy.”

Except the moron hasn’t even questioned what Spider-Man is doing in this universe. Some genius he is, not knowing who he’s talking to, or why. Is he seriously not even going to ask? He was only a little surprised that Spider-Man showed up to stop him?

“A boy that you have no idea where he is?”

“That-!” The man scowls fiercely at the reminder. “That was a mistake!”

What?

“What do you mean?”

“Lost the boy.” The man hisses, narrowing his eyes and glaring at Spider-Man. “Was supposed to keep him, but I hadn’t tested travel with two. He slipped, fell. I found a crater but no boy.”

His heart thuds louder, blood rushing in his ears.

He was… This man was trying to keep Peter?

Alright, he knows that it made no sense to just let Peter loose on Gotham, but Peter hadn’t even thought about it. He had supposed that this guy was crazy enough that he wouldn’t think that far ahead. But actually, Peter was supposed to stay captured…

Oh, god. Because Peter is leverage.

They had no proof of life to send back home, to show that Peter wasn’t dead, or dying. No doubt that threw a wrench in this guy’s plans, but Peter is thankful.

Not because he now thinks that his family might definitely assume he is dead and gone, or they’re holding out hope that Peter is fine and they’re bluffing. That sucks. But to think that if things had gone right for this guy, Peter wouldn’t be out in Gotham, having access to vigilantes that check on him, and the man would have figured out that Peter is Spider-Man, or he would have hurt Peter in an effort to show Tony that he means business? And Peter would have been really reliving his worst memories of the last time he was kidnapped, and-

“Who are you?”

The man’s smile reminds Peter of a serpent, and he has to resist the urge to take a step back. His entire body rushes cold, his neck buzzing as his spider sense whispers in his ear.

danger back away leave go bad danger no no no

“I am Dr. Jonathan Ohnn.” He answers.

Ohnn… Ohnn… for some reason, the name strikes Peter as familiar, like he’s heard it before. But he doesn’t have the time to think of it now, he needs to get that wrist tech and the briefcase away from this guy before he uses it to do something drastic- and Peter would like to get home.

Spider-Man tugs harshly at the case. It doesn’t budge from his hand, but Ohnn stumbles forward. Anger flashes in the man’s eyes, and with a fierce snarl, he snatches it back- Peter’s eyes widen as he sees the flash indicating a jump and he jumps forward to grab onto Ohnn’s arm. “You’re not going anywh-”

His voice is drowned out by the feeling of a jump, just as unpleasant as he remembers. When they pop out on the other side, it’s in the air above the alley. Wind whips around them as Peter struggles to grab the band, and Ohnn screeches in rage.

The case is raised up in his fit of violence and Peter takes a blow to the face, the metal crunching his nose. He blinks past the pain and keeps his hold strong as Ohnn jumps again, this time near the ground. They both go tumbling, rolling onto the street in a fury of fists and kicks.

Actually- it looks all too childish, if he takes the split second to view this from an outside perspective. If a childish game of slapping and kicking also involves slamming a briefcase down on someone heads in multiple repeated blows.

“Give it to me!”

“Die, you insect!” Ohnn screams back. The next hit is with Ohnn’s bare fist- the briefcase falling to the ground- and hurts, somehow, more than the first hit with the briefcase. Peter’s grip slips on the wrist, but he squeezes with more force and sticks to the metal.

Ohnn screams in pain, and there’s the crunch of metal underneath Peter’s grip. He tugs Ohnn’s sleeve up and attempts to peel back the wrist piece off of Ohnn’s arm, but Ohnn manages to wiggle out of Peter’s grip.

He kicks up at Peter, hitting his stomach. Peter grunts in pain, but closes his fists around Ohnn’s ankle, turns on his heel in a circular motion, and starts to swing Ohnn around like he’s a bat. Ohnn screams when Peter lets go of him, sending the man into a nearby car. The windows bust and glass shatters onto the pavement and inside the car. The alarms screech in protest, and lights go out in the apartments around them one by one.

People are scrambling to get inside, some of them barely taking the time to glance over their shoulders to see what is going on. Peter grits his teeth, dropping into a running stance as Ohnn gets back onto his feet.

Ohnn jumps before Peter can get to him. He appears behind Peter in a flash, laughs in Peter’s face as he grabs the briefcase, and jumps just before the webbing can hit his face- disappearing into ash.

Peter’s left alone as the street plunges into complete darkness. Dead silence hangs over them all, the hum of electricity disappearing and leaving only anticipation in its wake. Gotham holds her breath, and through the darkness, it feels as though someone’s eyes have fallen on him.

The power flickers back to life moments later, save for the light pole above him.

Chapter 4: i've been dreaming about flying for a long time

Chapter Text

Anger doesn’t even begin to cover what Peter felt at first.

Realizing that all he is to Ohnn is leverage so he can get Stark Tech? That had hit him hard, the frustration eating away at him as he got away from the street. He’s a liability to Tony now, and he knows it. Knew it. He had known the whole time, practically, but to hear it outright had pissed him off.

His first thought? It was: what if it happens again? After all of this is over, what if Peter is targeted again and he doesn’t stop it? And then Tony has to worry all over again? They had discussions about this very thing when Tony became his foster parent. His social worker had mentioned it so many times, and Tony had assured her that he had the best security in the world. And now, Peter’s gone and made Tony a liar.

If Peter manages to get back, there’s no guarantee that Tony gets to keep him.

No, Peter. Tony would never let them take you away.

But he might, if he thinks Peter is in more danger there.

He would never- he promised, remember?

That promise. Peter clutches at it, wishes he could hold the words in his hand. He thinks if he could hold a promise, he’d never be able to doubt that it’s real.

When Peter had been kidnapped the first time, Tony had nearly died just so he could save Peter, and in doing so, he’d earned a trust that Peter thought he’d never be able to give anyone ever again.

Maybe it had something to do with meeting Tony before the kidnapping. Peter had, after all, stumbled into multiple Avengers that were looking for the people who were taking kids in Queens. Targeting the homeless ones most of all- Kids like Peter. They all had been investigating the deaths and disappearances of those kids that were dumped unceremoniously into rivers and unmarked graves, left to rot in morgues.

From what Peter heard, those kids either got reunited with their family in death, or had no one show up at all. It was only because of the Avengers that they got to keep their names in death and weren’t labeled as Jane or John Does.

Peter, who went by Parker at the time, was a pretty well known figure in the community. He had been a valuable resource to the Avengers because Peter could tell them the names of kids who went missing that no one reported because there was no one to report. And that had led to Peter going to Stark Tower more often than not. Which meant that when Peter went missing, he had been able to call Tony first hand, and they knew his last known location.

He was found because of them. He was held for three days. He was… experimented on.

We don’t want to think about it.

The point being, Tony had been the one to find him, he’d been the one to get Peter out of there. And he was there afterwards too. He was the one who promised that he’d never let anyone hurt Peter again, and that he’d make sure that Peter would stay with him. No one else.

He had put in the effort, and sure, it wasn’t, like, the best way he could have handled it. Tony’s not known for his emotional competence. Tony is a man of theatrics and many talents, but he’s never really been graceful about that kind of stuff.

Still, however lacking in emotional grace that Tony could be, he had made a promise, and Peter fully believed he could keep it. He clung to Tony, to Pepper and Happy, and the life that Tony promised him. Even if Tony doesn’t see him as a son, Peter has a family. One that takes care of him, that looks out for him.

He trusts Tony. He does. He won’t listen to that voice in his head that tries to sabotage that, because it would be unfair to Tony. It would be saying that Tony is a liar, when he’s proven himself over this last year that he wouldn’t betray Peter. Ever.

The second thing that hit him after that fiasco of a fight was overwhelming disappointment.

He’s so stupid. He shouldn’t have let go of Ohnn, that’s how that slippery bitch was able to get away. He should have held on, and he would have gotten that damn wrist tech without a problem. But because he did something rash- because he was angry- Ohnn got away.

Again.

See? This is why he sticks to the small time stuff, like a normal 14 year old should. Who is he helping when he gets involved in the big fights? Not himself, not Tony. Not anyone. He just- He gets in the way.

Maybe he’s not cut out to be an Avenger. None of his mentors would have done something that stupid and foolish. All of their training feels wasted on him, this pathetic kid who can’t get one thing right. Some student he is, forgetting everything they taught him the second the real world comes around to literally hit him in the face.

…But that’s also not allowed. Peter knows Natasha would flick him on the forehead if she saw him like this (she always just somehow knows when he is “moping” as she calls it). Dr. Banner would go through a list of dumb things they’ve all done in their time as heroes. Tony would start singing over him if Peter started to imply anything about himself being stupid. And Pepper would encourage him to move forward despite the mistakes.

The third emotion to hit him?

A stupid, aching, horrible loneliness.

All of his friends- no, his family, are in another universe, being taunted by some asshole who has Peter trapped here. He just wishes he had at least someone else from his universe here to talk to. Something that made some damn sense, you know?

Tony would have something clever to annoy him with, Pepper would talk him through what he’s feeling. Ned…

Ned just being here would be a comfort like no other. He’d probably tell Peter something silly like how “cool” he was when fighting Ohnn, and in turn, Peter could pretend he believed it. He’d get to rest his head on Ned’s shoulder, listen to his heartbeat, and feel comforted by his presence. And his ramblings.

He feels like a stupid kid right now.

He is a stupid kid. He can’t do anything right.

Peter sniffles, wiping away the blood on his nose with his jacket sleeve. It stains red and all he can think about it is that it sucks his one good jacket is getting blood on it. That was one of the few things he had going for him: no blood on his clothes.

He leans against the wall behind him for support, one arm hugging his knees close to his chest. He’s sitting on a rooftop in the Upper East End, close to Benny’s. He had snuck back in and changed back into his civilian outfit once he realized Ohnn wasn’t coming back tonight, and now he finds himself sitting on a random building and nursing his wounded pride.

Peter should go back to Benny’s. It’s the smart thing to do. Logical, to get some sleep, at least. Maybe cry into his pillow and let off some steam. He’s tired and he wants to sleep.

But also… he’s always found he’s able to think better when he’s on a roof somewhere, looking at the city. Even if it’s not home right now. There’s something about the bright lights blinking up at him that reminds him how small everything actually is.

‘Kid, don’t get so down. You did really well.’ He can hear Tony saying. ‘Of course, ‘well’ was you getting your ass kicked, but what can you do?’

He laughs smally, tugging his sleeves down to cover his cold hands. Tony would know what to say to cheer him up. FRIDAY would play a song in the background as they worked in the lab, but would fuss at them that they’re up way past Peter’s bedtime (though he swears he’s old enough to not have one) and make them go to bed eventually.

Tony won’t be mad at him for taking so long. It’s not like Ohnn was easy to track down. He just appears randomly- or, not randomly. He appears in places that Peter doesn’t have a sense to, yet. Next time. He tells himself. Next time, Ohnn is going down.

He sniffles again. His pride might be getting better, but his face really hurts. Ohnn is stronger than he looks, and Peter believes he wasn’t holding back. …That doesn’t bode well for him when they fight again. Peter will have to use more strength next time, and try not to get so angry. But as much training as Peter has had in the last year, he still finds it hard to hold back his strength if he starts getting too into a fight.

He should write down his breathing exercises that his therapist has him trying out. Maybe then he won’t lose his cool when fighting Ohnn. Peter scoffs to himself, wincing when the action hurts his face. There’s that familiar burning itch as his nose locks back into place with a crunch, no longer broken, but definitely sporting a fat, purple bruise.

close, near, behind? no: left

Peter tenses up as a shadow moves to his left, his stomach sinking in fear.

hello!!!

But it isn’t danger. He relaxes just a little when he spots a familiar vigilante stalking over to where Peter’s little perch is. Literally stalking, because he knows Red Hood is supposed to be in Crime Alley. And yet here he is walking towards Peter as if they’re old friends that planned to meet up on purpose.

Punk ass Bats, always checking to make sure he’s alive and on his well being. They’re awful awful jerks, he tells you.

(It’s nice. Feels like if he ends up going missing, someone will find him again.)

“Hey, Mister Red Hood.” Peter mumbles, looking back out at the city. Dread fills him and he freezes, biting his bottom lip as a wave of anxiety washes over him.

sh*t.

sh*t sh*t sh*t.

He knows just how bad his face looks right now, and he knows what conversation is about to happen. Nightwing had freaked over the last bruises, and snitched on him to all the other Bats because he’s a snitch bitch. He had only managed to get out of that because of timing and avoiding answering.

He just wishes that Red Hood had caught him at a better time. If he had come later, the bruises wouldn’t be so bad. They’d look almost healed… (maybe. Peter isn’t getting enough to eat lately even with Benny’s meals, so the healing might take longer.)

And yeah, it honestly looks worse to him than the other time. His nose got the worst of it, and at least it isn’t broken anymore, but his right eye is sort of swollen shut and his lip is busted.

This… isn’t gonna help his case in the slightest.

Peter ducks his head away as if that will help him at all. It’s an attempted to at least stall what he knows is coming long enough that he can come up with something to say as an excuse. No, my Dad doesn’t hit me, I just live in Gotham at the moment and I got beat up. That sounds good. Peter is so smart.

Red Hood waves at him, offering a tired, “Hey”, but stops mid step when he gets close enough to see Peter in the light. His boot hovers in the air and then gently lowers, and his fingers twitch into a fist.

Yep. Exactly what Peter expected.

Peter doesn’t look at him.

“Who did that to you?” Red Hood’s voice is calm- too calm. Peter’s senses hiss in his ear angry, he’s angry. But Peter doesn’t think he’s angry at him.

Peter shrugs as Red Hood sits down next to him. The man is unnaturally warm, so his suit must have a heating system in place underneath. Peter resists the urge to get closer to the heat- his thermoregulation issue had his teeth chattering, even if the big jacket he wears provides some comfort.

“Some older kids.” Peter lies. “Didn’t know ‘em. They just wanted money.”

“Where?”

“A few blocks over.” Peter lies again, and he can feel Aunt May’s disappointment in him. “They’re gone by now.”

“It looks pretty bad.”

“I’ve had worse.” He says, before he can think about how it might sound.

Red Hood is silent, and Peter finally chances a glance at him. His fist is clenching and unclenching, a bloody battle waging in his mind. His heartbeat picks up, and Peter hears him taking a few deep breaths, recognizing the four-three-four pattern from his own therapist’s breathing exercises.

“Is your Dad home?”

Peter scowls even though it hurts his face, his voice tinged in defense. “Why?”

Red Hood doesn’t care that Peter got angry. He cuts through like a bull, forcing Peter to listen. “Because you’re hurt, and you aren’t at home telling him.”

Ugh, he hates to say it, but the Maybe Bat Maybe Rogue has got him on that one. He can’t say anything to that. Obviously. Peter wipes his nose again, pointedly turning away from him to stare at the city lights. “He’ll be back soon.”

“Liar.”

Peter stiffens, indignant fire spiking in him. “Am not.”

“Are too.”

He huffs in frustration, looking away from Red Hood again, scrambling to collect his thoughts much the way someone would struggle to catch a bubble. Peter doesn’t have to say anything else- no rebuttal, no excuses, nothing to defend Tony. Because as much as Peter wants to defend him, he can’t do that fully without admitting why Tony isn’t here. He just wants to scream and throw everything out there in a Hail Mary.

But he holds it back. Be smart, Peter.

He doesn’t know enough about the Bats. And besides, this is his fight. It’s the Avengers, not these heroes. What if they handle their cases somehow in a manner that Peter doesn’t want to get involved in?

Being ridiculous.

A rough hand falls on his head, ruffling his hair. Peter attempts to get away, but the hand falls still and… Peter does too. Red Hood’s hand is warm, and suddenly the fight is lost on him, at least for that battle. Red Hood lets his hand stay there, as if waiting for Peter to throw his hand off.

Peter doesn’t. He can’t find it in him to let go of the contact- any human contact, because it’s been nearly two weeks, and he misses Tony, and his mentors, and Ned, so badly right now. And his chest aches a little bit of having someone this close, someone to tease him, even if they aren’t real friends.

That must be a green light in Red Hood’s eyes, because he speaks again when he knows Peter has relaxed just a little. “What’s your name?”

Peter blinks at Red Hood, the question staring at him in the face. What is he talking about? Don’t they-

OH. No, they don’t.

He never told any of the vigilantes his name. In all the meetings he’s had with them up until this point, he hadn’t introduced himself properly. Isn’t it silly? He had an emotional freak-out before he told them his name.

Unless they do already know it, and are just keeping that a secret from him.

The thing is though, Peter doesn’t want to fully introduce himself, which is surely what Red Hood and the Bats are looking for. If they hadn’t already searched Peter up, they’d want to know. But Peter doesn’t know if “Peter Benjamin John Andrea Parker” lives in this universe or not, and he’s worried about giving out “Peter Parker” and finding out if he’s googleable or not.

So, for the just in case, Peter ain’t giving them anything but his first name.

“Peter.” He supplies, looking curiously up at Red Hood as if that would tell him if Red Hood did know it and was just pretending not to. It would be suspicious of them if they said Peter’s name and he had realized they shouldn’t know it…

Damn, they have Peter read pretty well. Bastards. All of them.

“You hungry, Pete?”

Peter narrows his eyes in suspicion- and at the nickname calling. He can’t tell what emotion Red Hood has on his face because of the helmet. The man waits for a reply patiently, seemingly understanding what Peter would be hesitant about. Going to get food with a stranger that has at least five guns on him (and two hidden somewhere, Peter can hear the metal in his jacket and boot) and is probably a crime lord doesn’t sound like something a kid with a reasonable sense of self awareness and self preservation instincts should have.

But Peter can’t sense danger from him, at least, not any danger towards Peter. There’s a buzzing underneath all of the hellos! and safes! that his spider—sense supplies to him. It feels… green.

Green?

Hm. Peter doesn’t know what to do with that. Sometimes he feels colors from people. Like Miss Wanda has always been red, a scarlet that spreads. And the Hulk is green too, but Red Hood’s green feels separate from him.

So, there’s the buzzing that says this man could kill and has killed. But there’s nada, zilch, nothing of an immediate danger danger towards Peter. All he can sense is his own hungry stomach, and his backpack is sitting next to him with money for food.

His face needs food to get fixed, he reasons. He’s not getting too close to a strange vigilante. He’s just getting food, for his health.

“I know a place nearby.” Red Hood takes his non-protest as an answer and stands up, stretching his back. “Let’s get somethin’ to eat. I’m starvin’.”

He takes the risk grabbing Red Hood’s outstretched hand and letting himself get tugged up onto his feet. He snatches his bag close to his chest then slings it over one shoulder. Red Hood keeps one arm around Peter’s shoulders to keep him from going over the side- a gesture that is still nice even though Peter has excellent balance.

“You’re not gonna kidnap me, right?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure that I’m not gonna kidnap ya.”

“Cool.”

Red Hood pauses and says, “‘Cool’? That was too easy. Ya know people can just say they won’t kidnap ya? Right? You know that, right?”

Peter’s heart drops and he gawks at Red Hood. “You’re gonna kidnap me!? But you just said-”

“No, no I’m not! I’m just saying that ya can’t reply with ‘Cool’ if anyone other than me says that!” Red Hood slaps his forehead.

“Like Nightwing?”

“No, like a stranger!”

“You… are a stranger.” Peter is growing more confused by the second.

“Ya know me, Peter.”

“No, I don’t actually, ‘cause otherwise I’d like, know your name. Unless you’re always Red Hood and don’t exist in the daytime. Like a vampire.”

“Okay, first of all.” Red Hood goes to cover his mouth, but settles on pointing at Peter. “If ya mean that vampires stop existing when the sun comes out, they don’t. They just turn to ash if they see the sun, and they sleep during the day.”

“But what about Twilight? Edward sparkles.”

“Second of all,” Red Hood ignores him. “Ya know that I’m a good guy, and I won’t kidnap ya. Ya don’t need my name to know that.”

“No, I don’t.” What Peter knows is that his spider-sense likes them.

“Yes you do. I’m a good guy, and I won’t. I’m the least likely of us to kidnap ya.”

“Least likely?” Peter is starting to wonder if his spider-sense got all mucked up during the multidimensional travel. “Who’s the most?”

“Batman. He’s done it before, and he won’t stop.”

“Did he kidnap you?”

“Yeah, it’s a real problem.” Red Hood’s reply leaves a low hum from his spider-sense, and the topic sounds like dangerous territory.

“They have therapy for that.” Peter says. “Also, he didn’t kidnap me when he drove me in the Batmobile. Had plenty of opportunity then, if it’s really that big of a problem.”

“He did what?”

“I got to sit in the Batmobile.” Peter blabs, unknowing of why Red Hood sounds so affronted. “I wanted to press the buttons, but I figured I pressed enough of his to know I shouldn’t test my luck. I really wanted to, though.”

“He let you sit in the front seat?”

“Why would I sit in the back?” Peter crosses his arms. “It was just us. I would have felt like I was taking the world’s strangest Uber back to Benny’s.”

“Ugh, just, whatever. My point is: unless it’s me, don’t just say ‘cool’ when someone says they won’t kidnap you.”

“Cool.”

Red Hood stares at Peter.

“I mean… alright?”

“Let’s just f*ckin’ go.”

-

They get down the same way that they got up a building last time they talked. Red Hood is gentle with Peter but keeps a strong hand, as if he’s scared the wind would blow Peter away. And when Peter tried to pay for his own food, Red Hood actually slapped his hand down and made him put his money clip in his backpack.

The place that Red Hood offered to eat at ended up being a taco stand that, if Peter’s nose was correct, had more guns than it did spices. But Peter takes that as a symbol of a long-standing business in Gotham, because he’s seen no other taco stands, and everyone here ignores each other.

“It’s like a watering hole.” Peter mutters to himself as he sits down at a bench.

“It’s like a what?”

“Dinosaurs wouldn’t kill each other at watering holes. Essential resource became a safe haven.” He babbles to the vigilante that sits across from him, who’s dumping their food into the middle of the picnic bench. “Tacos are essential resources, I guess.”

“Yeah, yeah, ok. Eat your food, Squirt.” Peter thinks Red Hood might have rolled his eyes under that helmet.

Peter takes one last look at where their picnic table is positioned. It’s just outside of the light, farther back from the other people here who are minding their business. In fact, Peter realizes that because of the bushes on the other side, he’s the only one who’d even know Red Hood was sitting here.

“Aren’t you gonna eat too?”

Red Hood stares at him, so Peter stares back.

“You said you were hungry.” He reminds him. “And these are a lot of tacos.”

Indeed, Red Hood had bought them more than what Peter should have been able to eat alone, if he were fully human. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume that Red Hood knew how much he needs to eat. The amount of tacos on the table would be enough for Peter to be satisfied for two meals. But certainly, Peter isn’t going to eat that much. Not only would it blow his cover, he’d also look a little desperate and weird.

And yet, Red Hood doesn’t move to grab anything on the table.

Peter huffs, and he turns around on the picnic bench to face away from him. “I’ll even close my eyes, cause I’m so nice. See? Well, you can’t see, because my back is turned. But my eyes are closed. Scout’s honor.”

After a few seconds, Peter grins when he hears a chuckle from under the mask and then the click as if something was removed. Without the voice modulator, Red Hood’s voice doesn’t sound that different, just less muffled.

“All right. I trust you.”

Trust him, huh? Peter doesn’t know why. It’s not like he did anything to deserve that kind of trust. All he’s done is lose his temper and lie to them.

“Hand me a taco, please.” Peter holds out his hand behind him, and Red Hood sets one in his palm.

Peter unfolds the taco, wondering what to even talk about with this guy. Is this a talking situation? Or are they just gonna sit here in silence and bond somehow? He can see Red Hood doing that. It seems like something someone this cool would do.

‘Cause even if Peter hadn’t admitted it at first, he does think Red Hood is pretty cool. Now that he isn’t full of adrenaline or having an emotional freak-out or whatever, he can say that Red Hood is objectively, a cool dude. He wears a leather jacket, of course he’s cool.

What do people even talk about when they’re cool?

“You’re from New York, right?” Red Hood breaks the silence just as Peter bites into his food. Peter nods, and Red Hood grunts. “Which part?”

“Queens.”

“You like it there?”

“Very much.” Peter almost forgot to reply because the taco is that damn good. He can see why this place is watering-hole quality. “My parents moved there before I was born. I’m assuming you’re from Gotham?”

“Crime Alley.” The man hums in thought. “So why’d you move? If you guys liked it there so much.”

Peter shrugs, wondering how exactly to say this. “We didn’t have a lot of choice.”

And, thus, an idea strikes him with all the grace of a missile launch landing on his front doorstep.

He told Red Hood that if he was really in trouble, he’d tell someone. But Peter can’t do that without revealing himself, not with his ‘situation’. He’d have to tell them about the alternate universe, about being a ‘meta’, all of it, and risk getting rejected.

Or maybe he can.

Because if he’s being honest, and it isn’t hard to be so when it’s his inner monologue, Peter would really, really like not being kidnapped. For a third time. Or, at least, he’d like having someone be aware that it could happen. He’ll have to be ten times more careful not to let them figure out that he’s Spider-Man and all the other stuff, but this is a step in the right direction.

“…I think we’re in trouble.” Peter says slowly, and he feels eyes glued on the back of his head almost instantly. “I know I told you I’d tell someone if I was. So I’m telling you, cause I keep promises. And I don’t know if Dad can handle this one.”

Peter winces at the last part. He does think Tony could figure it out. But also, it’s kind of hard to do that when there’s a potential time limit hanging over their heads, and it wouldn’t hurt to have a few extra eyes on this. If the Bats pass this little test, then maybe Peter can trust them.

“I don’t get to know a lot about it, but some guy followed us here, to Gotham. Jonathan Ohnn. I don’t know much else about him, other than he’s mad at my dad.”

“Your dad tell you this?”

“No.” Peter shakes his head. “Jonathan did.”

Red Hood is silent. He gets serious enough that Peter hears him set his taco down. “This guy spoke to you? When? Where? What did he say?”

He’s not telling the full truth, but… It’s enough, right? To get these vigilantes to keep an eye out for Ohnn, to help Peter catch him without Peter having to get too close to them. Natasha would be proud. The lie is at least rooted in truths, that makes him feel a smidge better.

“I met him in the street. He told me that my dad isn’t giving him what he wants for some project of his.”

“What kind of project?”

“He wants money and parts for some ‘jump’ thing. A teleporter. He thinks if he tries to get the stuff legally, someone will steal his work. So he’s threatening my dad to get what he wants. A real paranoid kind of guy.”

Peter eats his taco, looking up at the buildings above and wondering what Red Hood is thinking. It’s a weird situation, a vigilante getting information about a potential bad guy while eating at a taco stand with a kid. Or maybe not. Interrogating people is sort of part of the job.

At least this part is easier than talking about himself.

“Threatening your dad, or you?”

“…Both.” Peter admits, looking at his food. “Pretty much implied that he wants to keep Tony and me separate, so Tony’ll be more inclined to do what he says.”

“Does he know where you live?”

“I don’t think he does.” Peter admits, truthfully this time. “If he did, wouldn’t it make a bigger statement to show up there?”

mad tense worry

Red Hood really is worried about him, then. So the vigilantes are trustworthy in this way- with him as Peter, but not Spider-Man. Of course they’d be- they help people all the time. He shouldn’t have doubted that.

…His trust issues really do get in the way, like, all the time. Peter holds his hand out for another taco, and Red Hood gives him one without a word. Maybe Red Hood thinks he’s buying Peter’s trust with food, but… really, it’s because Peter can tell he’s a good guy.

Strangers can scare Peter. They don’t scare Spider-Man, because he’s a hero, and no one can hurt Spider-Man. But strangers have always hurt Peter, if he trusts too easily. If he tries to get close, if they know what makes him feel weak.

This stranger isn’t so bad.

“And your dad is out of town?”

“Yeah.” Peter says, and he apologizes to Tony that it sounds so bad. “But not because he wants to be.”

Red Hood is quiet again. Peter wishes he’d at least have the decency to think out loud. He can’t see his face, can’t read his body language, can’t even deduce what he’s feeling when he speaks. Peter is forced to rely on listening to an ever steady heartbeat- an incredibly healthy sounding heart- and the calming breaths he takes. Forced to rely on his spider-sense, which doesn’t tell him more than what his other senses can tell him.

“You’re a good kid.” Red Hood finally speaks, and it isn’t what Peter was expecting. He tilts his head in confusion. Red Hood must understand what that means, because he sighs. “You should try to stay inside, if you can. We’ll bring you food and stuff like that-”

“I have what I need. I’m just telling you that you have an angry meta guy roaming around.”

“Meta? You didn’t mention that.”

“He said he was.” Peter winces a little, glad that Red Hood can’t see his face. “He has yellow eyes and he blinks his eyelids one at a time. Also, he was mad at me, so I didn’t ask more about that. That’s all I’ve got.”

“Blinks with…” Red Hood huffs. “We’ll look for him. We’ll find him, and we won’t let him hurt you or your dad. Maybe you’ll get to move back to Queens when he gets thrown in jail.”

Peter grins into his taco, but Red Hood can’t see it.

“I’d like that.”

-

Jason wasn’t hungry after that conversation. The tacos end up getting mostly eaten by the Shortstack in front of him, who’s like a bottomless pit for food. His mind races with thoughts, trying to keep up and keep cool as he settles down in a chair. Tim is typing away with the information Jason gave him.

Jonathan Ohnn is an unfamiliar name to him. He doesn’t recall any rogues or tagged potentials from Gotham with that name, but if he traveled from New York, then it makes sense. It pisses him off to even think about what this guy could be like, if he’s going after a kid in order to get what he wants.

Peter was lying about those bruises, he knew damn well. Ohnn had obviously given them to him, maybe as a warning to Tony that he could do worse. But Peter clearly isn’t in contact with Tony right now, so Peter’s getting hurt for no damn reason.

(Not that there’s any reason at all to hurt a kid. He wants to kill this guy either way.)

What kind of idiot leaves a kid alone in Gotham, on purpose? What even was the plan? Was he going to drop Peter off, hope he doesn’t die, and blends in with the crowd? That’s such a sh*tty idea that Jason can’t even fathom someone using it seriously. Peter is 14, he can’t be left alone in a regular city, let alone Gotham of all places. And there’s no way Tony is his foster dad. CPS is sh*tty here, but not sh*tty enough that Peter wouldn’t be pulled away for bruises like that. So Tony is a guardian, but in what way?

When Jason gets his hands on both this Ohnn asshole and Tony…

Deep breaths. Don’t lose your cool.

He hates that he understands what Peter is feeling. It brings up ugly, ugly memories, and his body feels cold. He rubs at his temples, attempting to push out the thoughts. Being a kid in foster-care, ending up homeless, fighting to survive on his own, a mother that…

Clinging to someone who isn’t there for you.

He closes his eyes, but it makes it all feel ten times worse. As if he can see feet walking towards him in a warehouse-

“Jay?”

He opens his eyes, seeing the others in his peripheral vision. Tim has looked up from his computer, watching Jason. Guilt eats at him.

“‘M fine.” He mutters, trying to soothe his rising anger. Sometimes he can’t tell what the emotion really is, he just calls it anger. “‘M just tired.”

Tim hums as a reply, but he doesn’t have the words to say. None of them ever really do. It makes it worse if they try to pick it apart. Steph, who really should still be sitting in bed while she recovers, gives him a thoughtful and worried smile.

Jason knows he’s only better, or… more stable, because of his family. The anger is easier to manage nowadays, but still. Sometimes, that green-eyed fury tries to take hold of him, tries to ruin the relationships he built up.

Peter’s outbursts of anger felt normal to handle, like he was watching his own self from the outside. The poor kid is riddled with brewing anxiety, guilt, anger, all sorts of emotions that make it hard to breathe. Even more reasons that he shouldn’t be alone.

He’s so- so- small. Had Jason ever been that small? Like, really? He knows that at one point in his life, he had looked up at people to see them. But he can’t remember being that small. He’s 14, yeah, and sure, he’s short. Damian is 14 and short, but Jason meant, like…

The kid looks like he blends right into the background. He erases his presence so easily, trying so hard not to be seen. It reminds Jason of that ill feeling in his gut when he saw Damian in the Robin suit, as young as he is, that screams: They shouldn’t be in this position.

It’s wrong, and it pisses Jason off. He’s sick and tired of kids being involved in a fight that isn’t theirs.

He hadn’t noticed Dick had entered the room until he sat down next to Jason. Dick leans back in his chair, fresh out of the shower with clean clothes on and a towel over his hair. Jason squints at him, something nagging at the back of his mind that he finds difficulty naming.

Dick raises a brow at him. “What’re you looking at me like that for?”

“Your face is pissing me off.”

Dick ignores his comment, likely because it had no bite behind it. Jason can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing something, that it’s staring him right in the face and waiting for him to notice.

“Whoa, wait.” Tim remarks, backing up from one computer monitor to see the other. “I think I found something on this Ohnn guy… though, the name is for ‘Beckham Graham.”

“Lemme see!” Steph scoots her chair closer, pushing Tim to the side. Ever since Peter showed up in that alley, she’s become more interested in him like the rest of them.

“Jay, tell me if this sounds like what Peter was talking about. A few days ago, a man entered Wayne Industries building in the Diamond District, claiming that he had an appointment with one of Bruce’s employees. When informed that he missed this appointment by two days, he started throwing a fit and threatened the receptionist. When asked to leave the premises, he jumped over a chair and scratched one of the security guards in the face.”

“Oh, yikes, this guy sounds bonkers!” Steph is reading faster than Tim could speak, and she cuts him off to continue. “He was forced off the premises and he left before police got involved. The security guard who was scratched went to the hospital a few minutes later because he started feeling extremely ill. Doctors determined that the cause was from the venom of a snake, but his only injuries were the scratches on his face. This worsened over time, and the guard died as a result, in only two hours since the scratch.”

“Sounds like this guy is a snake meta,” Dick frowns, stating the obvious. Jason knows it’s how he works through his thoughts, but it gets a little annoying sometimes. Or maybe Jason is just annoyed thinking about this bastard. “How come this is the only way we heard about this? It happened at WI, we should have known the second it happened.”

“It was in Bruce’s folders, but it was a few days ago, before we knew about Ohnn. It was deemed low-urgency because there wasn’t anyone to spare and no one else came up dead with the same injuries.” Tim explains, drawing up pictures from the file.

The scratches on the guard’s face are black, rotting around the edges. His lips had turned blue, his eyes bloodshot. A sheen of sweat covers his pale skin, the bags under his eyes a dark color like death. His temperature was 103 at it’s highest, and he died moments after the picture was taken.

Peter wasn’t scratched, was he? He didn’t look it, when he was talking to Jason. He didn’t say there was anything else, but would he have told Jason? Should they check on him again? What if in this time, Peter died, because they didn’t know about this venom? He doubts that Peter would go to a clinic or to a hospital at all.

Or not. This guard died two hours after meeting with Ohnn and getting scratched, and they had been out long enough that Jason would have started seeing signs.

“Sounds like the bastard that Peter described.” Jason seethes, eye twitching as he imagines punching the man’s face in. He has to distract himself from the idea, or he’s going to work himself up into a spiral. Instead, Jason latches onto that nagging feeling in the back of his mind and picks up his phone, opening the photo gallery.

“Any security footage you can pull up?” Dick leans over Tim’s chair.

“Yeah, let me see.”

Jason finds the folder he’s looking for, Peter’s face in his mind. The tan skin, the shape of his eyes, his nose and the dimples on his cheeks when he manages a smile… even his anger reminded Jason of someone. Defensive anger, always for someone else, but hiding the rest of their emotions. Well, not hiding. They wear it on their sleeve, but they think that not talking about it will keep it hidden.

“Here he is.” Steph points out. She and Dick both are in Tim’s space, eager to see the screen. “He really is throwing a fit! Look at him throw that briefcase!”

“Where’s he going? Can we follow him?” Dick bites at his nail, eyes glued to the screen. There’s a shining rage in his eyes that Jason huffs at under his breath. Maybe Dick will kill the guy before Jason can.

He finds the picture he’s looking for, zooming in on one face in particular. Not that he would ever let his family know, but he keeps pictures of them in his phone. As many as he can, as if scared he’ll forget their faces one day. He’s not, but it’s like he is. (Clinging on to the real memories they had, so the Green will leave him alone.)

Dick is around 16 years old in this picture, smiling at the camera with a busted nose from some fight a millions years ago that Jason can’t remember the story for.

…It isn’t exact, but the resemblance is uncanny very close. Peter looks a lot a bit like Dick had around that age.

Jason tells himself that it’s because the kid just happens to look like Dick, that they share similar stories. That’s why he draws the conclusion, that’s why Jason feels so strongly about this one random kid. He’d feel the same for any other kid with the same story. The coincidence is just that: a coincidence.

He puts his phone back in his pocket, not sure if he convinced himself of anything, and tries to pay attention to what the others are saying.

“Wait a minute, did you see that?”

“See what?” Steph asks. Tim pauses the recording to point into the crowd of people on the sidewalk.

Jonathan Ohnn, they assume, is at the foreground, scratching at his own cheek, his teeth gritted with rage and his unnaturally yellow eyes bugging out of his face. Jason commits the face to memory, convinced that he’ll have a hard time holding back when he finally stands in front of this bastard.

However, Tim is pointing to the background.

A background that Peter is in.

“Hold the phone, is he following this lunatic? By himself?” Dick worries his lip, eyes widening as Tim plays the video. Sure enough, Peter is walking the same path as Ohnn, sticking far enough back so as not to be spotted. “Why would he do that?”

“Maybe he recognized him.” Tim says slowly, but he’s disappointed at digital Peter for doing something so reckless. “He said his dad wasn’t telling him anything. Maybe he got fed up with that, and didn’t know that Ohnn was dangerous or not yet.”

It still doesn’t sit right with them… But they have no room to talk.

“Hold on… this is where…” Tim lowers his voice, brows furrowing. Only Steph seems to understand what he means.

“Oh my god, it is!”

“Where, Blondie?” Jason grunts, getting up to look at the screen better.

“Look,” She points at Peter. He’s stopped in front of an alley, watching Ohnn leave with one foot in the air. He’s conflicted, visibly trying to keep going but something is holding him back. He stays, shakes his head, and chooses to jog into the alley instead. “He really did that just for a stranger?”

“Did what? Where is he going?”

“This is where Steph ended up hiding after Two-Face and her fought.” Tim answers, and Steph distantly traces the wound in her side that is still healing.

“Peter gave up following Ohnn and getting answers just to help me.” Steph groans. She attempts to flop dramatically into her chair again, but she goes slow as to not aggravate her wound and it ruins any effect. She spins for good measure, as if to make up for it. “Why does he have to be such a good kid? Now I really feel like I need to thank him.”

-

Speed and stealth are Peter’s strong suits.

Not that he isn’t strong- he can lift up to ten tons and if he isn’t careful, he could punch someone’s jaw clean off their face.

But Peter doesn’t rely on his strength. In fact, he is constantly holding back on it. It’s actually more effort to do this, and can strain him in battle. But he doesn’t battle as often as the people of New York might think he does. Spider-Man saving a cat from a tree doesn’t go viral, his fights with the Armadillo or Leap Frog or the occasional stopping of a car accident or a train do.

Peter prefers speed and stealth when he isn’t swinging into the scene. Stalking into the shadows and observing from above, like a real spider lying in wait. He’s gotten even better at it since Natasha started teaching him how to erase his presence in a room. And with his abilities to climb on walls, he can hide in the unlikeliest of places to hide.

It’s helped him more than he thought it would, this past week.

Ever since his conservation with Red Hood at the taco truck, Peter has seen a shift in the Bats around Gotham. The stalking hasn’t ended, not really. He can tell Red Robin stops by on more than one occasion during the evenings to see if Peter is sticking to Benny’s as Red Hood advised him to.

And Peter does. He even helps Benny out at the restaurant, and he heads up to bed afterwards without going out of the building even once. He turns off his light and goes to bed.

Spider-Man doesn’t.

Red Hood told Peter to stay to inside in order to avoid Ohnn. He didn’t tell Spider-Man. Tony often tells him that his ability to think of loop-holes in every rule is going to get him grounded at some point. But Peter would find a loophole then, too.

It doesn’t take much to get out without notice. Red Robin goes about his business once Peter is in bed for at least an hour, convinced that he’s in dreamland, safe and sound. Then Peter suits up, attaches the Jumping Radar to his wrist, and sneaks out the window.

He avoids working where the Bats’ watchful eyes might see him. They have a system in place, and it’s honestly pretty decent and hard to work around. But he does, because that’s what he’s good at. And he has the advantage of higher senses.

Signal patrols during evenings and daytime, mostly in Fashion and Diamond districts. He isn’t hard to avoid, because Peter is himself during the daytime. Red Hood is based in Crime Alley- which only affirms that they stalk Peter, because Peter is based in the Upper East Side, across a river. This is where Batman and Robin (Peter thinks Robin might be around his age) usually are.

Red Robin is also in Crime Alley, but he mostly sticks to the Bowery (which is right next to Crime Alley), and he patrols Burnley as well. Peter doesn’t go near those places even as Spider-Man, but he might have to at some point if he doesn’t spot Ohnn in the other districts.

Spoiler sticks to Old Gotham, Chinatown, and the Tri-Corner. Nightwing patrols the University, Coventry, and Upper West Side when he’s here- there are absences that he takes note of, and he’s heard from Benny that Nightwing mostly belongs to a city named Bludhaven. And though they all have their preferred districts, they meet up with each other in certain zones. Probably to relay information to each other.

Though in the last week, there’s been more of a scatter to their routines. Peter supposes it could be due to him telling Red Hood about Ohnn. It would make sense that they want to catch a meta with a dangerous device that makes him hard to catch, who is trying to steal money and parts off of people. But it could also be due to one of those other villains getting out.

Peter thinks the guy is named Killer Croc, and that is tons cooler than “Leap Frog” in his opinion. That Arkham Asylum place is always losing their charges, and Peter thinks they should look into getting that place more security.

But that isn’t his business. Right now, Peter is focused on catching Ohnn. He had to learn their schedules in order to do that, because he doesn’t want to waste time getting into a potential fight with the vigilantes over territories or whatnot.

And that means Peter gets to practice his stealth.

He has to go out into the open when stopping a mugging, a carjacking, whatever pops up into the night. But the moment it has died down, Peter slinks back into the shadows between buildings. Just like he is right now.

Only, that’s because there’s a certain Robin around these parts.

The University District looks different at night. Even though the Gotham Public Library is an empty void, that doesn’t mean the rest of the district is. During the daytime, the streets can be filled with people going about their business. There’s the university, the mall center, and Gotham Hospital all right there, leaving a constant buzz of activity.

But not at night. At night, it becomes students passing from bar to bar, risking their lives to get drunk, because Gotham is that bad, but they don’t seem to care. Peter will never understand alcohol.

He means it. Not just because he’s 14, and he has a memory Aunt May letting him taste a sip and it being so nasty he swore alcohol off for the rest of his life, but also because his metabolism would never allow it. And, well… He doesn’t have the best of luck with those who drink alcohol around him.

Peter presses himself against the wall, his back feeling the shiver of the cold stone and brick. The sky is thick with the smell of coming rain, and Peter wonders if his patrol is going to be cut short tonight. There’s a bar filled with drunk uni students below, but Peter is only focused on the whisper of ‘close near where close near’ in his spider-sense.

He figured out what it’s trying to tell him as he leaped over to the next building. Peter’s ears prick at the groaning sounds from a block or two over, and he crawls up to the roof above him just as a rumble shakes the foundations. The hair on his body stands up at attention, trembling with the air around him, and then:

BOOM?

BOOM!

A dust cloud rises from a few blocks over, car alarms rip through the night. The smoke thickens in the air and a loud roar echoes over the Gotham streets. The bar-hoppers scurry to get inside in a drunken panic, pushing each other out of the way. Peter jogs to the other end of the building, ready to jump off the side- when he remembers why he was hiding in the first place.

hello!

Peter ducks down just in time, swerving to see the flash of blue and black in the light. The Robin he was hoping to avoid has sprung into action with a graceful sweep through the air. Peter sinks into the shadows of the building, only to find his eyes drawn to how the Robin swings.

It’s different than the others. Though Peter has only seen glimpses in the night, he knows that Nightwing- he doesn’t just swing like the others. It’s an act. A catch and throw game that he’s playing, like an inside joke. Peter’s eyes are glued to it, wondering if he looks the same.

His feet move without him telling them to, and he doesn’t stop. He follows Nightwing, curiosity eating away at him. How does he move like there’s no air around him? It’s so effortless, like he’s on strings, but he isn’t.

Peter hops over a water silo and pads along the side of a building, wondering how close is too close before he’s spotted. It’s a chase between the two vigilantes, one unaware that the other has spotted the show.

It’s- It’s like a performer.

Peter recalls watching his father’s tapes of his grandparents. They were trapeze artists, gymnasts who spent their whole lives training to fly. His father died before he got to show Peter the videos that he had, but Ben found them in the attic one day. They set up the old VHS tapes, and Peter savored the quality of the video, looking back in time like it was a storybook.

He wanted to fly like that. Maybe that’s why a part of Peter enjoys being Spider-Man so much. He doesn’t know where those old videos had ended up; probably somewhere in a box in the storage unit for Ben or his father. But Peter followed along to their performances and pretended he was one of them enough times for him to memorize a few of their moves.

Of course, back then, he had asthma and a penchant for breaking anything he touched or looked at. He wasn’t holding out hopes that he could be a gymnast, not in reality. The dream had crashed before it even started. They were poor before Aunt May died, then they were poor after. His foster-families certainly never even considered letting Peter take a lesson, though that is due to Peter never mentioning it. They wouldn’t have even if they had known.

But now? Peter savors the feeling, tries to get closer and closer to the people he only got to know through their videos. He always wondered what his dad saw, if he had ever watched the home tapes.

Nightwing swings like that. With practiced ease of a trapeze artist, a professional who’s done this since birth.

Peter wants to get closer. He smiles when he notices the flips are just for fun- maybe his way of getting amped up before he throws himself into a fight. Peter does something similar.

So he dares. He dares to get closer, to step right next to the light. He runs, hopping over windows and ducking under pipes, leaping over boxes and stretching to keep up. Peter flies, holding his breath as he gets to the ends of the block, where he has to cut off before Nightwing would surely notice. He stands on the precipice, toeing the edge of the line, leaning forward as his hand sticks to the wall behind him. Peter wonders if the chips in the roofs he comes across are caused by years of swinging around Gotham.

Just one more second. Just to see what he’ll do.

Nightwing’s grappling hook sinks into the building ahead of him. His feet push out in front of him, mid swing and Peter watches the anticipation to his next trick-

WRONG! broken! catch! HELP!

Peter shakes his head as the spider-sense hits him full force. He lets go of the wall, eyes trained on Nightwing, then flicking his gaze up at the grappling hook just as the roof it had sunk into crumbles underneath it.

His strong suits are speed and stealth. Stealth that hides him in the night, able to follow someone as they leap through the air. And speed- that accounts for most of what Peter can do.

Time slows down for Peter.

He’s noticed it before, or rather, he was told about it. What looks like seconds to an outside observer feels like a minute for Peter. Thoughts rattling around his head and screaming- it’s why he rambles so much. Or maybe the rambling is helped along by the time being slowed.

Nightwing’s fall is slow, Peter’s thoughts are loud, and his reaction time is unmatched.

His feet dig into the stone as he drops to a runner’s start. He attaches two webs to the solid brick of the building, and pushes off to jump underneath Nightwing’s trajectory. Air whips around him with a sharp cutting noise as Peter lands on the side of the opposite building on the other side of the street, sticking to the wall. He feels the tug of the web and all of the hair on his body stands on end.

!!Caught Caught Caught!!

Peter sticks the other end of the webbing against the wall. He stands up, looking sideways to see Nightwing had landed on his back in the webbing-net he made. The buzzing in his head dissipates the moment Nightwing is safe.

Safe and confused, actually.

“What the…”

Peter strides across the spider-silk, balancing on the rope and standing at the base of the web that turns into net. The webbing doesn’t move underneath his feet, the only vibrations coming from the struggling vigilante.

Nightwing is sinking into the webbing, attempting to roll over and get out. His mouth is hung open in surprise, pulling at his hands and feet only to find they can’t budge. Peter lets out a giggle on accident- it’s always a little amusing to watch people react to the webbing for the first time.

Nightwing startles and turns his head backwards to view Peter upside down-ish, jaw dropped and trying to tilt his head to see him.

“Nice to see you drop by.” Peter tilts his head, holding his hands together in front of him. Peter waves by wiggling his fingers, sinking into a crouch to view Nightwing closer. It’s weird to see the vigilante while in his own suit, with him having no idea that Peter is Spider-Man. Boy is he glad for his voice modulator right now.

“You- Hey, you’re that Spiderkid,” Nightwing points out.

“Uh, yeah, I am. But the name’s Spider-Man. The ‘man’ is important to me.”

“Is it?” Nightwing tries to free his hand from the web, and Peter scooches back just in case the guy his harboring secret abilities and he manages to get out. “Is this what you’re doing in Gotham? Catching other vigilantes that drop out of the sky?”

“It’s what I’m doing right now.” Peter grins, though the other can’t see behind his mask. He really should add that eye feature so it’s noticeable. “You should be careful where you aim that grappling hook.”

“So you’ve never done the same with your webs?”

“Nope.” Peter pops the ‘p.’ “But I can see why you did it.”

Nightwing scoffs, though it sounds like he’s laughing. That’s good, at least. “Well, SpiderMan, how long am I supposed to be in this web?”

Peter hums again, standing up and turning to look down the street. He can hear another roar rip across the night, and smell the fire as an old building crumbles away. He shouldn’t stall the man any further.

“If you promise to be chill, I’ll let you out right now.” Peter says, pointing the way Tony does when he wants to get a point across. That’s how adults speak to each other, right? “Otherwise, it’ll dissolve in 30 minutes.”

“30 minutes!?” Nightwing gawks at him, attempting to sit up and then realizing he can’t. “Why wouldn’t I be chill?”

“Uh, you’d be surprised how many vigilantes get mad when you’re in their territory. I don’t feel like being shot or stabbed again, I’m kinda busy.” Peter says, and Nightwing’s brows furrow. Is he squinting at Peter?

“How long have you been a vigilante?”

“A while.” Peter states vaguely. “Do you want out or not?”

Nightwing huffs, as if really debating it. “What are you in Gotham for?”

“Business.” Peter starts walking backwards along the rope. “Going once…”

“Business? What kind?”

“Hey, man, I’m not here to do anything stupid. Just got my own stuff to worry about, and then I’ll be outta your hair. Going twice…” Peter raises his voice a little higher, taking another big step backward.

Nightwing groans, staring at his hands and feet. It’s pointless to thrash around, there’s no way he’s getting out until it dissolves. Peter knows what is more important- but he seriously doesn’t want to get into another turf war. He got tired the first time around.

“Goinnnnnnng-”

“Alright, alright, I wouldn’t attack you.” Nightwing promises. “I won’t. Please let me out?”

Peter doesn’t sense an untruth. And he also doesn’t want to leave Nightwing in the webbing that long, not when people are in danger. He nods, satisfied with that. He’s already seen that he’s faster than Nightwing, so if he tries to attack, Peter will run.

He’s running anyways.

Peter presses a button on his webshooter, spraying out the web dissolvant around Nightwing. Before he can fall through, Peter catches the man’s wrist, thwips another web on the lamp post, and they swing down to the pavement.

Peter drops him safely to the ground, using the momentum of the swing to flip backwards onto the top of the lamppost. He spares one more glance at Nightwing- don’t ask him to teach you anything- before he leaps upwards towards a building.

“See ya!”

Nightwing had just turned around to reply when Peter had slunk back into the shadows. The only evidence he was there is a web in the wind.

Peter hops between two buildings, barely looking back at where he left Nightwing and rising up towards the roofs again a few blocks away. He scatters into the wind, putting more and more distance between him and the rampaging villain and the vigilantes.

He falls off of the side of one building, recalling how Nightwing did a certain flip… He itches to try it out as he plummets closer to the ground.

Just once won’t kill him, right?

He thwips out his webbing, pulling himself up at the last second. He attempts to copy the other vigilante, burning the steps into his head much the same that he burned the old TV with the image of his grandparents’ tapes of their gymnastic routines. He holds on through the low point of the drop, brings himself upwards, and flips forwards.

He releases himself into the air as he turns upside down- his mind stalling with the view of the city reaching towards the sky. When he’s right side up again, he lifts his legs up to his chest, and thwips out a new web to swing upside down.

Peter lets out a whoop as he flips backwards during the swing, catching himself with another web and circling around a block corner. That’s way more fun than he thought it would be!

He’s about to try it again when the Jumping Radar beeps out at him.

Peter lands on the side of a building, sticking his back and his feet to the wall and lifting his wrist to see what he’s got. His pulse quickens as he spots a turbulence of air down the block. He only has seconds to act!

He leaps off the side, swinging over to the direction just as a flash of light appears. He thwips a web to Ohnn’s foot, yanking the man upward into the air as soon as he jumps.

Ohnn lets out a screech of terror, grabbing at the webbing and attempting to pull it off his foot. Spider-Man lands on the ground and yanks Ohnn down into the street. He hits the ground with a THUNK, but scrambles up so quickly that Spider-Man curses.

So he needs to put even more strength behind his attacks? That could get dangerous, if Spider-Man isn’t careful.

Ohnn manages to get the first webbing off of his foot, but Spider-Man sticks another webbing onto his chest, pulling him closer and spinning in a circle. Ohnn holds on to the webbing, cursing at Spider-Man over the wind. Spider-Man grits his teeth and lets go when Ohnn’s body gains enough momentum, slamming Ohnn into an unoccupied building.

The wall starts to crumble and Spider-Man curses, leaping over there and starting to web up the wall. He didn’t know the hit would be that bad!

Ohnn, though, is getting up as if the hit had never happened. He’s brushing off his clothes and spitting at Spider-Man, pointing up at him and bellowing out, “YOU ROTTEN THING!”

“Well, that wasn’t very nice.” Spider-Man drops into the alley, stretching his arms and holding back a shuttery breath. “You should watch how you talk to people.”

You can do this, Spider-Man. He tells himself, bouncing on his toes. No one can hurt Spider-Man. You always get back up.

“What’s your f*ckin’ problem, Spidey!? Huh!?” Ohnn shrieks at him, stumbling around the alley like a drunk. Spider-Man tilts his head, confused by how… un-put together he is. He knew the man was looney-toones, but to be this out of it? It’s like the man is off kilter, always leaning towards the side. He only manages to stay upright by luck, flopping around instead.

“My problem is you. Give me that tech and I’ll stop chasing you.”

“It’s MINEEEE!” Ohnn caws, almost whines, seizing his own wrist and shaking it out as if to taunt Spider-Man. “You can’t HAAAAVE it! No one can, I worked too hard on it!”

“You’re gonna hurt yourself or someone else with that thing!” Spider-Man argues, taking a step forward. Ohnn yelps and takes a step backwards, tripping over his foot. “You already-”

“I am NOT giving up now!” Ohnn protests, shaking his head violently. “I spent so many years on this! Everyone laughed at me, you know! You-You probably are laughing at me too! But I did it! I created the ability to travel dimensions! MY name will be in history books EVERYWHERE!”

He turns his back to Spider-Man.

NOW!

Spider-Man lifts his wrists to attack, but Ohnn’s head whips 180 degrees to stare at Peter, his body still facing in the other direction. Spider-Man’s heart sinks and he stumbles backwards, unfortunately gagging at the sight. “EW!”

“YOU!!!” Ohnn screams, turning his body around. His face contorts with rage, and his senses scream RUN OUT NOW GO RUN AWAY NO GO- “YOU! YOU AREN’T TAKING IT FROM ME!”

“We’ll see about that!” Spider-Man runs towards him, and Ohnn reaches out with both hands to grab at him. He lunges towards Spider-Man, but he hits the deck and slides underneath the leap. He webs the man’s shirt again and pulls, smacking Ohnn’s forehead against the pavement.

He jumps up and flips, pulling Ohnn back out into the street. Ohnn rolls over with inhuman speed, hissing at Spider-Man and snapping the web. He jumps to his own feet, and in a bright flash of light, disappears in the air.

The Jumping Radar doesn’t let him down, not this time. Spider-Man knows where he’s going to appear- exactly above and behind him.

SIDE!

Spider-Man ducks to the side, narrowly missing a hand grabbing for his throat. Spider-Man webs his back, risking how close he has to get to Ohnn in order to pull the gauntlet off of his arm. Ohnn kicks at him as Spider-Man reaches around his arm, and he feels a tug at his gut as the gauntlet teleports them.

Spider-Man sucks in a breath as they appear on a roof, and Ohnn snatches at his wrist, throwing Spider-Man over his shoulder. Spider-Man lands on his back so hard that the air is knocked out of him. Spider-Man shakes his head, kicking up and slamming his heel into Ohnn’s throat.

Ohnn gags, wheezing for air and grabbing at his throat. His eyes widen as he backs away from Spider-Man, who flips up onto his feet. He points at the Jumping Radar, hissing out, “WHAT is that! What did you do!?”

“You aren’t the only genius in the universe, jerk.” Spider-Man jumps forward, punching Ohnn in the face. Ohnn blocks the next hit, swinging one of his own. Spider-Man leans backwards to dodge it, gritting his teeth as he puts his hand on the ground. He kicks Ohnn’s stomach as hard as he can without killing him, and the man flies backwards.

“URGH! DIE ALREADY, YOU NASTY BUG!”

“I’m an arachnid!” Spider-Man yells back. But his voice is caught in his throat as his spider-sense rings out:

BAD BAD BAD

Huh?

Ohnn’s nails contort on his hands, sharp talons… no. No, those aren’t talons. Ohnn’s fingernails look like the fangs of a snake. Chills run down Spider-Man’s body, and he backs away a good fifteen steps as Ohnn strikes, fast like a-

Like a snake!

Spider-Man has to leap off of the building in order to avoid the fangs from digging into his skin. Ohnn howls in a fury, jumping after him. Spider-Man’s heart races, trying to think of a clear way to get close without getting touched by those things. He rolls into the busier street-

BUSIER STREET.

sh*t!

Spider-senses and the Jumping Radar scream at the same time. Spider-Man looks up, down, around, until his eyes land on the spot that he’s about to appear. People are pointing to him in the street, phones are getting pulled out, and others are starting to run in the other direction.

BUS BUS BUS GET BUS

“I know!” Spider-Man growls at himself. Ohnn appears next to a bus, hitting the back tire.

His super strength makes the bus rear forward, the front end careening towards the street filled with pedestrians. Spider-Man jumps into the fray, noting the ash that whips into the wind.

Spider-Man webs the street and a light pole, leaping through the way of the bus. He digs his feet into the ground and pulls back as the bus pushes through the webbing, the tires squealing and citizens shrieking as their lives flash before their eyes. Spider-Man grits his teeth, pulling the bus back before it can slam into the sidewalk.

Silence rings out as he lets go of the webbing. He turns on his heel, hopping over the bus and to the side with the doors. He opens the doors with one hand, dashing up the stairs. “Is everyone okay!?”

Safe, safe, safe, worried, safe, hurt-

Peter checks on each seat inside the bus. The worst injury was a broken wrist of an elderly woman in the middle of the bus. Peter sighs in relief as he kneels next to her, citizens craning their heads and leaning over the seats to watch Spider-Man.

He doesn’t have a first aid kit on him right now, but her wrist doesn’t look too bad. To be sure, Peter should brace it temporarily.

“Miss, the webbing is gonna feel weird, but it’ll prevent the break from getting worse until the ambulance arrives.” Peter informs her. The old woman smiles at him, reaching with her good hand to pat his head.

“Oh, you’re such a sweet young man!” She coos, and Peter is glad the mask prevents him from getting more embarrassed by his red face. “You were so brave!”

“Yeah, that was sick as f*ck!” A little boy shouts, jumping to see Peter over the seat with stars in his eyes. “Y’ran out in front of the bus so fast!”

“And you caught us, like it was nothin’!” A woman adds on, and Peter shakes his head. He slings the woman’s wrist, and another voice calls out to him.

“Hey, kid, who are ya?” It’s a familiar voice. Peter’s eyes widen as he looks at the face of the man that he first saw when he got to Gotham, the man with the paper who directed him to the library. Bus Stop Guy sits up out of his seat, his hat askew and dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. “Are you with the Bats and Robins?”

“Yeah, are ya? I’ve never seen ya before!” A teenager asks.

“I saw ‘im on Twitta!”

“It’s called-”

“Twitta!” An older woman interrupts. “I thought he looked familiar!”

Peter stands up, making his way towards the front of the bus as they call out to him. A quick glance outside tells him that they’re all safe and accounted for as well. Peter relaxes his shoulders, looking back at the bus-riders.

“I’m Spider-Man.” He tells them, glad that they’re alright. “I’m not a Bat or a Robin. But we’re on the same team. Ish.”

“Well, whatever y’are, I’m glad y’were here!” The bus driver wipes his brow, fanning his face to calm down. “Can we-”

“I gotta get going, everybody.” Peter says, and the young boy whines in protest. “Vigilante duties call! I’m glad you’re all okay!”

“Bye, Spider-Man!” Someone shouts as he exists the bus, and he hears more calls as he swings out of the street.

Peter collapses onto a nearby roof, groaning with slightly sore muscles. It was harder to stop that bus than it should have been. He isn’t eating enough for his metabolism. It’s making him slower, making him weaker.

Making him more like Peter.

But we are Peter.

“Just great,” Peter sits up, his head in his hands. “He’s a snake mutant. Just perfect.”

Peter isn’t so sure what would win between a snake and a spider. But he’s sure as hell going to make sure it’s the spider this time. He was hoping that Ohnn was a reptilian mutant, not a serpent. Serpents move quicker.

The nail fangs… and that NECK THING. Peter shivers, resisting the urge to get a little sick. That was nasty, he can’t believe that Ohnn can do that.

Peter almost had him this time, though. If only he hadn’t led Ohnn to such a busy street. Maybe he can lure Ohnn somewhere more abandoned, next time? Ugh, this is all so disheartening. Yet again, Ohnn got away because he missed something.

??? Hey now who???

He sits up, turning to see what is causing his spider-sense to tingle. There’s nothing there… He jumps to his feet, walking around the roof curiously. What could he be missing? Is someone-

Someone is watching him.

He freezes as he spots them. It’s a Bat he doesn’t recognize, mostly hidden in shadow, save for her hand. As if she wanted him to see her. Shivers run down his spine, trying to listen for a sign of her. Even her heartbeat is quiet, as if she knew how to silence it.

What is she doing there? How long as she been watching him?

She steps out of the shadows, a curious lean to her body language. She’s studying him.

Her costume is familiar, if only because it’s as hidden as Batman’s in the night. Dark as the sky and shadows, a mask that resembles Batman’s, a cape that swishes out as she stalks over the roofs. And a proud yellow and black bat symbol on her chest, clearly making a statement that she wanted him to know. I’m here, and I was seeing you.

How long as she been in the city? The entire time? Peter had not once noticed her here, and he thought he had noticed everyone. The idea that she could know everything makes his stomach churn.

She doesn’t approach him. Instead, she waves goodbye, and sinks back into the shadows.

-

“You’re late!” Red Hood hisses through the comms as Nightwing swings into the fight. Killer Croc meets wall to snout with a resounding SMACK, missing Red Hood by a thread. The wall crumbles overhead, crushing Killer Croc’s head beneath the stone. He isn’t down, not yet, because he’s still thrashing around and trying to get out.

The street is a mess by the time Nightwing gets there, though it probably already was the second Killer Croc finally started his rampage. He’ll have to use Bruce’s card to help with the clean up when the fight is over. It certainly didn’t help that Nightwing was a minute behind on getting there- but at least he didn’t come empty handed.

“I ran into that SpiderMan.” Nightwing informs them, landing on a car that had been busted in.

“You what?” Red Robin nearly stops himself mid swing to whirl around at Nightwing, but he flips and lands on the street to hide behind a car. Red Hood ducks behind the car Nightwing is standing on, one hand reaching into his utility belt to grab at the tranq gun they keep on them just for this. “You’ve gotta be f*cking kidding me. What happened? What did he say?”

“SpiderMan?” Red Hood huffs, clicking the safety off of the tranq gun as Killer Croc unearths himself from the rubble. “That his name? He looks like a baby, from what I heard.”

“It’s very important to him that we use the ‘man.’” He repeats. But he agrees with Red Hood. The kid was around Damian’s age, and that certainly isn’t a man. SpiderBoy would be more accurate.

“Well?” Red Robin is aiming his own tranq gun at the soft spots in Croc’s armored skin. The tranqs bounce off, just missing the areas by a thread. He sounds just as aggravated now as everyone has heard him when the topic of Spider-Man is brought up. “What did he say? What was he like? Should we be worried? Did he explain himself?”

Killer Croc rears around like a bull, grabbing rubble off of the ground as a precursor to smacking them over the head with it. Red Robin curses and flips off of the car, running to hide as Killer Croc aims for Nightwing and his spots. Nightwing ducks away, spotting Red Hood running towards Croc’s blindspot.

“I think he’s funny,” Nightwing comments, and he hears Red Robin groan in their comms as he gets out of range.

“That sounds like hell.”

“He also kinda saved my ass back there.” Nightwing reaches into his utility belt, hand brushing past the grappling hook. “My hook snagged on a bad part of a building and I almost ate it on the pavement.”

He ignores the fact that his hands had shaken for a minute, after realizing how bad it could have been. Just like-

“He caught you?” Red Hood grunts as he ducks out of the way of Croc’s claws. They slice through a light pole and the pole careens into the window of a shop.

“He made a net with that spider-webbing that people keep mentioning.” Nightwing aims his tranq at the underside of Croc’s armpit. Tranq sinks into flesh, but Croc still isn’t done. He needs another tranq before that can happen. “It was pretty cool, if unpleasant to touch.”

“So what’s his deal?” Red Robin grows impatient.

“Wouldn’t tell me.” Nightwing rolls towards a trash can as Croc sniffs out where the tranq had come from. “But he swears he isn’t here for trouble.”

“Do we really think it’s a coincidence he arrived around the same time that Ohnn guy showed up?” Red Robin sneaks around to Croc’s blind side, gritting his teeth when Croc abruptly changes course and heads his way. “Aw, sh*t.”

Red Hood uses this to his advantage, tranq bullet biting into the back of Croc’s knee. Croc stumbles down and Red Robin leaps over his head, seconds away from Croc snapping down and biting his foot.

Croc rolls over as Red Robin puts another tranq into his side- just in case. They pause for a few moments, watching as his breathing gets slower and slower. Eventually, it puts to a slow sleeping sigh, and they release their fighting stances.

The other two vigilantes are far more out of breath than Nightwing is, putting in more work than he had. He bites down his worry, knowing that one wouldn’t appreciate it and the other would just tell him to keep it to himself or die.

Brothers… Why can’t they just let him fuss over them?

“I don’t know if it’s a coincidence or not. But I don’t think he was lying to me.” Nightwing admits. He puts his hands on his hips as Red Robin waves down the street. The police that had held back during the fight now come rushing forward, so they have to get out.

Their trio hurries out of police reach, observing from the top of a building to make sure nothing goes wrong with transport. At least until Killer Croc inevitably gets his way out of Arkham again, they don’t have to worry.

Red Robin sits on the building, catching his breath and mulling this over as his legs dangle on the side. “Batgirl is out tonight. Maybe she’ll get a chance to figure out what SpiderMan is up to. If him being here is related to Ohnn, and he isn’t a threat to us, then we should try and work with him.”

“I wonder if he knows anything about Peter and Tony.” Red Hood’s comment lets slip another frustrated groan from Red Robin.

“I would love if someone could have any idea about those two.”

“I take it nothing has come up still?” Nightwing sits down next to him. He hopes that Peter is staying inside right now, and isn’t out doing who knows what- like following dangerous men in the streets and stumbling across bleeding vigilantes again.

He still doesn’t understand that. Why would Peter make a decision like that? Unless he thought that Ohnn wouldn’t hurt him? But Ohnn certainly proved that he could and would, no matter what Peter tries to tell them. He’s alleviating their worry for no reason- it’s their job to take down bad guys who pull this crap.

He just has to get them closer as civilians. If they can gain Peter’s trust… maybe they could take Peter in?

No, no. He wants Peter to have a normal childhood. Even if it means they don’t get to see it. It would be awful to drag another kid into this world, risking their life every day and night.

But the idea of Peter sitting at home with them doesn’t sound bad. Not at all.

“Nothing, nada, zilch. A big fat goose egg of nothing.” Red Robin complains, laying back on the roof with his arms above his head. “But him being right about Ohnn and clearly having gotten his ass kicked gives him some credibility.”

“You think he’s lying?”

Nightwing knows it comes out funny, because-

“You think he isn’t?” Red Robin sits up again, gawking at Nightwing. “Blue…”

“Look, I know he’s keeping secrets, but I don’t think he is responsible for Ohnn. I think he’s really gotten mixed up in something because of this Tony guy. And Peter is just trying to defend him, even if he shouldn’t.”

None of them can argue with that. It sounds right on the money.

Ba-ding.

Red Robin’s lip curls in displeasure. “That’s your notification noise? What is wrong with you?”

“I like this one,” Nightwing pulls out his phone. “It sounds like a little bird with a bell.”

“Everything is wrong with you.” Red Hood has his own phone out, scrolling through the Batchat like Nightwing. He pauses, and lets out a laugh, pointing at his phone and showing them the screen. “You seein’ this?”

Nightwing is seeing this.

Cass has sent a video of SpiderMan in their chat.

It starts with a frame of Nightwing in the background, SpiderMan leaving him behind. Cass follows in the shadows, keeping an eye on him. SpiderMan swings- Wow. Nightwing can’t help but grin.

He knew that SpiderMan had to have been nearby to be able to catch him, but he didn’t know that SpiderMan had been watching him long enough to see what he was doing while swinging around. It’s the exact same swinging that Nightwing was having fun with before the grappling hook gave in.

“Huh…” Nightwing watches. The kid is a natural. He picked up the moves incredibly fast, if he hasn’t done it before. Nightwing is surprised, but pretty impressed that he pulled it off so easily. Maybe even a little jealous.

And he grins wider when he hears SpiderMan let out a little whoop as he swings. He’s having just as much fun as Nightwing does when he can pull off that move.

“He’s just like Blue over here…” Red Robin complains. “Look at him, showing off like that. No wonder you like him.”

“He’s having fun,” Nightwing defends, laughing as SpiderMan takes the corner, and Cass struggles to keep up even with her training. The kid is fast, even faster than Nightwing thought.

“Whoa…” Red Hood stares at his phone. “That was impressive.”

“Hey, spoiler alert!” Red Robin shushes him. “I’m behind you!”

“This kid…” Red Hood shakes his head, taunting Red Robin, who complains again. “Watch how fast he can change direction.”

Nightwing does watch, and he’s just the same amount of impressed. The kid fights like nobody’s business, keeping up with- “That’s Ohnn!” -despite the man being a meta.

“So SpiderMan and Ohnn do have something to do with each other.” Red Robin whistles. “But at least they’re enemies. This is looking good… Damn! Did you see that kick to the stomach!? He has better balance than you do, Blue!”

Nightwing checks the messages underneath the video.

Cass [11:39PM]: :thumbsup:

Duuuuke [11:43PM]: holy moly this guy is fast

Duuuuke [11:43PM]: like wtf

Damian [11:44PM]: Did you see him swing that man around like he is a hammer thrower in the Olympics?

Damian [11:44PM]: I demand we search for him immediately.

Duuuuke [11:45PM]: I mean yeah we need to and Tim is doing that but why?

Damian [11:45PM]: Father must convince him to join the team. At least to spar with me.

Duuuuke [11:46PM]: I doubt that it would be THAT easy

Bruce [11:47PM]: :thumbsup:

Duuuuke [11:47PM]: wow. it was that easy

Damian [11:48PM]: YES

Duuuuke [11:48PM]: wait aren’t you supposed to be getting to bed

Damian [11:50PM]: Aren’t you supposed to learn to mind your business?

Duuuuke [11:50PM]: WOOOOOOOW you’re just gonna hate crime me, huh?

Damian [11:51PM]: Deal with it, or die. Not my problem.

-

Peter is growing more and more tired by the day. Not just mentally tired (though it certainly is hitting the hardest), but physically tired too.

His enhanced metabolism is meant for five meals a day, technically speaking. But there isn’t enough time in the world normally for him to eat that much, let alone in an alternate universe where he’s homeless again. There’s no way he’s going to bother Benny for food like that, not a chance. Benny’s is struggling to get customers (despite that the place has the best burger this side of Gotham ((Peter would have no idea if that’s true. He’s only tried Benny’s and he has a bias.))

In his own universe, he eats bigger dinner proportions and has snacks during the day to tide him over. “To keep your growing spiders strong and healthy.” Pepper would remind him, when Peter said it was too much (it wasn’t). FRIDAY was the one who had to remind Tony and Peter both when it was time to eat and sleep. They’d just get caught up in a whirlwind of ideas and projects, and when that happened, time would stop existing for them.

But no matter what, he was getting enough to eat for the first time in a long time. And now? He certainly isn’t eating as much as he should be even if he had a normal metabolism, and it’s starting to affect him.

Peter noticed it during his fight with Ohnn two nights ago, when he caught that bus. He’s growing weaker, and what is crazy to him is that he would never have noticed that he wasn’t eating enough if his body hadn’t gotten used to eating the proper amount. He fights just like before, but he can tell how fast he could be now.

He arrived in this world on October 2nd, and today is October 18th. The more time he spends here, the weaker he is getting. But he doesn’t have the money or resources to eat as much as he should.

So what he can’t make up for in strength because he’s getting weaker, he has to make up for in smarts. And that means sacrificing his emergency money to get cheap hardware for a lab in his room, because he certainly can’t update the Jumping Radar without proper equipment. It’s a miracle he got what he did without a proper soldering iron.

The Jumping Radar could be improved if Peter were to accurately detect when Ohnn first appears, and how far the radius of his jumps can spread. He only ever seems to make small jumps, and then the dimensional jumps, differentiated by a flash of bright light verses turning to ash. And the black out- Peter should start looking out for that, maybe he’ll be able to see it on the news? Benny has a TV…

Peter just has to make better tech, and he could get Ohnn on the ropes… And get better armor. Those fang nail things were no joke.

His current suit is made out of Kevlar and spandex, with a layer of fabric over the top made out of high-strength spider silk that makes it hard to cut. Peter’s had several suits over the years, but before Tony, all he had was spandex he had to save up for, and it wasn’t as reliable because it could get ripped. But there isn’t enough Kevlar or spider-silk in his suit to resist the super strength that Ohnn has, and those claws could find a way to scratch Peter. He isn’t eager to see what kind of venom the guy is packing in that punch. So he might need to lose some flexibility and start adding on body armor.

Which costs money.

That Peter doesn’t have.

There’s so much he needs to account for, that it’s driving him crazy! He’s always been painfully aware of grocery prices, but when he’s working on a budget that maybe expands $20 or less every other day, it feels impossible.

Peter stares at the line of hardware equipment in front of him, debating on how much $367 can get him. The hardware store that he found is in the Upper East End, thankfully, because while Peter is looking for cheap stuff, he wasn’t planning to go to the Bowery to find something cheaper. So if he hadn’t found one here, he would have had to go to Old Gotham or the other, more expensive, districts in order to find something.

So here he is, standing in a store and doing the math in his head about what he can afford to get.

And ugh… Peter is gonna have to give up on the body armor idea before he even gets started. Just looking at the prices for all of the stuff he needs is enough to cut that idea off completely. Peter ignores the sound of the bell at the front door in favor of biting his thumb nail and tapping his foot anxiously, squinting at the row of tools.

He has to focus on the Jumping Radar, he reasons. Body armor isn’t as much of a priority, he’ll just have to be more careful.

But what tools does he get? He got by with the tools that Benny had laying around, but he needs his own set if he wants to keep this thing running. Screwdrivers, pliers, wrenches, hammers, a new soldering iron, dremel tool, calipers, rulers, measuring tapes, multi meter, safety glasses, ear protection, gloves-

And then he’s gonna need electronic components, like wires, resistors, capacitors, a breadboard kit for prototyping and testing circuits without soldering- oh, man, he can only imagine how well the Jumping Radar could do with he had a 3D printer!

No no no, Peter, think about what you can do, and don’t cry about what you lost.

All of this adds up to stuff that he can’t afford, not with the amount he has. Maybe he should get back into the fixing-up business… That kind of work used to get him a good few hundred a week, just because he was in so much demand. Everyone always needs at least one thing fixed around their business or their house, and Peter was the one to call if you lived in Queens.

He could do a lot of that in Gotham. Everything needs fixing around here.

Peter bites the bullet and picks up a new soldering iron kit, a dremel tool, breadboard kit, a caliper, and a wrench kit, because he needs those the most. And for good measure he grabs goggles and headphones, muttering the math out loud.

Started with $367… ending up with about $177.89, if his math is right. Oh, but taxes… so around $175.

That’s not too bad. Peter stares at his basket of items, chewing on his bottom lip. He’ll have to save up what he gets from Benny… and he’ll have to start up his fixing up business, like he thought. He won’t get as much, because he’ll have to start with lower pricing, but he might not stand out too much if he risks it, and that’s enough to convince him to consider it. Maybe most people will leave him alone because of his age, like they did in New York.

But there is always a risk that he could pick the wrong client and they try to make him ‘work’ for them. Peter is well aware that some people would take advantage of his engineering habit. He should be careful about that, like always. He’s not going to get caught up in any sort of fishy business.

Benny has the rest of the tools he needs, and Benny never asks what he’s doing in there. His only rule was no drugs or funny business, and Peter is sure that the man probably tracks where his things are going to make sure Peter is following them.

It’s the only reason that Peter resists grabbing beakers so he can make his web fluid at Benny’s instead of sneaking into a school next time. Because there isn’t a lot of reason for him to have those lying around, and he can’t explain it away with ‘webbing.’

Peter checks his basket again, letting out a sigh as he walks down the aisle and closer to the windows.

October 18th. That’s 17 days he’s been here, and it’s getting colder outside. It’s starting to look like Peter might be spending Halloween here in Gotham… Tony, Pepper, and he were supposed to go to see a new scary movie that was coming out.

Maybe they’ll go without him…

Peter shakes his head. Colder. He’ll have to spend the rest of his money on getting a thicker coat, or two, because he’ll need one as Spider-Man. His suit doesn’t have a heating system or anything like that, because when he made it, he hadn’t thought about needing it. Tony said they would add it to his next suit.

Can $175 get him a new coat or two? Like, proper winter ones?

…watching…

He subtly turns to face the rack, looking out of his peripherals. There’s an older boy at the end of the aisle that doesn’t look like he’s watching Peter, but he’s the only other person in the store save for the cashier.

Peter pretends to look at a pack of brushes, kneeling down and wondering if he was just in the boy’s way. When the feeling doesn’t go away, and the guy just keeps inching closer to where Peter is, he finds it hard to believe that this guy is actually just paying attention to the shelves.

What could he want? Is he wondering why a 14 year old is getting stuff from a hardware store? Or is it something else?

As the boy gets closer, Peter stands up, setting the brush pack down and choosing to go to another aisle. He doesn’t want to deal with whatever this guy is up to. Apparently, that’s not what the guy wanted, because he suddenly blurts out:

“Hey, uh, do you know where to find the wrench kits?”

Peter and the boy stare at each other for a long stretch of silence. Peter’s gaze drifts to the wrench kit right in front of his face, then back to him. He’s familiar, now that he is getting a good look at the guy face to face…

“Wait, are you Coupon Guy?” Peter points at him, and the name immediately makes the guy’s face scrunch up.

“Yeah, uh, that’s me. I thought you looked familiar…” The boy rubs the back of his neck. So he had recognized Peter from the stairwell? Peter releases his guard, feeling much better knowing this isn’t going south. “Wrench kits?”

“Aisle three, middle shelf.” Peter grins cheekily.

Coupon raises a brow at the specificity, looking up to the aisle numbers to find that they are currently on aisle three. His eyes fall on the wrench kit in front of him, Peter sees his face fall somewhat, probably embarrassed. He’s 2-0 with Peter in the winning.

“Ah, right. Thanks.” Coupon does his best impression of someone who isn’t annoyed at all by this outcome.

“You’re welcome. Got any… coupons for that?” Peter grins up at him, and Coupon bites down a flash of amusem*nt. Peter thinks he’s missing out, he finds that joke to be delightful.

“Ah-haaa, funny, funny kid.” Coupon wags a finger at him, setting down the wrench kit and leaning on the shelf. “You know, I was just making sure a freshman wasn’t skipping class or whatever.”

“Are you like, a hall monitor or something?”

“No, just a concerned upperclassman.”

“Well, that’s sweet of you, Coupon.”

“Ok, enough of that. My name’s Tim,” Coupon reaches out to shake Peter’s hand. Peter hesitates, but he shakes his hand, trying to stay confident with a firm grip. “Tim Drake. You?”

“Peter.”

Tim tilts his head. “No last name?”

“You know you’re a stranger, right?” Peter replies, and Tim waves his hand dismissively.

“Pffft! You know my name and we go to school together, that makes us friends, not strangers.” He tells Peter, who could argue with the logic if he really wanted to, but it isn’t worth fighting over.

But… problem:Peter doesn’t know what to give.

Like he said earlier in his inner monologue-ing, with Red Hood, he’s been worried this entire time on what last name to give to people, just in case he has a counterpart in this world after all, or if the name goes back to someone. Peter Benjamin John Andrea Parker is pretty f*cking specific, but it’s not like he’s telling them his full name.

AGH, but Peter Parker could be enough to start looking through names and stuff like that, and if he gave any of his names, that’d be it. They’d find him through the real names that he has.

So that leaves him with using a different name, one that can’t be tied back to him. What about Stark? Or Potts? But Peter isn’t really their son and the idea is casted away as soon as he thinks it, accompanied by a sharp pain in his chest. Peter searches and searches through his mind for a single name, all in a millisecond as he feels time slow down around him.

Think, Peter, think!

“Grayson.” Peter replies.

It’s the first name he could think of. And now he’s stupidly said it, even after saying he wasn’t going to use a name connected to him in any way. ‘Grayson’ was the name his father had before he was adopted and wanted to change it, though Peter doesn’t know why it comes to him now. Something in Tim’s smile falls.

Peter has to commit, otherwise he looks like a liar.

“I’m Peter Grayson.”

“Peter, Grayson…?” Tim repeats, as if it meant something to him. Peter doesn’t have time to ask what that could be about, because he slips back into an easy-going smile. “Well, Peter, what’s a freshman doing at a hardware store on a Friday?”

He looks down at Peter’s basket, which feels personal, so Peter covers it with one arm without thinking. Tim doesn’t let it show if this bothered him or not. “What’s an upperclassman doing at a hardware store on a Friday?”

“Just grabbing a new wrench kit, my old one is missing a lot of pieces.” Tim tells him, selecting a kit off of the shelf. “I like taking things apart and putting them back together, but it’s hard if you’re missing some tools to do the job. Your turn.”

“I’m the same,” Peter finds himself feeling relaxed when he doesn’t sense a lie. Tim had opened the kit and looked inside, reaching for the smaller bits to count them out. Someone who has experience with tools would think about that, he thinks. Peter had done the same when picking out his own kits. “I figured I should stop borrowing my landlord’s tools. He’s nice, but he needs his stuff back.”

“What are you making?” Tim glances at his basket again.

“Clocks, radios, that kind of stuff. Sometimes I fix things for people, like fridges.” Peter shrugs, taking his own look at Tim’s items. He had picked out an Allen wrench set, a wire cutter, and a set of micro-controllers. “Whoa, are you making a robot?”

“Huh?” Tim blinks at him, glancing at his tools, and then back at Peter. His lips tug into a sly smile, his voice rising with interest. “Yeah, I am. You knew that based on the tools? Have you ever tried?”

“My dad taught me how to.” Peter bounces on his toes a little, recalling making Little Legs, and when he first met DUM-E in Tony’s lab. Little Legs must know that Peter is referring to it, because it wiggles in his jacket pocket and tickles Peter’s hand. “He has one that helps around his lab, he’s pretty cool to work with, if a little slow. He’s gonna teach me how to make a bigger one next time.”

If you get back.

Shut up.

“Is he an engineer?” Tim’s eyes are gleaming with something Peter can’t name.

“Yeah, uh, he is.” Peter can’t exactly tell Tim that Tony owns a billion-dollar company that doesn’t exist in his universe, but Tony is an engineer. “He knows, like, everything. He’s way smarter than I could ever be, but I can keep up I guess. What are you making?”

Tim has forgotten all about the wrenches. He sets them down in his basket, and Peter recognizes the spark of someone who’s just been asked about his engineering project. “Something like a roomba, but specifically to annoy my family.”

“What’s it gonna do? Clean up?”

“Oh, no no no, that would annoy Alfred if we tried to replace him with a robot. And it wouldn’t be nearly as good. Nah, I’m thinking I’ll make it to steal shoes around the house.”

He’s caught on the fact that Tim’s family might have a housekeeper (what the heck is this guy doing in the Upper East End?) but he forgets it as soon as he hears what it’ll be doing. It’s so specific, that Peter can’t suppress a giggle. “So, are you using wheels, tracks, or legs?”

“We have a lot of stairs around the house, so I scratched wheels off the list even if they were more simple. I’ll probably go for tracks and program it to avoid staircases. For now, I just wanna focus on getting the basics down. Like how it’s gonna pick up the shoes.”

“It could have a scooper.” Peter muses, wondering what he would use if it was him. “Though, the weight distribution would be a problem. Maybe the scooper could put the shoes on its back?”

“I hadn’t thought about that.” Tim blinks. “Jay wears some heavy boots…”

“So you’d have to teach it to recognize what’s too big for it carry.”

“Maybe if-”

“Timmy! There you are!” A girl calls out. Peter and Tim are both surprised by the interruption- Peter on account that he got so wrapped up that he hadn’t sensed her coming. He really has to stop doing that! A girl slings her arms around Tim’s neck, but it’s more like a chokehold than an affectionate gesture. Still, the blonde has a pretty smile as she chokes Tim to death. “You must have forgot we were with you, silly!”

“M-Mercy-” Tim pats her elbow.

Peter takes a step back, wary of the newcomer and her strength. Tim’s pale face grows a little red as the girl ignores him, instead smiling at Peter. There’s a boy next to her- Oh, it’s the same guy that Tim had been walking with on the stairs. He’s wearing another really nice winter coat.

“Hi!” The girl holds out one hand for Peter to shake, still locking Tim in the other. Her cheery disposition is rattled by the image of Tim’s almost murder. “I almost didn’t see you there. Are you a friend of Tim’s?”

“Well, that’s what he said, so I guess.” Peter shakes her hand politely. “Nice to meet you.”

“Gu-Guys,” Tim chokes out, and the girl finally lets him go. He breathes a sigh of relief, rubbing at his neck and standing up to shoot a glare in her direction. “Peter, this is Duke and Stephanie.”

“You’re Coupon’s friend from the stairs.” Peter grins at Duke. The other boy’s lips press into a line as tries not to laugh. Tim’s face reddens, shooting a scowl at Peter not uncommon for him to get.

Coupon just makes it so easy, how could he not?

“We’re gonna be good friends.” Duke affirms, patting Peter’s shoulder.

“Steph, Duke, this is Peter Grayson.” Tim tells them, and Peter again watches something flicker over their faces at his name.

Did he pick a weird last name or something? Or is Peter missing something?

Stephanie doesn’t hold it long. She instead coos at Peter, “So you must be the freshie that Duke told me about! They didn’t mention how adorable you are. Are you two done here? It’s around lunchtime, and I’m getting hungry.”

Tim nods, looking at his basket and sending Peter a Just Between Us kind of smile. Peter is stuck on Stephanie obviously teasing him by calling him ‘adorable’, because her smile is not unlike that of Tony’s when he does the same thing. “I’ve got everything I need. Pete, you hungry?”

“Oh, uh, I mean…” Peter glances outside. It is around the time that he needs to eat, but he’s spending the last of his emergency money on this shopping trip and getting some new winter coats. He has enough money to get food if he uses the $30 he got from helping Benny at the restaurant last night…

Peter sighs shortly. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Great!” Steph takes the basket off of Peter’s arm faster than he thought possible, and she shoves it into Tim’s hands. “You sound like you’re from New York. Are you new here? Have you tried BatBurger yet?”

“B-BatBurger?” Peter stammers. Tim is just as shocked as Peter, but Duke is snickering under his breath. Peter reaches for his basket, but Steph intertwines her arm with Peter’s and starts pulling him to the doors. “Uh, I didn’t check out yet-”

“Timmy can get it.” Steph replies, not missing a step in her sweet voice. Duke follows the pair of them, leaving Tim in the aisle with a doom cloud hanging overhead. He’s gawking at Steph as if she had just stolen Peter from him.

“But, it’s super expensive-”

“He can afford it, don’t worry about that.” Steph opens the door, the bell ringing loud in Peter’s ear as he watches Tim head for the register. Duke gives Peter a What Can You Do? shrug that leaves him baffled.

Are all Gotham people just this weird? Is this normal, to kidnap a 14 year old in broad daylight? And what if Tim snoops through his things? There’s nothing seriously incriminating, but what if!? He’s smart enough to figure out what Peter can do with all of that!

And also, Peter doesn’t want to have to pay him back! He has the money now, but what if he doesn’t in a few days (or, universe forbid, a few weeks)? Peter hates owing people money or favors!

“If you’ve never tried BatBurger,” Stephanie has no idea to his plight, merely dragging Peter along down the street. “-then you have to get the BatMeal first. Everyone does, so you can see what figure you get.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Stephanie finally looks down at him, giving his arm a playful squeeze. “It’s like Burger King, but it’s themed around Batman and the Robins. You know, Gotham’s very own vigilantes?”

“Oh, them.” Peter nods dumbly. He hadn’t seen a restaurant like that around here, but he also hasn’t been looking out for that during his stay. “So, a uh, BatMeal is like…”

“A kid’s meal. It comes with a little figurine of them, but you don’t get to pick who you get. It’s like one of those mystery game things. People try to collect them.” Duke explains, and Peter’s first thought:

“But they don’t have pictures on the wiki? Seriously? You’re telling me you guys have figurines of them, but no pictures.” Peter’s comment causes silence, but he doesn’t notice. “What, did they pose for them?”

“There’s pictures on social media.” Duke reasons as they turn the corner. “No one knows how accurate the figurines are unless they see them all the time or something. They could be all wrong.”

Peter looks over his shoulder, not able to sense Tim. “Shouldn’t we wait for Coupon? I’m starting to feel bad.”

“He knows where the nearest BatBurger is.” Steph waves it off. “And we aren’t too far away- See?”

Peter does see. He sees the weirdest restaurant he’s ever seen in his life. The outside looks like a blue and gray decommissioned Wendy’s- wait, do they have Wendy’s here?- and when they get inside, Peter thinks that he should have lied or ran away by now. It’s sort of weird to see images of the vigilantes on the wall when they enter, mostly because Peter has met them of them up close.

Though, now that Peter thinks about it…

“Peter, you good?”

Peter looks back at Stephanie. Behind her is a picture of Spoiler in action, a bat shaped boomerang in her hand. Next to it, Red Robin jumping from a building.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He smiles, but internally, his mind is racing.

Tim had looked familiar, but now that he thinks about it, it was more like the spider-sense he had gotten was familiar. Watching it had said, and Peter can’t help but wonder. Why had it felt the same as to when Peter felt Red Robin watching him from afar? Just more prominent?

Stephanie lets go of his arm, patting his head and telling Duke, “You guys go ahead and sit down, I’ll grab the food.”

“What?” Duke frowns, glancing from the seats to the order station.

worry?

Peter agrees. Duke’s brows are furrowed, and he glances at Steph’s side and back up again at her.

“Let me grab it, Steph. You and Peter can go sit down.” He insists. Stephanie looks like she wants to protest, but she doesn’t get a word in. Duke walks up to the counter instead, already saying hello to the tired man wearing a cheap BatMan mask.

Stephanie sighs, watching Duke’s back with narrowed eyes. Peter doesn’t say anything, instead watching her reaction. She does look tired, because if Peter looks closely, he can see makeup under her eyes, as if covering eye bags. She briefly touches her side as she thinks, finally turning to Peter.

Her eyes widen when she notices Peter watching her, so he smiles politely at her, choosing to play innocent. Stephanie grins, taking his elbow and pulling him towards the booths. “Come on, Duke will get us.”

“I feel bad making them pay for all of this.”

“Don’t, seriously. It’s their duty as upperclassmen to treat the freshies kindly.” Stephanie sits down in a pink booth. Peter sits next to her because she pulls him down to sit there.

Each booth is colored red, green, or pink, and each have a colored window with decorations on it, casting a faint glow over them. The pink booths have pink windows with “HA HA HA” decorated all over them. The green booths have question marks, and the red booths have orange windows with tally marks.

It’s an odd choice that Peter doesn’t hang onto for long. Instead, Peter asks, “What kind of after school job lets them cover $190 and then food?”

Stephanie grins, folding her hands over each other on the table and turning to face Peter a little more in the booth. “Their dad pays for everything.”

“He must be rich.”

“Very.”

Peter can’t say much about that. Tony paid for everything after taking Peter in- and before then, too. Oh, well, Peter doesn’t mind stealing from the rich as much. Whoever their dad is, he can apparently afford to buy Peter his vigilante stuff.

“How old are you? You’re so tiny, it’s hard to believe you’re a freshie.” Stephanie has a teasing lilt to her voice, and Peter tries not to let it get to him. Everyone teases about his height.

“I’m 14.” Peter tells her, so totally not offended right now. “How old are you?”

“Awww, you’re so little! I’m 19- I graduated last year, but Timmy and Duke are still good friends of mine.” Stephanie replies, glancing towards the counter. Duke is waiting for the food, and he shoots a peace sign at Steph that she returns with a middle finger.

When she turns back to their table she winces, attempting to play it off as another smile. Only this time, Peter can smell blood. Stephanie pulls her shirt away from her side, but it’s too late. Peter can see dots of blood from her side, just under her ribcage.

Sort of in the same place Spoiler was stabbed.

Huh.

Peter doesn’t point out the blood, but even if he was going to, he’s interrupted. “Steph!”

“Timmy!” Steph leans her cheek on her hand as Tim drops into the booth. He scoots to sit in front of Stephanie, handing Peter his bag from the hardware store. “You took forever to get here. Getting slow in your old age or something?”

“It’s not like you ran out on me or something.” Tim complains. Peter drags his bag closer to him, checking the inside for everything before setting it down at his side. “What have you been torturing Peter with?”

“Nothing, I’ve just been educating him on BatBurger!”

“It’s his first time coming here,” Duke places their trays down, passing Peter a kid box shaped like Batman’s mask, and then a proper meal of a cheeseburger and fries. Peter, wanting to get away before Stephanie murdered Tim (they’re both making faces like this will become an issue), grabs two empty cups just as Duke does.

“What drink do you want, Stephanie?” Peter asks, snapping Stephanie out of her standoff with Tim. Her eyes soften at Peter.

“Oh, kid, you don’t have to-”

“It’s alright.” Peter smiles. He doesn’t know how badly Stephanie is injured, but it’s enough to bleed and make her tired. She probably shouldn’t be up and about.

Stephanie smiles as if this meant something to her. “A root beer, please.”

“Can I get-”

“Diet co*ke, yeah yeah,” Duke waves Tim off. “Drinks are this way, Pete.”

“Everyone hates me.” Time proclaims. Peter chuckles at his dramatics, the older boy putting his head in his hands.

“I don’t hate you, Coupon.” Peter hurries to catch up to Duke before Tim can kill him for the nickname. But based on Stephanie’s laughter, it had the desired effect.

There’s something going on here that Peter isn’t in on, and he has to push down his anxiety about it. Tim and Steph are friendly with each other and there’s no hostility, but they’re still arguing about something. He’s able to pick up on it even though they think they’re hiding it well. In Peter’s third foster home, he gained the ability to see this sort of thing. The couple he was staying with were really nice to him, and had a decent sized apartment. Peter was the only kid there, he had his own room, and the teachers at his school were really nice to him. After what happened with his first and second foster homes, Peter craved stability of any kind.

So when the couple started having issues, Peter did what he could to keep it nice in the house. He joked, he played games, diverted their attention. They never outwardly fought in front of Peter, because they were both of the opinion that Peter shouldn’t get dragged into it. He did a pretty good job for a while, mediating their silent arguments.

He’d ramble at the dinner table about his day and they’d ask him questions, never directly talking to each other. His rambling was the only reason dinners weren’t a quiet affair, and they were grateful for it, because they would prompt him to start talking if things went still for too long.

But it didn’t last long. He was only there for two months, and then they broke up. So Peter had to go to his fourth house.

But he learned from that experience. And now he has the ability to eavesdrop on conversations without anyone knowing he is. Peter strains his ears to listen to what Tim and Stephanie are talking about while he and Duke get the drinks. Unfortunately, there’s enough people in the Batburger to make it difficult, the noise mixing together as the volume rises and lowers randomly.

“…shouldn’t even be here,” Tim is saying, and Stephanie scoffs.

“I can name at least fifteen hundred times you’ve done worse.”

“That- I mean… not relevant.”

Peter misses a bit of the sentence, but he thinks he gets the gist of it.

“I wanted to see him.”

“But you …”

Peter can’t hear the rest, and Tim cuts off the conversation as they make their way back. Stephanie pats his arm again as he sits down and hands her the drink. She’s very touchy, and Peter doesn’t know if it’s normal or not to protest this. He hasn’t had human contact in a while. But at least the touch doesn’t burn. Stephanie feels safe.

Tim is sipping his drink with a sour pout, glaring at the table as if it had personally offended him.

Are they really mad at each other? Peter glances between the two, wondering what he can say to make them not fight. They are pretty set on acting as if they aren’t, which Peter can work with.

He doesn’t have to, he knows that. But it feels nice to have older kids around, feels like home. When he first went out onto the streets, the other, older homeless kids treated him nice. They always looked out for him, showed him places to hide, where to get food and water, and before he had his chicken coop, he stayed with them and they talked for hours in front of the fire together.

They’re safer than adults. Kids, or just teenagers in general, are less likely to hand him over to an adult. Something about teens being against the Man or whatever. It’s coded in their DNA.

He still goes to see them when he can, but a lot of them got into good houses because of Tony. The others refused his help, said they wanted to make it on their own. But they’re always really happy for Peter. He’s sort of missing them right now. Even if Stephanie and Tim are mad at each other, Peter is good at keeping people from fighting.

“Who’d you get?” Duke points to the Batbox with his fry.

Eager to distract, Peter digs into the box and pulls out the figurine at the bottom, unwrapping it from the black plastic. And he laughs at the figure he got, turning it in his hands to show it off.

“Red Hood? That one’s rare.” Tim raises a brow.

It looks nothing like the grumpy older vigilante. Well, it sort of does. It resembles him enough that it’s clear who it is. It has his leather jacket and the black suits and pants. But his boots are shorter and brown, the bat symbol more orange than red, and the helmet is so wonky that Peter can only imagine it must have melted and then cooled off at some point during shipping.

He was sort of hoping to get this one, deep down. He’s spoken to Red Hood more than once, and even knows of a good taco place because of him.

“It would have been cool if you got Spoiler,” Stephanie gives a wistful sigh. “She’s the best one, in my opinion. Don’t you think, Peter?”

“Yeah, in your opinion. Everyone knows Nightwing is the best one. He always comes in the best quality and can actually stand up on his own.” Tim’s comment makes Stephanie roll her eyes. Peter’s smile droops a little, a ball of nerves forming in his gut. He can’t tell what’s teasing and playful and what’s got a secret message under it.

“We can order you more and you can tell us your favorite,” Stephanie tells Peter, as if it’s a secret plan. Tim shakes his head at this, going to protest, but Steph cuts him off. “And you’ll see that Spoiler is the best one, not the others.”

“He’ll say Nightwing is better, because he is.” Tim presses. Stephanie uses her hand as a puppet and mocks him.

“Duke, can you go get more?” Stephanie asks him, and Peter can feel the competition rising.

“No, he doesn’t need to.” Peter urges, and all eyes fall on him. “I like Red Hood.”

The competition is gone in seconds. Tim breaks out into a grin so wide it should split his face. Duke’s eyebrows raise up as if Peter had said something intriguing, and Stephanie bites down on her own smile, turning away from Peter to collect herself. Peter feels his face heat up, wondering why it’s suddenly embarrassing to say out loud. Is it that funny?

“He’s your favorite?” Tim asks, eagerly leaning forward.

“Y-Yeah, why?”

“Nothing, it’s just cute, is all.” Stephanie assures him, but all it does is make Peter feel more embarrassed. Cute? He doesn’t want to be cute, he’s not a little kid. “He doesn’t get a lot of fans ‘cause everyone thinks he’s so… grumpy.”

“I think he’s cool…” Peter mutters, stuffing the offending Red Hood figure in his pocket. Stephanie giggles into her hand, and Peter’s face feel like it might be redder than Red Hood’s helmet.

He thinks they noticed he was going to die if they didn’t stop laughing at him, because Tim quickly delves into another topic change as Duke gets on his phone, grinning to himself.

“Hey, Peter, you said your dad is an engineer? Where does he work?”

Oh, crap. Maybe Peter should have checked that before he went out and started blabbing about Tony. He didn’t think that through at all. What does he say? ‘Underground stuff you probably wouldn’t know about it?’ He’d sound like some schmuck on social media who thinks he can gate keep Green Day.

“Uh, I don’t actually know. He doesn’t talk about work with me.”

“But he has his own lab, right?” Tim thankfully doesn’t hang on to that little tidbit, and Peter nods. Whew, got out of that. “That’s pretty cool, having someone to teach you all that stuff. Are you in the robotics club?”

“No, I’m not. I don’t have the time.” Peter thinks before answering- because he gets the question so often, it’s only natural to reply with that.

“Busy body, huh? Me too. I wanted to join robotics, but there just wasn’t enough time in the day.” Tim wiggles a fry in the air. “If you get the time, I hear it’s worth it. They go to a competition every year to fight robots.”

“Sick,” Peter sits up in his seat with excitement. He’s always wanted to see a robot fight, because who doesn’t want to see a robot fight? He and Uncle Ben used to talk about it all the time-

Oh.

A sudden wave of nausea hits Peter. Or maybe it isn’t nausea, but some other emotion that doesn’t have a name.

He doesn’t know if it’s a part of grief or not. He finds that grief comes in waves, but this emotion? It always hits him out of nowhere, with no pull back of the water that he can see coming. It’s less like a wave, and more like an indiscriminate punch to the gut.

Peter suddenly feels small, thinking about the robot fight he and Ben never got to see. Because of Peter.

“Maybe I’ll go to the competition and see.” He keeps the smile on his face, but his voice is just a little quieter. No one seems to notice.

Focus, Peter. Not right now.

“Is that what you were getting from the hardware store? Robot parts?” Stephanie narrows her eyes at Tim, who slightly pales, a fry hanging from his lip.

“Well, uh-”

“We just started talking about it ‘cause it’s cool.” Peter saves him, because if they ever run into each other again, he wants to see the success of a shoe-stealing robot. Though, has another motive to helping him out. It might be because of that punch to the gut that he just got, but Peter wants to latch onto anything else. Some other goal, that doesn’t hurt as bad, so he can ignore what hurts the most. He chooses to focus on one thing: getting information.

“But what’s cooler are alternate dimensions.”

Is it maybe a stupid idea? Possibly.

Will it tell him something he wants to know? Hopefully.

Will it stop him reliving the bad memories? For now.

He’s not clueless, even if he does miss a social cue once or twice.

Stephanie is injured in the same spot that Spoiler was stabbed. Not to mention that his spider-sense feels the exact same way as when Red Robin is watching him when Tim is watching him. Then there’s Tim’s heartbeat- a little erratic, nothing too concerning. Steady enough that it keeps him going, and although healthy, it has that familiar kick to it of someone who doesn’t sleep right and lives off of energy drinks or coffee.

He’s heard that same heartbeat from Red Robin stalking him for the past few weeks. Enough so that he could pick it out of a crowd if he tried. He thinks this is why his spider-sense felt familiar for Red Robin and Tim both- because they’re the same person.

Heartbeats are like voices, if he listens close enough. All unique, even though they can sound the same. Peter knows why he pays so much attention to them, but he tells himself that it’s because of his safety. He can never be surprised about who’s coming near, because he already knows.

Stephanie and Tim are around the same ages as Spoiler and Red Robin, and they know each other pretty well. If they were vigilantes together, then maybe that accounts for why they’re close. Plus, Peter can figure that if Red Robin was genuinely that curious about him, wouldn’t he stalk Peter as a civilian at some point?

But he can’t just say that. And he can’t confirm it, either, not unless he wants to blatantly ask and risk being right or wrong. Both could turn out unwell for him. And they’re in public, so that’d be dumb anyway.

What he can do is lay out the groundwork, though.

“Alternate dimensions?” Tim raises a brow, but he muses over the thought. “You believe in those?”

“Don’t you?” Peter looks around the room, then back at them. “I think it’s kind of neat. There’s a dimension right now where I’m older than you guys, or a dimension where Duke is blonde and Stephanie has black hair.”

“I mean, I guess they could be real.” Tim ponders, frowning in thought. There’s something behind it that Peter can’t name, and Stephanie and Duke are suspiciously focused on their food all of a sudden. “It would be interesting to see. We’d need a particle accelerator to see if test that theory, and I doubt Gotham would sanction that. Batman would throw a fit.”

You’d think one would need a particle accelerator. Peter misses when dimensional travel was all just theory to him.

“Isn’t the theory about alternate dimensions that they’re caused by the decisions we make?” Duke asks, biting into his burger, and then adding, “Like, each one makes a new universe, where you chose something else?”

“Yep.” Peter nods. He’s eating as he speaks, but trying to force himself to slow down. At every meal he feels like it’s going to disappear from his plate, and he’ll never eat again. “There are dimensions where you don’t exist, because your parents never got together. Or because there was a different combination of the gene pool, or whatever.”

“Huh,” Tim taps the table with his fingers, lost in thought. “A Tim-less universe sounds boring.”

“Or glorious, depending on who’s thinking about it.” Stephanie smirks into her food. Tim mocks her, flicking a fry in her direction.

“Or there are dimensions with completely different heroes.” Peter continues, testing the waters. He keeps a close eye on how Tim and Stephanie react- and Duke, too, because isn’t Signal around this guy’s age? “Like, this Batburger could be a restaurant based around some guy called Antman instead. AntBurger doesn’t sound as cool, if I’m being honest.”

“I’d love to meet a guy called Antman, are you joking? What would his powers be?” Tim uses to fry as antennae, making his voice higher pitched and nasally. “I’m Antman, surrender or be brought to justice!”

“What would you do if you met someone from an alternate dimension though?” Peter asks, glancing up from his fries then back down again. “I’d ask a billion questions if I could, I’d wanna know everything that’s different.”

“I’d have a hard time believing them,” Tim says, and Peter resists the urge to frown. “But if they could prove it, then I’d feel the same.”

Peter doesn’t know what he got from that answer. But he’s satisfied with it, he guesses.

He wanted to know, just in case.

He’s all alone in this universe, that he is fully aware of. It isn’t uncommon to how he was before Tony, before the Avengers came into his life. Peter is used to sticking it alone, not really trusting anyone to get close and help him.

That’s what the vigilantes are wanting. They want Peter to have faith in them, and he wants that too. But for Peter, who always had to be wary of adults, to suddenly give up control when he could get hurt? It’s his worst nightmare. It literally took Peter months before he trusted Tony or Steve or any of his mentors to tell them his real name.

But Red Robin, and Spoiler, and Signal?

If these three are who Peter thinks they are, then they’re not adults. They’re other teenagers like him, who have been nice to Peter this whole time, and don’t set off alarm bells in his head. Even though the vigilante adults don’t do that, it’s just easier to trust someone closer to his age.

If Tim is Red Robin, then Peter would have to really convince him that he’s from an alternate dimension, somehow. Maybe Peter just not existing here is enough, in some way. Or if he has a counterpart somewhere, it could help his case. Though he can imagine there are other reasons for that happening too. Like Peter just not having an identity, or he’s a secret evil twin.

What if they don’t believe you?

They could. It’s their job, they deal with things like this.

You’re just a stupid kid, they just feel bad for you. That’s all it is. Just wait until they find out about what you really are, they’ll never trust you.

Peter wants to ignore that voice in his head that always tells him this. He’s been stuck here as long as he has been because he’s avoided getting help. That voice always hisses in his ear to remind him that one time we trusted an adult don’t you remember do you really want that to happen again-

Peter suddenly feels sick, and sweaty, and like he needs to wash his hands.

This thought feels familiar, doesn’t it, Peter?

What if they don’t believe him?

Suddenly, this stupid BatBurger restaurant feels too hot and too cold all at the same time. Peter takes a sip of his drink to hide his nerves, the chattering from the other three feeling muffled. They started talking about time travel, and Peter wants to join in.

Because teenagers are safe. They feel safe.

So why does Peter feel so sick right now, and why does he feel so bad about not trusting them? Why does he feel guilty? Feel shame?

you should leave

“What time is it?” Peter squints at the windows, but he can’t tell how long they’ve been there. He feels inclined to listen to the voice, already picking up his things to go. Stephanie’s eyes feel like they’re glued to his movements, but Peter pretends he can’t tell.

She doesn’t know.

???

What if she does? Does she see how weird Peter is getting? Peter feels weird. He feels like everyone can read his mind, all of a sudden. He would like to leave, but he also doesn’t want to at all.

You don’t know these people, why do you feel so-

safe here safe nice warm

trust is dangerous. don’t be dumb.

Everything was just fine, why is he freaking out?

It’s not his spider-sense that is bothering him. It’s not even that these people might be the vigilantes. It’s something Peter can’t control, and the very idea of that is driving him crazy. He can’t control this, he can’t stop it, and he wants to be alone.

No he doesn’t. He wants Tony and Pepper.

“Umm…” Duke checks his phone again, smiles at a notification, then replies, “1:20.”

Peter doesn’t quite meet their eye, but he does manage to keep a smile on his face. He stands up with his trash and his bag. His mouth feels like it’s full of cotton, but he manages to say, “I gotta get going. I have work in a few.”

“Work? You’re 14, who hired you?” Stephanie points out.

worried

Some of the itchy, boiling feeling goes away. Stephanie’s gaze is comforting, understanding. The type of understanding where she doesn’t say it out loud.

see it?

There’s a buzzing in his head that feels unrelated to any of the voices, any of his senses. It quiets when he focuses on them, but…

Peter is tired. Not just physically, but mentally.

He’ll have to think about it later. About why he wants to trust them so bad, but when he tries, his voice gets caught in this throat and he can’t breathe, and all he can imagine is

the last time the last time the last time.

“And I’ll be late for my shift if I don’t skedaddle.” He shrugs, waving goodbye to them, walking backwards a couple steps and then turning around to hurry outside. “Nice meeting you guys. Bye Coupon.”

Tim groans, Duke snickering at him. As Peter walks out of the restaurant, he can feel more than one pair of eyes on his back.

…watching…

It doesn’t feel scary that they are.

Chapter 5: but can you find me soon, because i'm in my head?

Chapter Text

Duuuuke [11:12AM]: @Jay

Duuuuke [11:12AM]: @Jay

Duuuuke [11:12AM]: @Jay

Duuuuke [11:13AM]: @Jay

Duuuuke [11:13AM]: @Jay

Duuuuke [11:13AM]: @Jay

Duuuuke [11:13AM]: @Jay

Duuuuke [11:13AM]: @Jay

Duuuuke [11:13AM]: @Jay

Jay [11:13AM]: do you want to die.

Jay [11:14AM]: asking because i think you genuinely want me to beat your ass

Duuuuke [11:14AM]: we took peter to batburger

Jay [11:15AM]: f*cking and????? why the f*ck would i care

Jay [11:15AM]: i was sleeping you asshat

Duuuuke [11:15AM]: he got a red hood figure :)

Jay [11:16AM]: GET TO THE POINT IM f*ckING TIRED

Duuuuke [11:17AM]: we were like “let’s get you more cause red hood is obvi not the best” (it’s Signal, duh) and peter said he doesn’t need another one cause red hood is his favorite!!

Damian [11:17AM]: He clearly doesn’t understand Todd’s history if that is the case.

Duuuuke [11:17AM]: u just mad cause Peter didn’t say Robin

Damian [11:18AM]: I haven’t even met him, so no, I don’t care.

Duuuuke [11:18AM]: sounds like you do

Damian [11:19AM]: For once I agree with Todd. Someone needs to beat your ass.

Duuuuke [11:19AM]: @Bruce get your child he’s threatening my person

Damian 11:20AM[]: Todd is awfully quiet.

Duuuuke [11:21AM]: holy sh*t u right

Duuuuke [11:21AM]: @Jay

Duuuuke [11:21AM]: @Jay

Duuuuke [11:21AM]: @Jay

Duuuuke [11:121AM]: @Jay

Duuuuke [11:22AM]: WOOOWWWWW @everyone found THE Red Hood’s weakness

Damian [11:22AM]: We already knew this information, so maybe get off your highest of horses, Thomas.

Duuuuke [11:23AM]: @Bruce

Damian [11:24AM]: I know you have the intelligence of a five year old but you don’t have to tattle like one.

Dicko [11:35AM]: Peter’s favrite is WHO?

Dicko [11:35AM]: :((

Dicko [11:35AM]: this is the worst day ever

Duuuuke [11:37AM]: i dunno i think this is f*cking great

Duuuuke [11:38AM]: @Jay

Duuuuke [11:38AM]: @Jay

Duuuuke [11:38AM]: @Jay

Jay has left BATCHAT

Duuuuke has added Jay to BATCHAT

Duuuuke [11:39AM]: :)

-

“This is quite ridiculous, child.” Loki, who, as Ned learned, is a God or an alien of some kind, rolls his eyes like a petulant teenager.

Ned wonders what would happen if he took up on the advice of the Avengers and actually left this part to one of them to handle.

The adults had offered several times to be a go between with him and Loki. It didn’t take Ned very long to understand they don’t trust this guy as far as they could throw him, and it’s not like Loki does much to actually dispute that notion. When confronted by Steve after the first Fake-Peter fiasco, made an illusion of the room looking like the inside of a glacier.

He’s heard all the stories that Peter could offer, and then stories that the Avengers themselves offered to him after Tony flipped the f*ck out on Loki when he showed up a few days ago. Loki is a trickster, someone who plays for games, who likes a good story. If he came up out of the woodwork, none of them believe it was just to ‘help.’

Natasha is here for when they think Ned inevitably backs out. Her eyes are as sharp as the knife she is spinning around her fingers, lying in wait for even the slightest slip up from the strange man.

She could definitely take over if Ned wanted. He could throw his hands up and say “My tummy hurts and I don’t wanna” and she wouldn’t even judge him for it. She’d give Loki the information he needs for this plan to work out, and figure out what Loki is up to, all without Ned’s interference.

But also, this is the only part that Ned can be helpful for, in the search for Peter. He doesn’t have magic, or super strength, or anything like that, so it’s obvious that he will be doing jack-all to help his friend.

Talking? He can do talking. He’s strangely good at blabbing away. He’s a professional at this, been training since birth to never shut his mouth. He wants to do this, and he’s not gonna give up just because Loki is difficult to work with.

“No one will be able to tell the difference.” Loki gestures towards the chair next to him and Ned.

But he really makes it difficult.

The illusion of Peter is sitting with them, hands flat on the table and watching Ned for the most part. And when he’s not watching Ned, the illusion will look around the room with the same curious glances that Peter has, like he’s lost in thought. When he grins, the illusion has the same dimples that Ned knows. If Tony hadn’t noticed that this was an illusion, Ned might not have noticed for a while.

(That feels so terrible to admit, so Ned only thinks it.)

“Ned, are we done yet? I wanna finish setting up that Avengers Tower set that we got.” Illusion asks, and Ned tries not to let his sour expression show, because that’s definitely what Loki wants. When Illusion says stuff like that, it sounds far too much like Peter, and that bothers Ned immensely. Loki knows this.

That’s also a problem that feels icky to Ned.

Because how does Loki know so much about Peter and him? Did he check Peter’s room before making up this sick little plan of his? Does he know all of the Lego sets they’ve been making together? It’s unsettling to imagine that this man god alien guy knows so much about them, or their personal lives, without anyone telling him about it. All because he clearly has something to gain from offering to help them.

(What the hell does he want? Well, it’s not like Ned would know. Evidence: He’s a 14 year old normal human kid that just so happens to be friends with Spider-Man. He is not gonna figure out the whims of the man god alien guy.)

“Can you please stop right now?” Ned snaps, his frustration making him sound harsher than he meant it to be.

Loki stares at him for a moment, likely debating blasting Ned into a thousand pieces or leaving him alive. Ned prepares himself to become a nothingness that was once himself when the Illusion Peter clears away, leaving behind an empty seat.

Ned lets out a tiny sigh of relief and takes this as a win. Loki leans forward to rest his elbows on the table, and the god sets his chin on his intertwined fingers, observing Ned much the way a grandmaster would observe a chess piece.

“You do not feel like griping about how I portray the spider?”

“I have a lot of gripes about that, but I’m choosing to focus on the bigger picture.” Ned replies, squinting at Loki. A ball of nerves has bundled its way through Ned, and his body feels like it’s buzzing. Don’t be stupid don’t be stupid don’t be stupid- “Which is our school schedule, his personal schedule, and everything you need to know about our classmates.”

“Right, well, I am sure you mean well, as all of you human goody-two-shoes buffoons, but I hardly imagine that the day-to-day life of a high school human will be difficult for someone of my caliber to manage.” Loki practically hums with amusem*nt.

It’s like Ned can see it written on his face: silly, stupid human child. It feels like when people laugh at small dogs when they bark at them.

And ugh, okay, the that same sentiment coming from adults who know next to nothing about modern schooling is one thing, but it sounded so obnoxious coming from this guy’s mouth in the same way it annoys Ned to hear British people talk about American schooling or food.

Yeah, most people assume that a high school kid has nothing on their plates that require the amount of stress that they go through. But most people are forgetting that modern schooling is requiring students to keep up with so many different subjects and extracurricular that the average teenager isn’t getting enough sleep. They just assume that everything is just like back when they were going to school, but the standards are different now.

And also, they aren’t Peter Parker or Ned Leeds.

“Peter doesn’t just go to school and come back home, dude.” Ned contains a rude retort, then attempts to remember his manners. “I mean… sir. Not dude. I definitely didn’t mean ‘dude.’”

Loki might be the jerk that pulled a mean prank on Tony and him, but he’s also a super powerful guy who has killed hundreds of people. It would be bad to get on his nerves.

“That certainly sounds like what he does.” Loki retorts. Ned catches Natasha’s blatantly smug smile that she doesn’t bother hiding behind her cup. Ned takes a deep breath.

“To start with, Peter’s school schedule has a wide load. He missed out on a lot of school before,” Ned’s use of ‘before’ makes Loki’s eyebrows raise and Ned hopes that doesn’t mean anything. “-so he wanted to make the most out of what is offered at Midtown. He tested into a couple junior-year classes and he has several clubs and after school programs that he does.”

“Again, I doubt that I wouldn’t-”

“He tested into AP Calc BC and Ap Chem and he takes those two without me, first thing in the morning. Then he takes Intro to Computer Science, English, World History, Spanish, and P.E. with me.”

“You are in a lot of his classes.” Loki points out.

“Mr. Stark gave a donation to the school.” Ned answers flippantly. The ‘why’ is not important right now, just that they do take classes together. “Every day after school we both are in the Academic Decathlon club and Study Group, except Peter goes to BioChem Club on Friday afternoons instead. On Wednesdays after Academic Decathlon, he goes to some of his old hangouts to check on and talk to people he knows. They’ve already noticed he’s not been around these past couple weeks, Biggie caught me on my way home and I told him that Peter was out sick.”

“…Biggie?” Is all Loki seems to have glimmered from that info drop. “The man’s name is Biggie?”

“It’s a nickname, first of all. Second of all, it’s not even that weird of a nickname. Third of all, not the point, dude- Sir.”

“Apologies,” Loki says with his hands up in mock surrender, clearly not sorry at all. “I will hand it to you that the spider has a lot more on his plate than I initially thought he would.”

Oh, he’s definitely placating Ned. He’s heard that tone from his teachers before and long distance relatives that he meets once every five years. Ned feels a dig and he really wants to know what Loki would gain from dealing with Ned.

But screw it, it’s another win.

“Yeah, he does, which means you can’t do anything that would mess this up for him.” Ned feels a wave of ill wash over him as he tries to keep up his confident Don’t Mess With Me composure that he was advised to have.

This is a guy who gave the Avengers hell not all that long ago. He’s still not trusted, the only one that really holds out hope for him is Thor. Tony and everyone else are quite sure that he’s here to cause them trouble, and Natasha is operating under the idea that Loki is involved in all of this somehow.

Ned truly hopes that isn’t the case. Because that would mean that Loki is an enemy again, and that Peter got caught up in something bigger than he thought. But Ned doesn’t know what Loki would want with Tony’s company- and he’s sure that mostly everyone knows that Pepper has the control over pretty much everything, as the CEO. Loki seems the type to have figured out that much.

It’s a big shot that he’s talking to, and Ned is just some 14 year old dweeb who’s trying not to puke his guts out onto the very expensive table in one of the secure meeting rooms in the Tower.

“If you do anything that would cost Peter later, I’ll make sure you regret it.” Ned tries his best to glare the god down. Because no one, not even a god, is going to ruin the life that his best buddy has just been able to get.

Loki’s lips twitch up into a smile that Ned can’t read the intention of. Natasha sets her cup down with a nod at Ned, observing Loki’s reaction out of the corner of her eye. The knife stills in her hand, and the shine from the blade reflects across the table at Loki. Ned gulps, leaning back in his seat under the pressure.

“Is that what you think of me?” Loki asks Ned. “No doubt you heard all from the Avengers that I am a detestable, no good villain. Am I right?”

“I don’t know what to believe. But actions speak louder than intentions.” Ned bites his tongue on accident, winces, and tries to play it off. “I mean, you haven’t really given anyone a reason as to why you’d be generous like this in the first place.”

“I believe that I said I came here with the intention to help. To offer my much needed assistance with a problem that you all could not handle without me. If I hadn’t shown up, would it not be Stark that cost Peter?”

The knife slams into the metal table with a Screech! Ned flinches, eyes widening when he sees Natasha stabbed it through to the hilt, like the table was made out of butter.

“Make your point, Loki.” Natasha warns lowly, too calm for the action. Loki clicks his tongue, unfazed.

“I am merely pointing out to the spawn that Stark is the reason that the spider is in this mess, is he not?” Loki replies to her, but keeps his eyes on Ned. He lowers his hands onto the table, leaning forward like a snake eyeing a mouse. “I am helping with that problem. Why would I ‘mess’ with the spider’s life?”

Natasha replies with a short scoff. “Are we forgetting that you live to make everyone else’s lives more complicated for your own amusem*nt?”

“I am not that selfish. I at least make it just as entertaining for everyone else as well.”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Natasha sits up, elbow on the table. Her gaze has hardened, stance set towards Loki and crossing in front of Ned. This stance draws Loki’s attention away from Ned and towards her, and his amusem*nt has pulled back. “We all know that you’re up to something. Don’t think that you can trick us play playing oblivious. You make one wrong move, and your chance to be an ally is stripped away from you. For good. No matter what your brother says.”

“I highly doubt it, but I suppose I will ease your worries despite that.” Loki narrows his eyes as he falls back in his chair, swinging an arm over the back. He’s as relaxed about Natasha’s threat as a king on his throne.

“…You’re not gonna do anything?” Ned asks, a hesitant breath rather than a real question.

The man’s eyes always hold someone like he knows a secret about them that even they don’t know. “I am merely here to watch the story unfold and offer my help.”

Ned takes a moment to feel if this is a lie or not. He doesn’t believe a word out of the man’s mouth, being honest with himself. Not after being told of his history, and actually meeting and talking to him in person.

He rubs his hands together nervously, wondering why they feel like the skin under his palms are buzzing. The anxiety usually settles on his stomach or his chest. Trying to shake the feeling away, he decides that all he can do at the moment is trust Loki, but more importantly: trust that if he tries anything, the Avengers will prevent it from getting too far.

Everything is going to be alright. When Peter gets back, he’ll see that his life is waiting for him, and Ned will be satisfied to know that he had a role in making that happen.

“Alright, fine.” Ned says, and Natasha settles back into her seat. Ned decides to do what he does best: gossip. “Now, I’ll have to tell you about our classmates. Starting with the most annoying: Flash Thompson. He’s got some kind of academic rivalry with Peter, but I think it’s stemming from deep rooted daddy issues-”

-

There is a snake in the garden.

Tony’s first lesson on religion had been the reason he never got started with it in the first place, but religious imagery always manages to bring about the exact dramatic vibe that he goes for. There is something poetic about the snake and the Garden of Eden- something tragic, really. Ever since he was a young boy, Tony had sympathized with Eve.

Eve had lived her entire life not knowing of a lie, and God punished her for an ignorance that was his fault to correct. God said that he makes no mistakes, as do his people. But if he does not make mistakes, then what does he call his failures? Is it not left to the parent, the father, to teach his children? Or was it because Eve was a woman, she did not count as his child?

Not to say that he relates to her story. He just finds it ridiculous that Eve was punished for her father’s sins, all because of a snake.

Tony’s been told that he has a God complex. But in his mind, he will always be better than God. He can recognize his failures and move past them once and for all, he can be a better man and will always have that choice. He can teach his son, and he will wring that snake’s neck.

If it isn’t obvious, there’s this thing that Tony has been pissed about, that covers up most of his inward panic and all encompassing fear: This guy that took Peter is a f*cking idiot.

(It wouldn’t have been better for him if the man had been clever, but it really digs into his skin.)

There was a huge, glaring, obvious clue that stuck out right in Tony’s face the second time that rat bastard made his way back (for reasons that Tony doesn’t know yet, but he will find out even if it kills him). Besides the fact that the dimwit keeps crawling back into New York as if wanting them to attack him, whenever the moron makes one of those bigger teleportational jumps, he causes a temporary blackout wherever he appears or leaves from.

It’s not even hard to follow these black outs, either. Tony ended up making a map of the blackouts, down to the exact millisecond that they happen. Through FRIDAY’s program, Tony was able to pinpoint a short pattern to his bigger jumps: they happen every three days, approximately. And because Tony is pissed, smart, and impatient, he came up with an algorithm to predict the jumps, along with a city-wide detection device.

What Tony is doing is called “laying down his traps to catch the pest in the garden.” It’s the best use of his time, rather than listening to that damned Loki speak as if this is all a game. If he stays still too long, he’ll start thinking of ways to murder the tricky bitch once and for all.

(There might be two snakes in the garden. All Tony knows is that when he saw that fake Peter, one that called him ‘Dad’ with no hesitation, Tony wanted to grab the nearest sharp object and find out if Loki had a heart by carving his chest open.

Alas, there was a child nearby. Which is the only reason that hadn’t ended far more terribly.)

He had kept this from Ned, but by now, Tony has learned the snake’s name. They just had to comb through some illegally obtained surveillance videos and the video from Tony’s suit, run it through facial recognition- and viola, there they go. He just hates using it, because anything along the lines of ‘idiot’ is all that he deserves. But it’s important for Tony to remember it, to study every detail of how they managed to let this slip through the cracks.

He’d read the file they compiled on this man front to back several times since they got it. He knows as much as he possibly can about ‘Dr. Jonathon Ohnn.’

Ohnn had once been a frail, unimportant, background character kind of a man that worked at Alchemax under Doctor Octavius. He wasn’t even a villain-of-the-week type that Peter usually has for his villains. He’s insignificant, a face and name that is easily forgotten. The research facility is located on a private campus in Hudson Valley, where they research multidimensional travel, among other theories. Tony had only heard of them in passing, as Doctor Octavius hadn’t shown his face in public for years.

From what he gathered, everything was going fine for a few years. However, when Tony made his way into their private servers and obtained their files not at all legally, he got to see exactly when Ohnn began exhibiting signs that he was “unstable and unfit for collaborative work.”

Octavius had mentioned in said files that Ohnn was “growing far too secretive with his work and his theories, and growing paranoid that others were trying to steal credit from him.” He was let go after an incident where he suggested that there was favoritism in the facility, and he broke down in a board meeting. Said details of what happened there were not listed, even though everything else in the file was very meticulously recorded.

It should have ended there.

There was an entire year where Ohnn struggled to get a job because of this incident: his reputation was shot dead. No one wanted to work with someone that wasn’t going to play as a team- unless, of course, they were brilliant. Charming, in a way. Even though he was brilliant, he failed to see the danger, and he had a bit of a temper.

That’s how it’s been. Until two years ago, when he managed to snag a job at Oscorp.

Tony wishes Peter would talk about the day he was bitten by that spider and how it happened. He wants to find a way to get Peter some sort of retribution for what had happened without selling out that Peter is Spider-Man. But all that he could get out of Peter was that he had gone to visit his father’s old work friend, and he was bitten by the spider when he was there.

The work friend had been Dr. Curtis Connors, an expert geneticist like Peter’s father had been. The two of them had worked together for years, until one day, Peter’s parents took an unexpected trip to a convention in Europe, and they died, along with all of the research that Peter’s father, Richard Parker, had.

As far as he can tell, Dr. Connors is still researching cross-species genetics, and hasn’t contacted Peter since that day Peter went to visit him.

Now, here’s the thing.

If a spider managed to get out and bite Peter, turning him into a spider-mutant, and then Ohnn -who was a regular human two years ago, and whom disappeared off the face of the Earth only two months after Peter himself was bit- resurfaces years later with a snake mutation…

It doesn’t leave much to ponder, now does it?

Whether it was a purposeful change or another accident like Peter remains to be seen. But now it’s evident that they’ve all crossed paths before in some way or another.

All things he could have told the kid that’s waiting for Peter to come home, but as much as he knows that clarity is key, he doesn’t want to involve another kid in this. Ned isn’t like Peter- he’s a normal kid- no, not like… See, Peter won’t ever get the chance to be a normal, normal kid, hence why he gets to put on that suit and go gallivanting around to save people.

Ned, however, has nothing- no mutations, no soldier serums, no war suits, no magic. He’s a regular damn kid who’s something of a little genius like Peter is, and he won’t be getting his start in being a hero any time soon, not under Tony’s watch.

Tony knows far more than he let Ned in on. They all do. They know Dr. Jonathan Ohnn was given a snake mutation, they know he’s a disgraced scientist, they know he is the man that snatched Peter. And they know that everything he worked on in the past is the reason that they couldn’t find Peter here.

That’s because Peter isn’t here.

Ohnn’s work at Alchemax was a level above the multidimensional travel they were attempting to achieve using the particle accelerator. He was wanting to take their work with the super collider and apply all of that theory into a piece of tech that he could put on his wrist. His damn wrist.

The moron could have gotten his hands on a sling ring and be done with it, but no. He had to do this the hard way.

And the asshole managed it. He figured it out.

Here’s the thing about a particle collider: It’s not a tech that can just be slapped onto someone’s wrist. Take the LHC collider, for example. It’s a 27 kilometers long ring of superconducting magnets, and has a number of accelerating structures that boost the energy of the particles. It has two high energy beams that travel at the speed of light, traveling opposite directions in separate beam pipes, then are made to collide. The magnets have to be chilled at -271.3 degrees Celsius. That’s colder than outer space. The magnets used are 1232 dipole and 392 quadruple mag.

That’s English for “Can’t be slapped on a wrist and opening up portals to other dimensions without serious adverse consequences to the body, mind, and the world.”

It would be damn impressive if it wasn’t for the fact that it had been used to kidnap a literal child and to threaten Tony, his family, and all of his employees and their families across the globe. Tony doesn’t know when he figured it out, but he has an idea that it happened right before or after his disappearance, when he was bitten by the snake mutation.

Of course Peter gets kidnapped and thrown into an alternate dimension during the time where every magic user that Tony and the others know are busy with their own hell being raised. Of course Loki can’t actually be helpful and go find Peter and bring him back- of course that would end up with Peter fried alive because humans aren’t meant to travel dimensions the way Loki is able to.

(This is why he hates magic. The users and the spells themselves never pull through when you need it to. No, you have to believe in it for it to give you f*cking anything worthwhile. And it’s such bullsh*t. Science? It can’t let you down. Every time it fails, that’s on the person applying it, they have to figure it out.

Science isn’t fickle. It has rules and it doesn’t rely on feelings.)

But there’s another problem- Loki’s method could burn a human into nothing. Ohnn’s method is much the same.

Ohnn’s teleportation and multidimensional jumps are literally burning him alive. That is why Ohnn takes those days in between jumps: his body needs to recover, or he’ll remain ash because he ripped his body apart molecule by molecule in an unstable collision. He has the regenerative abilities that Peter does, but it still hurts him.

(Peter turned to ash just like that, right in front of his face. It must have hurt. Peter told him it hurt. Tony couldn’t do anything about it-)

It all just manages to piss him off. To know that Peter is out there somewhere, more than likely captured- No.

No, Tony knows Peter well at this point. Peter is a tricky kid. There’s been no evidence to support that they still have Peter, and that tracks. Not only had Peter almost managed to get out the first time he had been kidnapped, -

(When Tony got to Peter and that lab, Tony had torn the roof up in order to get to the lower levels faster. When he burst through the rubble, he had found Peter clawing away at his own skin, the metal restraints, and the table itself, almost able to get out.)

-he had also been trained by Natasha to utilize his abilities to get out of their hold. And if that didn’t work, he would manage to get out another way. So Peter is probably homeless again, unless he got lucky and ended up in a universe where someone is able to take care of him. He’s all alone, trying to get back home, trying to survive. Like he had been before they found him.

This wouldn’t have happened if Tony had been faster. Or if Tony had been prepared for someone coming up with an idea like this. Or if Ohnn hadn’t…

No, Tony can’t place the blame on him alone.

Ohnn did not come up with this idea.

The cracked scientist was described as ‘irrational’ more times of his life than he was described as a genius. And on the day of his disappearance, witnesses claimed that he was talking to the air around him as if someone else was there. From the camera footage and from the mandatory therapy notes that Tony got his hands on, everything points to Ohnn not having the mindset to create a plan like this on his own.

The thing is, the man isn’t focused at all on Tony. Tony himself has never met him (Tony also looked into seeing if he indirectly or directly screwed this guy’s life up somehow, but there was nothing), and instead of making a beeline for Stark Industries or trying to confront them directly, he slips away and find somewhere to hide.

There’s also the fact that Ohnn hadn’t been in this dimension when the ransom demand was sent to Tony.

Tony had followed that message all too easily, tracking it down to being sent from a computer in a storage unit not that far away from where Peter grew up with Ben and May. When Tony got there and they forced the unit open, it had been empty. Empty, save for a fold out chair and a note that said “Better luck next time.” in a printed out font.

(He remembers throwing the chair against the wall and Rhodey forcing him to sit down. But nothing else until he was home, sitting on his bed, and Pepper was resting her head on his shoulder as they both stared out the window.)

Someone is behind Ohnn, pulling the strings, and they are far more capable of sound reasoning that the man who has a lightning quick temper. Who is it, and what do they want with Stark Industries?

Tony knows that there are a lot of reasons to want the company and access to it, but he specifically needs to know what this person wants. It’ll tell Tony what he needs to destroy, so that no one can get their hands on it. It might even lead him back to the person that wants Stark Industries in the first place- there’s plenty of people that have been wronged in Tony’s past by Tony himself, seeking revenge. Depending on the branch, it might even be someone Tony employed.

It’s a question he needs answered, and this simpleton is going to give him that answer.

Tony knows it’s going to happen, there’s no doubt about it. Teleportation doesn’t stand a chance against the simple laws of physics.

“All set, Capsicle?” Tony tries for a light jaunt, but all he can feel under his skin is a burning anticipation and rage. It thrums with his pulse, every breath he takes rising up with an eagerness to burn someone down to dust.

“Would appreciate if you dropped the ‘sicle’ already, but yeah. I’m ready.” Cap huffs in his comms. Rogers is a block over, keeping his overtly polite eye on that area, like he had been for the last fifteen minutes as they prepared for Ohnn’s arrival. The algorithm ticks down on the timer in the corner of Tony’s eye, taunting him and making the itch to fight worse.

Tony had wanted to do this part himself. However, he was saddled with a babysitter, one that everyone was sure would stop him if Tony took things “too far” with the man that they have to interrogate once they get their hands on him.

As if Tony would let this blockhead die on him before he forced the man to spill his cowardly guts about where he took Tony’s kid. He’ll have plenty of time to talk about what the big plan is, because Tony is going to make sure that they drag it all out. He wants to know every single detail that this nimrod has, and Tony will repay the favor with his own 45 step plan on reducing him to nothing but ash that stays that way- ash, forgotten in the wind.

“I’ll drop the scicle when your backstory changes.” Tony replies shortly. “FRIDAY, what are you reading?”

“I scanned the atmospheric radius of the approximated zone of arrival. Readings indicate there is an abnormal electromagnetic fluctuation within the vicinity, Boss. However, there is a peculiar quantum signature emanating from the center of the radius.”

Tony clicks his teeth, crouching down on the ledge of the rooftop. New York blinks back up at him, and Tony has to admit that all he can think about is the way Peter would describe it.

“So he’s about here, then.” Tony huffs as he reads his screen. There’s quantum entanglement patterns that suggest a disruption in space-time. It’s disappointing that they hadn’t known to detect something like this until it was too late, but Tony is incredibly prepared now to make up for the mistake.

“You’re sure you’ve got this?” Cap tries. Tony’s almost forgets to pay attention to him, too busy watching the timer counting down to Ohnn’s arrival.

2:18, 2:17, 2:16..

“What are you trying to say?”

“Don’t start with that.” Cap huffs. “I’m just saying that you’re gonna need your head in the game-”

“Don’t start quoting f*cking High School Musical at me, Rogers. I’m not the one getting distracted here. Don’t talk and keep an eye out for the bastard at the same time, it’s improper manners.”

“First of all, I didn’t mean to quote High School Musical.”

“Sounded like you did.”

“Second of all, I’m not saying you’re distracted. I’m saying that this is pretty emotional, and when you get emotional-”

“When I get emotional? Are we forgetting who got so heated during Uno?”

“That game creates monsters, and you’re trying to throw me off.”

“What? I would never.” Tony sits up straighter. 1:47, 1:46…

“You’re twisting my words around, too. I’m not saying that this is something you do, specifically, nor am I saying that-”

“Blah blah blah blah blah, Rogers, do you ever stop trying to get on my nerves?”

“Do you ever want to actually face your problems?”

“No, I’d prefer to pay it off or punch it.”

Steve lets out a weary sigh of a man that is much older than he actually is. “Tony, be real for five seconds.”

“Or you could shut up and focus.” 1:26, 1:25

“I am focused. I’m trying to get Peter back too, Tony. You’re not doing this alone, and you’re not the only one that cares about him.”

“Excuse me?” Tony stands up even though Steve can’t see him from a block over. “Last I checked, you’re not the one that’s on his paperwork, his legal guardian-”

“I train with him-”

“A teacher!”

“But I also show up to his science fair and I see him nearly every day, when we’re not out doing missions.” Steve presses on. “That’s what I’m trying to say, Tony. I get that you see him as your son, but I see him as a nephew.”

“Don’t imply you’re like a brother to me.” Tony tries to sound offended, but it comes out more like he’s been strangled underwater.

“I implied I’m like a brother to Potts. Figures you’d assume that it’s all about you.” Steve replies, but there’s little bite to it. Tony shakes his head, disturbed that the man actually made a funny comment. It’s the worst when that happens.

54, 53…

“Got less than a minute.” Tony interrupts the banter.

“You swear you’re good?”

“Yeah, whatever. You act like I’d do something stupid when Peter is on the line.”

“Not what I meant.”

44, 43… 39, 38…

They fall into silence as the seconds tick down. FRIDAY is the only one who speaks, stating, “Detecting inter-dimensional wavelengths, Boss. He’s approaching fast. Adjusting time limit.”

The clock jumps from 32 seconds to 20. Tony flexes his fist, crouching low into a runner’s stance and bracing his feet against the wall. His screen centers a target around the empty street below, the suit blasters whirring to life. Thank Whatever that it’s nearing 1AM in a quieter neighborhood.

“10 seconds.” FRIDAY informs him.

9, 8… 5, 4, 3-

The streets lights flicker on and off, one of them bursting. The shattered glass falls to the street below as the entire street goes dark, including inside the buildings. There’s a humming in the air, and built up pressure that makes alerts go off in Tony’s suit.

2, 1.

As soon as Ohnn appears in a flash of white and orange light, Tony is on him.

He jumps down from the sky and a laser beam strikes the air where Ohnn just was. Ohnn had slithered backwards in a flash, hitting his back on a dumpster. When Tony lands on the ground, Ohnn’s tech teleports him behind Tony and out into the street, screeching out:

“You gotta be quicker than that!”

“Smart mouthing me isn’t going to be nearly as fun as you think it is.” Tony flies up higher, shooting down at Ohnn with the high energy unibeam from his chest. Ohnn twists around to avoid it, and Tony manages to corral him towards-

Steve drops down behind Ohnn on top of a car, the thud so loud that it dents the hood and the car alarms ring out. Someone screeches from a balcony that that’s their car, but Steve ignores and bull rushes towards Ohnn.

The snake reacts too quickly. He drops down onto the ground and strikes at Steve’s legs, rolling forwards when Steve jumps to avoid the strike. Tony lands in front of him, but Steve swings back with a kick to Ohnn’s head.

The snake grunts, his head snapping to the side awkwardly. He spins around and drops to the ground. Tony reaches down and grabs the snake’s head, flying upwards as the snake-

“Oh, god, that is disgusting-”

His arms wrap naturally around Tony’s arm, attempting to bend Tony’s arm backwards and the elbow. Tony throws him against a brick wall, scraping his face alongside the brick. Blood smears on the wall and when Ohnn’s grip lessens, Tony pulls back.

Ohnn’s mouth is a bloody mess, the flesh of his cheek and eyebrow pulled backwards. Tony slams his head again, and again, and again-

“Tony, stop!”

He freezes for a moment, hissing when Ohnn cackles in his face. The blood dribbles down his chin and he reaches out with his claws at Tony’s neck, trying to bend the metal with his grip. For a moment, he considers not stopping, but this waste of life is the only real way Tony could get the answers he needs. Infuriated, Tony kicks him down, the snake grappling to catch himself on a balcony. Tony yanks him off when he almost gets to the top, and he hits the concrete next to Steve.

“I thought you said you could handle this!”

“He’s alive, isn’t he? That’s more than enough. For now.” Tony lands on the ground next to him.

Ohnn groans, his arm bent in the wrong way at the shoulder. He’s shaking, and for a blissful second, Tony thinks he’s giving up. But the snake turns his head backwards, too inhuman, to look at them over his shoulder.

“Funny, isn’ i’?” Ohnn slurs, wiping his mouth with one hand. The blood doesn’t stop pouring down his chin and neck, a mottled mess from the brick. “You star’ payin’ attention when the Parkers’ brat goes missin’.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean, huh?” Tony steps forward, fisting Ohnn’s collar and dragging him up. Ohnn’s face is still split into a smile. “What was all this for? Who are you working for?”

“I tried to tell everyone before,” Ohnn grabs at Tony’s wrist, a maniacal gleam in his eyes. “I was right. But no one wanted to listen. Well, now you’re listening. Now you see me. Us.”

“Who are you working for?” Tony repeats. Steve touches his shoulder, pulling him back from Ohnn. When the snake hits the ground, Steve presses his foot down on the man’s chest to keep him down.

“Calm down, Tony.” Steve’s words do nothing to actually calm him down, and the enraged monster in him rears it’s head.

“Don’t tell me to calm down-”

The lights turn back on in the street.

Or at least, that’s what they thought happened, at first.

However, the light only increases, and when Tony looks up, the street lamps, the buildings- they’re all falling away. Steve shields his eyes from the light as FRIDAY darkens Tony’s visor. Underneath Steve’s foot, Ohnn’s image slips into nothing but smoke, and Steve’s foot hits the white ground.

“What the hell is going on?” Tony turns in a circle. FRIDAY’s voice is muffled in his ear, glitching out and skipping like a broken record. D-D-D-Don’t- Panic- B-Boss-Boss-Boss-

Just as fast as the white light had surrounded them, the light disappears. They’re back in the street, and when Tony looks around for who might have caused this-

Ohnn is gone.

There’s a puddle of his blood on the sidewalk, but no sign of the man nearby.

That had to have been an illusion- Ohnn had turned into smoke, much like- that fake Peter had, when Loki had shown up. Tony seethes, barely able to hold back his anger as Steve rubs his eyes free of the light. “FRIDAY, scan the area right now. Where did he take off? Is there someone else nearby?”

“Scans indicate that no new life forms entered the area, and only Ohnn left.”

“So he’s still around, then-”

“However,” FRIDAY continues. “There had been unidentified drones deployed above. They had approached and attacked quick enough to disable my ability to talk to you, then created that light. Ohnn was able to escape.”

“Drones?” Tony echoes. That… That is unexpected.

If that was an illusion, wouldn’t that have been from Loki? He’s the only one Tony knows of nearby that could do magic like that. But if it wasn’t magic, but rather technology… It does line up with the fact that someone had sent the ransom over a secure line. Sure, Tony had hacked it eventually, but they had been smart enough to send the code not from their own base, but from that storage unit.

Loki isn’t tech reliant, he prefers to cast his own magic. But then, who had been in control of those drones?

“Where did the drones take off to?”

“They cloaked and exited range. I was unable to track them down, but I was able to pick up the direction where they had come from: Oscorp Tower in the Manhattan area.”

“Isn’t Oscorp somehow involved in how Ohnn and Peter both got their abilities?” Steve is blinking hard- the light must have been brighter than Tony had been able to see, considering he had a darkened visor.

“It is. That’s also where Dr. Connors worked.” Tony’s jaw clenches. “He knew Peter’s father and he worked with Ohnn for a while. FRIDAY, scan Capscicle here for injuries.”

“Temporary eye strain from the light. He needs to rest his eyes for a little while and he’ll be right as rain.” FRIDAY replies.

“Good. Now call Natasha and let her know to cut off Ned and Loki. Loki is running an errand for us. He wants to be useful, then we’re going to let him be.”

-

Peter made the mistake of trying to sleep.

It wasn’t a bad dream. Not really.

He thought it would be a good idea to clear his mind and get some rest before his patrol that night. His mind was being f*cking stupid and his body was too, acting like it couldn’t tell the difference between being chased by a starving bear and having fun eating somewhere with new (friends?) acquaintances. So he laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling with the lights off, watching as afternoon sunk into evening. And he recalled a memory he hadn’t though about in a long time.

When he was five years old, he had been laying on the rug in the Parker’s living room, his hand raised in the air and watching the fan blades spin around. The sunlight from the window would dance with each turn, and he could hear Aunt May giggling. The soft fuzz of music from the kitchen and the smell of dinner made Peter sit up on his elbows, smiling when he saw Uncle Ben dancing with her.

Sometimes they would have their own little world, just the two of them. Peter could look in as an outside observer, seeing the precious moments like this. Dancing, singing, laughing, all of it so full of love that Peter equated it to watching a movie.

This time, however, Peter’s chest had hurt so badly.

He knew he was happy. He knew that Uncle Ben and Aunt May were happy.

So why was he also sad?

Being sad would confuse him, would make his head feel fuzzy, disconnected from the world around him. He sat there and watched them in their own little world, and wondered what their life would be like if Peter hadn’t been pushed into it.

Oh. Peter had thought, watching Ben spin May, forgetting about stirring the noodles in the pot, and the two of them panicking when it boiled over. But May was laughing, because she’s always such a lively person.

His chest hurt because he felt guilty.

Peter didn’t remember much about his parents. They were gone often enough that Uncle Ben and Aunt May would take care of him for months at a time, sometimes. But Peter would always sit at the window and wait for them to pick him up when they got back.

And Peter thinks of the last time they returned, the last day he spent with them, and everything was fuzzy. He knows his dad had picked him up and lifted him into the air, had kissed his cheek and Peter had laughed and laughed and laughed. He knew his mom read him bed time stories, and she would do silly voices.

But not their faces. Not the stories they would tell, not what the silly voices sounded like. When Peter tried really hard to think about it, he’d just see something fuzzy.

Guilt hit him hard. He’s so happy with Uncle Ben and Aunt May, that he can’t remember his parents.

And then he’s guilty, because he parents would leave him here and in Ben and May’s world. They never asked for him, but they took care of him. So why had he been sitting by the window, waiting for these strangers to come home?

He’s guilty because he’s sad. He’s sad because he’s happy. It all just goes round and round, like the ceiling fan.

That was the last thought he had before he fell asleep, and that’s where his mistake bit him in the ass. Because he dreamed about Ben and May, he dreamed about his first foster family. He dreamed about Neri.

The names and faces swam in Peter’s mind, an amalgamation of memories that didn’t make sense. In the first dream, Peter and Ben were riding a boat, the cold wind in Peter’s hair and making their noses and ears grow red. But they were smiling so wide, facing the wind and watching the skyline pass by. The sky was orange and red and so colorful Peter didn’t want to look away.

But he did. He turned to tell Ben that this was such a good day, and he’s so happy that they got to go together. But then Peter remembered that this had never happened.

“What’s wrong, bud?” Ben cupped his cheek, his smile fading. “It’s your birthday, you aren’t supposed to frown.”

Peter couldn’t ask. He didn’t want to know how Ben was at his 11th birthday with him like they planned to be, because he had died when Peter was 10. The Ben that’s in front of him has no bullet holes in his chest, and Peter isn’t hiding under his coat, trying to stop the blood.

“Ben, where do you go when you die?”

Ben had never been religious, he thinks. They never went to church of anything, but he wouldn’t stop Peter from finding religion, if he wanted to.

“I don’t know, Pete. Where do you think?”

“With you.” Peter replied. “Where you went.”

Peter awoke feeling wrong. Ben’s face kept appearing as he laid back down, tugging the covers off. He felt sweaty.

The second dream was the parade. The balloons were flying high up in the sky, and Peter was so excited for the Captain America balloon to get close enough. May squeezed his hand tighter when someone bumped into them, tugging him close. Peter, for some reason, could hear her heartbeat.

It kept getting louder and louder, and faster and faster, and- “What’s wrong, May?”

“Nothing, bubah,” May said, and Peter couldn’t feel her hand. “We’re almost to the fair, are you excited?”

“Is Ben coming?”

“Right after he’s done with work.”

That’s not right. Peter knows that Ben was away.

“May, are you gonna die?”

This conversation was not on that day. This was at a science fair, when he was 7 years old. Peter’s peers all had their parents present, all of them together. And Peter couldn’t tell what to feel. Sad? Happy? Guilty?

Sad his parents aren’t there?

Happy that Aunt May and Uncle Ben are?

Guilty that he doesn’t feel sad?

This May, however, is at the parade. And they’re almost to the fair, like Peter and she were supposed to go to before Peter got lost. Before May had her heart attack, and before it was just Peter and Ben, and the little world Ben and May had together was lost.

“Bubah, where is this coming from?” May says, and Peter mouths the words as she tells him, “I’m not going to leave you, Peter. Are you feeling fuzzy again? It’s okay if you’re not feeling well, I’ll help you feel all better, just like last time, remember?”

Peter shook his head. “I just miss you.”

May looks sad. Peter’s eyes sting with tears. “I know.”

Peter woke up that time feeling like he needed his inhaler. But he knows he didn’t need his inhaler anymore. He closed his eyes again, desperate for the dreams to go away. They didn’t.

His third dream was of his first foster family. Peter had spent a month at a group house, and he had grown quiet. He wanted to talk, he really did. But sometimes his mouth just wouldn’t open, and he didn’t know what to do to make it stop. His therapist tried her best, told him that it’s okay to be overwhelmed.

Peter had wanted to argue. This isn’t the first time. I should be used to this now.

But that thought had struck him with so much guilt, he couldn’t breathe.

He was sitting at dinner with his first foster family, feeling the brunt of one of those days. The grief that took his voice, that made his whole body ache and his eyes feel hot, and him feel small. He kept poking at his dinner, but the nagging voice in his head is reminding him that the dinner table is wrong. It’s not the real one he remembers. In the dream, this table looks like the one from his third foster home.

Chandler tapped the table to get Peter’s attention.

The couple that took him in, Karen and Devon, had their own son. He was 16, and Peter is 10, but Chandler was really nice to him despite the age difference. Peter thought he was being nice because he knew what happened to Ben.

He points his middle and ring finger towards his chest and moves them up, then makes a claw with his right hand and touches his left fist. Peter, who had only been here for a month, has no idea what this means. He doesn’t know much ASL, unlike their family, who had been learning since Chandler lost his hearing.

Chandler isn’t mad that Peter doesn’t know. He taps the table for Karen’s attention, and Karen shows Peter what he means.

“Feeling fuzzy?” Karen repeats the action, teaching Peter how to make the signs.

Fuzzy. He doesn’t know if everyone even understands what he means when he tells them that’s what he’s feeling. But they never question him about it.

May and Ben did that too.

Peter nodded his head. Chandler raised his hands again, signing something else Peter doesn’t know yet. Karen teaches Peter what each one means, her voice is soft and her hands are gentle.

“Do you want watch Star Wars?”

Chandler laughs when Peter sits up straighter, and he already knows the answer.

Peter opens his mouth to reply, but they’re no longer sitting at their dinner table, but walking down the streets of New York. Peter is holding Karen’s hand, wondering why they wanted to foster to adopt him of all kids. He holds on tight to her hand, desperate not to let go this time. Karen doesn’t mind if it hurts.

The sky gets dark, and Peter holds onto her hand even when the debris falls through the sky and hits them.

He jolted out of his sleep with that dream, tossing and turning. The evening is now night, but Peter is not rested. They aren’t bad dreams. He thinks. He doesn’t know why he feels like scratching at his skin.

Wanting to try just one more time, Peter lays back down.

Peter hates cigarettes. At his 7th foster house, it always smells like cigarettes. He goes to school covered in the smell, so much so that his teachers keep accusing him of smoking in the bathroom. They only stopped when Peter started crying and told them he was sorry, really sorry, but he couldn’t wash his clothes to get the smell out because they weren’t allowed to use his foster father’s laundry room.

At his 8th foster house- where Peter wears long sleeves to cover up the burn scars on his arm that made his social worker move him and Neri- doesn’t smell like cigarettes, but disinfectant. All the time.

Neri and Peter sit on the porch, locked out of the house again. She came from the 7th foster house to this one with Peter, which doesn’t happen all that often. He thinks. He’s still only 11, and been in the system for a year. Neri wouldn’t be able to tell him if it’s normal or not, because she’s only 7 years old.

He doesn’t know much about her, or where she comes from. She sounds like Brooklyn, but she doesn’t want to talk about it, so Peter doesn’t bring it up. He thinks it’s because of what happened at their last house, because Neri likes Peter so much that she doesn’t fight the social workers when he’s there, that they get to stay together.

“Do you know where we go when we die?”

Neri’s abrupt question startles Peter. He could have sworn this conversation happened right before she was pulled to another house, and Peter never saw her in person again until her funeral. Right now, she’s supposed to ask when they’d be allowed back inside, and Peter would say, “When Miss Una says we’re clean.”

“I don’t know.” Peter replies, folding his hands and watching the sun sink in the sky. He’s back in Queens for the first time all year, and that’s his only comfort right now. “Where do you think we go?”

“With mommy.” Neri says, picking at the paint on the porch. “Peter, do you miss your mommy and daddy?”

Peter wishes his eyes would water. But they don’t. His parents had been strangers, and he doesn’t have anything left to remember their faces. That was destroyed in the Battle of Manhattan. And Peter won’t have access to Ben and May’s storage unit until he’s 18.

“Sometimes.” He says, and he doesn’t know if it’s a lie or not. “I miss a lot of people.”

“My mommy was really pretty.” Neri tells him, and it’s like it’s a secret. “I think she was an angel, before she died.”

“I think so too.”

“You do?”

“Well, where else would you get it from?” Peter pokes her side, and Neri giggles. She leans into Peter’s side, so he wraps his arm around her.

“Will you miss me?”

Peter looks down at her. She feels cold underneath his hand. “What do you mean?”

“You said you miss a lot of people. When I die, will you miss me?”

Peter didn’t stay in bed after that. He woke up feeling like everything was too close to him, sweating buckets but feeling cold as if he had a fever. He jumped out of the sheets and across the hall to the bathroom, stumbling in the dark when he turned on the shower. He didn’t bother with the lights.

-

Nightwing didn’t know he was heading to the Upper East Side until he was there.

Sometimes he has the audacity to zone out, on the slow nights or the bad ones. He gets there at about 10PM, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. It isn’t like he hasn’t handled stress before. Universe knows that he’s gone through more than he ever should have and that it’s a miracle he is even somewhat sane.

However, recently, the stress has been hitting him harder than he’d like to admit.

He’s finding it difficult to get to sleep when he finally gets the chance to. Going back and forth from Gotham to Bludhaven is taking its toll on him, but… someone else is bothering him.

He’ll end up tossing and turning over in his bed, kicking the sheets off of him in a desperate attempt to get comfortable somehow. And he starts wondering if he should check under the mattress for peas, because what else could be keeping him awake like this?

No peas are hidden under his mattress, so he can scratch off a fairy tale being the reason he’s up all night. A pea is bothering him, but it’s the mental kind. A feeling that is just out of reach, hounding his every waking thought and screaming at him to get up when he tries to rest. The moment he sets his head on his pillow, he knows that five minutes later he will be sitting upright, that bite of anxiety herding him wherever it wants to.

What? He wants to yell at his own mind. What am I missing?

Because that’s just it, he has to be missing something! It’s the same kind of itch that he gets when he can’t solve a case, the kind that makes him pace around his room at ungodly hours of the night.

Is it Two-Face? Firefly? Both of the villains are still out there in Gotham, biding their time before their next strike. Obviously it bothers him that they’re out there, that’s literally what he is here in Gotham for. But their cases haven’t felt any more unusual than they always are. Villains getting out of Arkham? Shiver his damn timbers, or whatever.

Which leads him to think: Is it Spiderman?

He’s gone from just a rumor the city is passing around to an actual, real person. A short, clearly young kid kind of person, but yes. Not a rumor.

In fact, he’s a very strong and fast, talented person that they need to keep an eye on. However, he isn’t the only vigilante to start working in Gotham outside of Batman’s team. He’s likely going to go down the same route as the rest of them, because Bruce’s rule hasn’t gone out the window just for Spiderman. If they don’t get the kid talking and on their side, then he’s gonna have to go.

And they’re sort of rooting for him to stay, even if only a couple of them have said it out loud. When Cass had sent that video, it had been their first time actually seeing SpiderMan, except, well, for Nightwing. But he had just seen Spiderman for the first time minutes before that. And in a short time, Spiderman has gotten Bruce’s attention, as well as Damian’s.

Hell, even Tim has been rattling on about the webs that Spiderman uses, and Cass sent a thumbs up for him. Stephanie and Duke are of the impression that it would be cool to have another meta on the team, and Jason hasn’t said anything on what he thinks. All Nightwing knows is that he’s an impressive kid, probably trained from an even younger age than he is now. That accounts to how easy it is for him to get a villain like Ohnn on defense.

Nightwing was impressed too, but more-so because of the person he met, not the video. The kid is witty, and he saved Nightwing before he went splat on the concrete, so he finds it hard to imagine himself wanting to kick the kid out of Gotham. In fact, it’d be nice to have him around.

And yet, Nightwing doesn’t think that’s the case for the sleepless nights. Or it might be part of it. It isn’t until he finds himself looking down at a familiar figure sitting on a roof that he thinks he knows why he can’t sleep at night.

It’s the Elusive Peter, out for a night of city-watching again.

The kid isn’t sitting on a ledge again, which gives Nightwing some peace of mind. Despite the fact that it’s nearing the end of October, he doesn’t have a jacket on, only wearing a long sleeve night shirt, plaid pajama bottoms, and socks. He’s holding his knees and leaning back on a wall of a storage closet on top of the apartment building that he’s been living in, over the Benny’s restaurant.

Nightwing hangs back for a moment, peering down at the kid. He doesn’t have any new injuries, and in fact, looks bruise free. But it has been a while since Dick saw him, and hasn’t just heard from the others what he’s been up to.

What he lacks in bruises, he makes up for in red and puffy eyes, like he’s been crying. Peter…

Peter looks more tired than a kid should ever feel.

It’s not the kind of tired where it can be cured with a good night’s rest. It’s a tired that he himself knows all too well, like looking in a reflection of himself. Maybe this is what Bruce had meant when he told Dick that he saw his own past in Dick, when he had just lost his parents.

Sitting in the silence of the rooftops like this, Peter looks small. The kid always looks small for his age, but that isn’t what he means. It’s like the kid is trying to make himself blend right in to the backdrop of the city.

And that… That won’t do.

Nightwing’s feet carry him towards the roof that Peter is on, thinking that this has to be the reason why he decided to go on patrol on a night that he was supposed to get some sleep. It’s been Peter, the whole time. Thinking about this poor kid who’s become a pawn in the adults’ business, who won’t ask for their help unless they meddle, that’s what he can’t stand.

“Kid, aren’t you cold? It’s like, 35 degrees out. You’re gonna get sick.”

He doesn’t know why that’s his opening. Their last conversation had gotten somewhat unpleasant, because Nightwing ended up pushing too soon. This time, he wants it to go right. He wants to gain Peter’s trust, so Peter will let them help him properly.

Peter looks away from the city lights, rubbing his hands over shivering arms. He gives Nightwing a shaky smile. This close, Nightwing can tell he was right that Peter had been crying. His eyes and nose are red and puffy, there are bags under his eyes. He’s lost weight since Nightwing last saw him. (Not okay, not at all, because Peter was malnourished before and it’s only getting worse.)

He doesn’t look surprised to see Nightwing.

“Oh hey, Mom, you’re back.”

There it is, the easy going nature that the kid has. Nightwing grins as he sits down next to Peter- not too close, because Peter tenses up when he thinks that’s what is about to happen.

“Haha, very funny.” There are droplets of water dripping from the wavy curls on Peter’s head to his shoulders. As if he had just bolted right out of the shower and came up here, without a thought to himself. Nightwing tries not to show the strike of worry that eats at him, instead reaching out to ruffle Peter’s hair.

Thankfully, the kid allows the contact without looking ready to run. He doesn’t move at all, though. It’s like he’s frozen to the spot. Nightwing pulls back his hand, and doesn’t miss the way the kid’s shoulders relax, but his eyes track the movement of Nightwing’s hand, as if not wanting him to stop. Mixed signals on this front… he wants the contact but is afraid of it, maybe.

“Why are you out here with your hair wet?” Nightwing can’t hold it back any longer. There’s no one else looking after the kid, and even if Peter hates him for it, he’s gonna have to bring it up. “You’re really gonna get sick that way.”

“I don’t get sick. I have an indomitable immune system, my doctor said so.” Peter replies casually, but it’s moot when Nightwing can see him shivering and hear his teeth chattering.

“They did, huh…?”

“You sound skeptical, but I assure you, I only ever have to go for my yearly visit and my vaccination shots.” Peter sniffles, and squints when he realizes this doesn’t help his case. Nightwing leans a little closer to Peter’s side because he has a heating system in his suit.

“So you’re testing your limits?”

“Just… felt like getting out of my room.” If Peter notices what Nightwing is doing, he doesn’t point it out. He doesn’t lean away, but he doesn’t lean closer, either. Just… stuck.

“Kid…”

“I’m being safe.” Peter doesn’t quite get what Nightwing is worried about. “I know you guys know where I live, and we are literally on the roof of that building right now. I took the fire escape and there aren’t any hardened criminals on top of the burger joint.”

As if the kid’s only concern is whether or not he gets shot. Nightwing briefly considers if kidnapping Peter to the Wayne Manor is a reliable option. The others would back him up, but they would disapprove of the method. Batman could shut his damn mouth about it- he should have taken the opportunity those few nights ago to at least bring it up to Peter when he managed to get the kid in the Batmobile.

“You could at least bring a jacket with you. Your immune system can only bring you so far.” Nightwing points out.

“I’ve been out here for two minutes.”

This kid… Nightwing internally shakes his head. He has a feeling he should pick and choose his battles… or… he could fight this one, in a sneaky, underhanded way. It’s for Peter’s benefit, so he can forgive himself for it.

“Well… seen anything worth watching yet?”

Peter releases a short breath, looking at Nightwing for a heartbeat, searching his face. The kid is always trying to read him, trying to figure him out with those clever eyes. Even when he met Peter as himself, Peter had been wary, had searched Dick’s face as if searching for a reason to run.

He must find something there, because Peter has the faintest smile.

“I watched two rats fight over a hot dog down there. Not really a new sight, though.”

“That happen a lot in Queens?” Nightwing grins back.

Peter chuckles, raising his voice to regal Nightwing with a tale. “The rats own the city. They have a rat king in the sewers who’s at war with the crocodiles.”

“Sounds harrowing, I shudder to think of it.” Nightwing pretends to shudder, in the process, getting just a bit closer to Peter, so he can feel the heat from the suit. “You ever met this rat king?”

“No, not yet. It’s on my bucket list though.”

“So, what else is different from Queens? Besides, you know, the obvious.”

Peter considers his words for a moment, then says, “The noise is different.”

“You mean… city noise?”

And Peter, for the first time, offers up information about himself first. Without Nightwing having to ask. “Yeah. It’s like… I dunno. Just different enough that it’s hard to sleep sometimes. It sounds stupid…”

“No, it doesn’t.” Nightwing is quick to swipe that thought away, hoping Peter would get that he could tell Nightwing anything, and he won’t think it’s stupid. Actually, it’s Nightwing who says something stupid. He talks about himself. “I get that. My family and I use to travel all the time when I was a kid, and the cities used to sound different.”

He pauses, wondering why that had slipped out so easily. He doesn’t talk about him when he’s Nightwing. He always draws that line, between vigilante and civilian, for his safety, for his health.

However, he thinks Peter really needs someone to get it.

“You ever been to the countryside?”

Peter shakes his head, all of his attention turned on Nightwing rather than the city. And when he speaks, Nightwing can still feel sweet country air on his skin, hot and humid. He can taste the honeysuckle one of the older kids showed him, the flower they’d snack on after a show. He can even hear the wind in the trees, followed by the memory of his mother’s voice.

“It’s nothing like here, like the big cities. Depending on where you are, they have these bugs, they’re called cicadas. They make noise all night long, talking to crickets and frogs outside your window. And let me tell you, it is way harder to sleep when you can only hear a frog in your ear. I’d prefer the cars honking and the cussing, sometimes, because man can those things yell.”

Peter laughs- a real, actual laugh, maybe picturing a frog like Dick is. He has dimples in his cheeks, and he only shivers when the wind passes by. Dick shields Peter from it, sitting up just enough to block it.

“I’m being serious, kid, they’re awful!” He insists, laughing with Peter, because the kid’s laugh is contagious. “They were out to get me, and me personally. All night long, just a yappin’ outside my window, and they only got to stay because they ate the crickets, which were even louder.”

“Yappin’? What are you, eighty years old?” Peter snorts, and Dick gasps in mock offense.

“I’m seventy, young man, and not a day older.”

“I’ll let you think that, ‘cause I’m so nice.”

“Maybe I’ll have to put some frogs outside your window and see how you describe it.” Dick says, and Peter is shaking his head. Unfortunately, the air grows silent for a few heartbeats, leaving Dick to wonder what else to talk about. He got Peter laughing, so maybe he should keep talking about frogs?

Is that what kids like these days? Dick actually doesn’t know. His most recent experience with a teenager this young is Damian, and the kid usually only laughs when one of them falls or he proves them wrong about something.

Dick is quiet too long (it’s only been a couple seconds), because when he opens his mouth to tell Peter about a time he fell into a lake (this will surely get him to laugh more), he’s struck by how quickly Peter’s smile has turned sad.

The kid is trying to maintain it, trying not to shrink in on himself. Dick inwardly panics, wondering if his silence had startled Peter back to the start. Then, he catches the way Peter’s brows furrow, and he has a hard time meeting Dick’s eyes.

“…It’s been a while since I last saw you around here.” Peter breaks the quiet first.

That certainly wasn’t what Dick was expecting. Had he actually noticed Dick doesn’t patrol around here, but rather in other districts? Or is it because he’s only seen Red Hood around these parts since their first encounter?

“Yeah… I’m back and forth between places right now. There’s a lot going on.”

Which is the truth, but it suddenly feels like an excuse. He just doesn’t know how to tell Peter that he wishes he could visit every day to check on him. But he can’t, not with everything going on. Not with Two-Face, Firefly, and Ohnn out there.

“Right…” Peter chews on the inside of his cheek, his legs getting closer to his chest as if to get smaller. He now looks at his hands, playing with his fingers. “Um… I spoke to Mr. Red Hood…”

“Mister Red Hood? You know, you can just call him Red Hood, right?”

“My aunt and uncle taught me to be a polite young man, thank you very much.”

Dick laughs, earning a chuckle out of Peter. It’s more subdued than before.

This can only be about one thing. Ohnn still hasn’t been caught, and Peter has been spending his time inside. Dick can imagine the toll it must be taking on him, being all alone save for the restaurant owner and his customers. He can’t even go to school, can’t meet new friends to help him feel like a kid rather than a hostage.

If this was Dick, he would have already asked a million questions by now about how their investigation is going- hell, he would have started investigating himself, like Peter must have been doing when he tailed Ohnn that day. It’s a no-brainer that the kid wants to get back to his life that he had before things went to sh*t.

And another image strikes Dick, makes his blood run cold, recalling what Jason described about Peter’s injuries. Had he met Ohnn again? But no, they would have known. He isn’t injured.

But he had been injured. He’s got to be terrified that it will happen again.

“Is this about that man, Ohnn? Is everything okay? Red Hood told us about it, you know we’re looking for him, right? We won’t let him hurt you.”

Peter’s brows furrow as Nightwing speaks, and before he can even finish, Peter is shaking his head. “No, no, I’m not scared, or anything.” Peter glances up at Nightwing’s face, and then away just as fast. “I was… I mean, I apologized to Mister Red Hood, but I didn’t get to apologize to you.”

What???

“Me? What for?”

“I kinda snapped at you, that wasn’t cool of me.” Peter’s words feel like a punch to the guts. It hurts to see how he struggles to get the works out properly, stuttering to phrase it the right way. “Sometimes I get… I dunno, I get angry out of nowhere sometimes, and I don’t like when that happens. I’m sorry.”

Peter won’t look at him.

Something about that bothers him. That Peter is picking at his nails, that he’s gone back to feeling tense. That he won’t meet Dick’s eye, and his face is twisted with guilt.

“I’m not mad at you, kid.” Dick’s voice comes out even softer than he meant it, as if they’re sharing a secret. “Did you think I was mad at you?”

“I dunno.” Peter shrugs, his voice catching.

He did.

Peter doesn’t have to say it. He can’t hide how he’s feeling, the kid wears his emotions on his sleeve. Especially not after a night where he’s obviously been crying. And briefly, Dick wonders with a heavy heart if Peter came out into the cold with his hair wet not because he was just a kid who thought it wouldn’t matter, but because he was punishing himself.

“Red Hood told us about Tony, too, you know.” Dick says slowly, and Peter finally looks back up at him. The kid is waiting for the other shoe to drop, mistrust gleaming in his eyes. “I heard you care about him a lot, and it’s obvious at that time that you did. Peter, I’d be upset if someone thought that someone I cared about had hurt me.”

There it is again. Disbelief, like he hadn’t thought Dick would reply this way.

“It’s just-” Peter is contemplative, conflicted. He bites his cheek, looking around them for the words. He grows frustrated with himself, and it’s almost like he’s forcing the words out of his mouth.

“…I don’t- I don’t…” Peter says, and Dick almost tells hims he doesn’t have to say anything, if only to get the kid to feel more comfortable, but Peter plows through. “I don’t trust easy.”

Dick falls silent.

Peter is choosing his words carefully. He is the one making this first step, not Dick. And if that’s what he wants, Dick isn’t going to do anything but listen.

“But Tony, you know, he like… He put in so much effort for that. Just for me.” When Peter says ‘me’, his voice cracks, and he looks so distraught that Dick wants to hug him. “And I wasn’t his foster kid, then, either. I was just some random kid, but he still did that. So I just… He’s a good guy.”

He speaks as if the notion that Tony, let alone anyone, putting that kind of effort into him is a fantasy concept.

How could anyone ever let this happen to him?

He’s so young, so new to the world and yet he knows far too much. His eyes are like that of Jason’s, of Tim’s, of Stephanie, Duke, and Damian. His eyes are like Dick’s, when he looked in the mirror. Knew too much, too fast, and was robbed of the childhood he should have had.

It’s cruel. It’s mean, and so twisted, and the older he gets, the more kids he sees with those eyes, the more it feels like the world has never been fair. Dick’s chest pangs with grief thinking about it- thinking about Peter, and what could have made him think this way.

He wants to scoop Peter up and take him home. Give him a decent, proper meal, and a warm bed, and a house where he doesn’t have to look over his shoulder every day. Not when he’d be surrounded by people who would never let anyone hurt him again.

But Peter doesn’t trust easily. He can’t ask Peter to do this, not when he knows Peter would run away from him like he does everyone that tries to get close.

If this is the case, then Dick will put in the effort. He’ll make sure that Peter can never doubt his trust, just like how he never doubts Tony. In order to get, someone has to give. And he thinks he knows how to do this. By going one step at a time.

“Do you want to start over?”

Peter scrunches up his face in confusion, tilting his head at Dick, because this seemingly has nothing to do with what Peter just told him. It’s adorable, even if Peter still has his walls up around Nightwing. “I mean, let’s introduce ourselves. We’ve never done that.”

The kid raises a brow at him.

“But didn’t Mister Red Hood tell you my name?”

“Yeah, but I’m still meeting you.” Dick holds his hand out to Peter, and rather than faking a cheery, over the top voice, he leans back on the wall and hopes it comes across as important. That Nightwing cares about him, wants to get to know him.

“Hey, I’m Nightwing, it’s nice to meet you.”

Peter stares at his hand for a long time, his mouth open as if the words are caught in his throat. But eventually, his gaze flickers up towards Dick’s face, and there.

There it is.

A glimmer of hope, beneath the defenses he’d built up. A sparkle in his eyes that Dick is so, so grateful for, because it means Peter really was reaching out just now. Peter smiles smally, a hesitant thing, but no less warm. He reaches out and grabs Dick’s hand, his hands so cold.

“Nice to meet you Mister Nightwing. I’m Peter Grayson.”

…

…Huh??????

Dick pauses, his smile almost faltering.

“Grayson?”

Grayson!?

See now, Dick has not gotten a chance to talk to the others in a couple of days, because the students have their mid-term exams, Jason is off doing what he wants, and Bruce has been all in on sniffing out where Two-Face and Firefly are. He’s been in Bludhaven, but he does know that Tim had said he ‘learned something interesting’ when he met Peter as himself.

This had to be it, and why those three teenagers had giggled when they brought it up briefly.

Those little sh*ts…

It caught Dick off guard, but… it’s not like it’s truly a unique last name. Plenty of people have it that aren’t related to Dick, and Peter is one of them. Just… it’s weird, hearing this kid use his last name at all. That’s it, right?

That’s all there is to it?

Wait, is this… actually Peter’s last name? He had just met Dick Grayson two weeks ago, and Peter strikes Dick as the type to avoid using his real name, even if he’s trying to trust someone.

Peter makes a face at him, and in a voice that says this isn’t the first time this has bothered him, asks, “Is that an uncommon name here? Or is there a villain with that last name? Everyone I introduce myself to does that whole repeaty thing.”

Dick struggles for an explanation. He doesn’t want to make the kid think that he thinks Peter is lying about his last name, but it had truly caught him off guard. He clears his throat, and he doesn’t have to force out a smile because he laughs awkwardly.

“It’s just, uh, that Bruce Wayne’s oldest son has that last name.”

“That’s the old guy that’s on, like, every billboard in the city, right?”

At this, the awkward laughter turns into real laughter. Oh, man, he had thought that their family calling Bruce ‘old’ had been just a joke at this point still- but now kids who aren’t even related to him use that as his first descriptor? He’ll have to tell everyone later, after chewing them out for not warning him about Peter’s last name.

“Yeah, that’s him.” Dick, hoping this doesn’t come out as fishing for information, asks, “So, who do you get your name from?”

Peter grins again, relaxing into the wall behind them. “My dad.”

“Tony? Wait, sorry, that’s your…”

“Foster father.” Peter reminds him gently. There’s a soft look on his face as he speaks now, more vulnerable than he had shown Dick so far. “My mom and dad died when I was little.”

There are many ways to become a foster kid, so he hadn’t wanted to guess. But it does hurt that Peter experienced loss and grief when he was that little.

Peter squints at his knees.

“Hey, when I look up, you better not have the ‘pity the poor orphan’ face on.”

Dick huffs, shaking his head at the idea. “No, no, it’s not that face. I used to get that face too. I hated it.”

Which is correct. Dick had never despised anything more than when someone would give him that look, as if he was broken. Maybe because he didn’t believe he was, because he’s still alive and was doing something to process it. Maybe because it was a reminder that he was broken.

Peter is gently surprised, but he seems… appreciative that Dick would tell him that. He breathes a sigh of relief, and for the first time, he leans closer to Nightwing’s shoulder.

“It’s a terrible face.”

“Absolutely frustrating.” Dick says, and Peter grins, still looking at his hands on his knees. Dick prays he isn’t pushing his luck when he speaks, keeping his voice low. Almost low enough that Peter could choose to pretend he never heard it. “But what about your aunt and uncle?”

Peter had mentioned it earlier. If he had living relatives, then wouldn’t he have stayed with them, instead of going into foster care? The kid’s grin drops again, and he shrugs shortly.

“They both died a few years later, so I went into foster care.”

It isn’t fair.

But why would Dick tell him that? Peter knows it isn’t fair, and Dick knows it isn’t fair. There’s no use stomping it into the ground, and Dick refuses to be one of the people who can only say ‘sorry.’ He gets it, he doesn’t blame those people. But what good can come out of Dick’s past right now, other than being able to speak to Peter the way he wished someone would speak to him?

“What do you and Tony like to do?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Well, you two have like, a thing you two do together, right? My dad and I do puzzles together sometimes, it’s our thing we do.” Dick fails to mention the other thing, called fighting crime in spandex and Kevlar, but Peter doesn’t need to know that. “So what is it? Roller coasters? Baking? Shoplifting?” Dick guesses the last one with a fake semi-serious tone, and Peter shakes his head and laughs. “If it’s shoplifting, I’m not a snitch.”

“We don’t do any of those things. I think Tony would burn the house down if he tried to bake anything ever again.”

“So, what do you do?”

Peter hesitates, but he relents, and Dick gets to learn yet another thing about this mysterious Tony- and Peter. He hates that he’s filing away the information, that he’s going to tell the others about some of it. But this is the most that Peter has said about himself and Tony in ever.

But what he does note is the sparkle in Peter’s eye as he talks about Tony, and how the dark shadows on his face disappear. In this moment, he’s a kid who wants to talk about his dad. Maybe pretend that everything is normal, having a moment where the world isn’t trying to screw him over.

“Tony, uh, he’s a mechanical engineer. Not just a mechanical engineer, he’s the best in the world. Uh, in my- in my opinion.” Peter stammers at the end, grimacing as though he shouldn’t have said that. He fiddles with his hands as if building something in the air. “He makes robots, and planes, and, uh, all that stuff. We spend hours in the lab every day after school, and Pepper always has to drag us out of there ‘cause we forget that we have to eat and sleep sometimes. But it’s just- it’s so much fun, because he’s brilliant, and he teaches me everything he knows about engineering. We started building a bot together before all of this happened, and I really wish I could show you, ‘cause it’s super smart and tells funny jokes. We call them HAFI, cause Tony likes acronyms.”

This might be the most Peter has said to him in one sitting. Peter had been cracking jokes, but overall he’s a quiet kid, waiting for someone else to fill in the silence if he can. But apparently when you get the ball rolling, Peter can ramble. Dick can’t suppress his triumphant grin, that Peter doesn’t notice because he’s too busy talking.

“It stands for ‘Humorous Autonomous Friendly Intelligence’ but honestly, we named it like that because it sounds like ‘Happy’, which is Tony’s friend’s nickname. He looks and acts like a grump but he’s really not, ‘cause a grump wouldn’t go to birthday parties and wear stupid hats if he didn’t like you.”

He thought that Peter didn’t know too much about Tony’s work, but from what it sounds like, he and Peter work together a lot. If Peter is in this lab all the time after school, he’s bound to know more than he’s letting on.

(Then again, when Peter said this, he was new to town, had just been beaten up, and wasn’t trusting anyone.)

Tony is an engineer and it sounds like he gets work, if what Peter is describing is true. So he’s bound to at least have a name somewhere in the engineering world. There’s also two new names in the mix that might make it easier to find him and ask what the hell Ohnn is doing. Pepper must live with them, but Happy is just a friend. A nickname could go a long way if it isn’t just a personal nickname that Tony gave the guy.

“So you’re telling me that you can build robots? Dude!” Dick nudges Peter’s side with his elbow, and Peter attempts to hold back a shy smile. “You didn’t tell me you were a genius, kid, I would have tried to sound smarter.”

“I can’t build one on my own, I’m not that smart. I’m not as good as him.” Peter deflects, his face growing red. He doesn’t get compliments often, Dick guesses. Well, that’s gonna change tonight.

“But you can still build one, and that’s so frickin’ cool. Give yourself some credit, Peter.” Dick gently taps Peter’s shoulder with the back of his hand. They’re sitting close enough that Peter is no longer shivering from the cold and is instead shoulder to shoulder with Dick. Peter hugs his knees, almost leaning into him. “What other talents is Peter Grayson hiding?”

Peter gives a shaky laugh, tucking his fingers into the long sleeves of his shirt. The kid’s face pales, his ears getting redder and turning away from Dick. He must really not be used to talking about himself, because now he’s getting shy.

“What do you mean? I’m just Peter.”

“Any other hobbies? Like, music? Writing? Sports? What does Just-Peter do when he’s not building robots in his spare time?”

Peter gains some color back into his face, really thinking about it. He pouts his bottom lip as he searches for something, the silence stretching for a little longer than Dick expected. Oh, man, maybe he shouldn’t have asked? It’s not like the kid has much to do, considering he’s being hunted down by a madman.

“…I know some gymnastics.”

First, he’s relieved it wasn’t a bad question. Then, his interest is piqued ten times over. He blinks down at Peter, a smile slipping onto his face.

“Really?”

Peter is a small kid, doesn’t look very athletic, but maybe it’s because he wears baggy clothes all the time. It’s hard to tell if he has the muscle strength for it, but- well, this is good for Nightwing’s secret plan on getting Peter warmed up and tired enough to go to bed.

And really, if there’s one thing Dick can talk about, it’s gymnastics.

“Yeah. My, uh, dad was in gymnastics before he died.” Peter is suddenly very interested in his shoes. “But I couldn’t afford classes, so I never got too into it.”

“Too into it?”

Peter catches the tone in Dick’s voice and pries his gaze away from his very interesting, beat up converse to squint at him.

“You’re making a face like you-”

“I’m going first.”

Nightwing jumps to his feet, patting Peter’s knee as he does. Peter’s jaw drops, gawking at Nightwing as if he just said he could do real magic. Nightwing claps his hands together, and he turns himself upside down to stand on his hands.

He gives Peter a wide grin. “Can you do this?”

“I- I’m not warmed up. And it’s cold outside-”

“It’s okay if you can’t.”

“-What?”

“I mean, a handstand is hard. I get it. Maybe we can try something else.”

“I can do a handstand. Anyone can figure out a handstand.”

Nightwing raises a brow as Peter scoffs, getting to his feet, and files away for later that this trick somehow worked. It usually does. It worked on Jason, worked on Tim, worked on Damian- hell, it’s worked on Bruce a couple times.

And to his credit, Peter is in a handstand with little effort. He doesn’t even flinch at the tiny rocks on the roof, and even walks with his hands over to face Nightwing.

“All right, so you can do a handstand.” Nightwing sees Peter’s crooked grin. “But can you do a cartwheel?”

Nightwing is about to do one, but Peter beats him to it. It’s an effortless glide as he spins, landing once again on his handstand. Nightwing falls out of his handstand to crouch in front of Peter, pointing a finger at the kid’s playful smirk.

“I thought you said you didn’t know much about it.”

“I know enough.” Peter manages to shrug upside down.

“‘Enough’, you say. Alright, little punk, so how much do you know?”

Peter snickers, “Try me.”

“Round off.”

Peter lowers himself out of the handstand, jumping back to his feet pretty quick. Nightwing almost comments that he should be mindful of the blood rushing to his head, but Peter isn’t even phased. His face isn’t even red from hanging upside down.

He stretches his arms as though to do a cartwheel, adding a hurdle in the air. It’s great form, actually, and he is convinced Peter was downplaying how interested he was in gymnastics. Peter lands on his feet as if he’s done this trick millions of times.

…He clearly knows more than he let on.

“Front Walkover.”

Easy work, but he knew that.

“Back extension roll.”

Peter is smiling freely, more relaxed than Nightwing has seen him ever. If he’s bothered by the cold, he doesn’t let it show. He just shows off, even demanding that Nightwing has to do the same.

Handstand Pirouettes, front handspring, back handspring, an aerial cartwheel, front tuck, back tuck- Peter knows it all. When Dick is in Gotham, he runs a gymnastics class for the younger students, for beginners, so he knows the difference between a beginner and someone who has months of practice under their belt. Peter is the latter.

When Peter lands on his feet again after a back layout- which is certainly not for a beginner who’s never taken a class- Nightwing can’t contain himself. He claps Peter on the back, feeling sort of proud of Peter. Never taken a class, but he managed to do all of this?

“How did you learn this?” Nightwing asks. Peter’s face is a little red from running around, his hair is mostly dry and windswept, and he’s seemed to have forgotten the awkward air from before. He’s suddenly a different kid than the small one Nightwing had seen just 40 minutes ago.

“YouTube, mostly.” Peter explains, rubbing his hands together. There are little marks on his hands from rocks, and Nightwing almost winces. He shouldn’t have let Peter do this on top of a roof, now that he thinks about it. “But my grandparents had videos of their routines, so I used to watch that.”

“All of this from ViewTube, just videos?” Nightwing almost can’t believe it, but he does.

It’s almost instinct, to just reach out and ruffle Peter’s hair. He does it all the time to his brothers, so it isn’t until he’s already doing it that he realizes Peter might not appreciate it. But Peter doesn’t slap his hand away, and actually leans into his hand this time, suppressing a goofy smile.

And man, that was adorable.

“This is seriously impressive, kiddo. You’re really talented, I’m almost jealous.” Nightwing would add a thousand more compliments, if only to keep Peter smiling. He practically beams under the praise, like a plant seeing the sun.

But, unfortunately, all time comes to an end. Nightwing hears a crackle of his comm- they must have realized he was out, now, and they’re going to hound him at any second to get back to bed. Nightwing fixes Peter’s hair with a sigh.

“It’s getting pretty late, Pete. Sorry, but I have to get back.”

Peter nods, maybe expecting that, but he doesn’t look unhappy. “Yeah, I figured. Thanks, Mister Nightwing.”

“What for? And just call me Nightwing.”

He’s quiet for a moment, contemplative once again.

“I was having a bad night.” He says softly. “I missed my dad.”

-

He must have been delirious. He must have been, because why else would he have told Nightwing all of that? Why else did he act like a baby that needed cheering up?

The second Nightwing is gone, it all crashes down on Peter like he had been holding the sky, like a moron. He groans into his hand, the embarrassment radiating off of him. Foolish, childish, stupid, is what that was. How could he have acted like that?

Peter never should have come up to the roof in the first place.

After all of those dreams back to back- where they felt like nightmares, but could have been dreams- Peter had dunked himself in the cold water of the shower, barely got dressed, and climbed up to the roof. He swore it was because he needed to see the city lights and clear his head. No other reason.

(But if it was no other reason, then why didn’t Peter grab a jacket? Why didn’t he dry his hair first? Why did he let himself sit in the cold, feeling the sting in his fingers and the sharp pain in his lungs as it stuck to him?

He was angry with himself, is why. He knows his body isn’t good with the cold, and he did it anyway. On purpose. To feel something? Or was he just that angry at himself, that he wanted to feel the hurt?)

It was those nightmares- dreams- whatever he calls them. They’re the reason that Peter just started blabbing about himself to Nightwing, a stranger, practically. What was he thinking? He hadn’t even trusted Tim, Duke, or Stephanie- the teenagers that he swears are more trustworthy than adults. He hadn’t told them much about himself, had avoided the topic altogether.

But Nightwing was right there, minutes before Peter would have calmed himself down and gotten over it. And he tried looking for reasons not to tell him anything, tried to convince himself it was a bad idea. But the voice inside his head was quiet, for once. And his spider-sense only kept telling him:

‘safe. gentle. worried.’

It just… It felt like Tony, in a way. Not exactly, but close enough. And he started to feel guilty that he was so closed off from someone who was trying.

Worried, he had been told by his spider-sense. He cared if Peter was going to get sick. He was trying to make Peter laugh, and he talked about himself just to ease Peter. And ease, he did- it was so easy to talk to Nightwing, like they’re old friends. So Peter had to apologize.

He had been snippy with Nightwing, after all, and Peter- maybe he only apologized because he wanted to see his reaction. (No, because Peter genuinely felt bad for snapping at him.) He expected Nightwing to be upset, but his first reaction…

“I’m not mad at you, kid. Did you think I was mad at you?”

As if it had never crossed his mind to be upset with Peter. And Peter is so used to adults being angry at him, for not listening, for not understanding. The Avengers were the first adults in a long, long time that knew Peter as himself and never got angry with him. The idea never crossed their minds.

Why does he care so much? Why do they all care so much?

Peter reminds himself that they’re heroes. That he of all people should know why they care so much. He also sits on rooftops and talks to civilians, he sits with kids who are having bad days and listens to them too. He cares, he cares so much that it hurts, sometimes.

He wasn’t mad. And even if he doesn’t actually believe that Tony is a nice guy, he reassured Peter anyway. Because he knows it matters.

And man, when he told Peter they were in the same boat? That he had also lost his parents?

Maybe that was what did it. Peter is regretting opening his mouth, but also not. Because for the first time in weeks, he talked to someone who didn’t get mad that he rambles, that didn’t set off alarm bells that he shouldn’t get close to them. Spider-sense or otherwise. And his chest feels warm, and he keeps thinking about Nightwing ruffling his hair.

“Moron.” Peter sits down on the roof. He had promised Nightwing that he was going to get to bed, but really he’s waiting until he knows Nightwing is far enough away that no one will notice him slipping out into the night as Spider-Man.

“He’s just being nice.”

Because in reality, that’s what it is. Peter can’t equate him to Tony, because even Tony…

Peter might think of Tony as a dad, but he’s still just Peter’s teacher. A mentor, more than anything else.

Sure, Tony goes to all of his academic decathlon meets, helps him write his essays, and they sneak around to get fast food on days where they just really want a burger and are avoiding going to business meetings. But as much as Peter likes having Tony as his foster-dad, he still recognizes that he can’t call Tony ‘dad’ to his face. Because if Peter wasn’t Spider-Man, there would have been no reason for Tony to take him in as his foster-kid.

At most, he would have had an internship at Stark Industries, but been put back into the system with someone else. (Tony certified, because he knows that Tony would never let him stay with a bad foster parent. Never again.)

Nightwing isn’t his foster-dad. He isn’t even Peter’s teacher. He’s just a vigilante who sees Peter as a victim. Peter can’t get attached, because… Because he’ll go home, when all of this is over. And Nightwing won’t think twice about him again, because he’ll have other kids in Gotham to worry about.

Still, though. Peter looks at his hands, and how the divots from the rocks have disappeared. He had still felt a surge of pride and admiration when Nightwing complimented him. The same he gets from his mentors. From Tony and Pepper.

There’s the echo of his dreams, whispering underneath the aftermath of Nightwing’s leaving. All the people he’s lost…

His tiny anxiety attack at that stupid Batburger place had been triggered by Peter starting to trust someone who was being nice to him. He hadn’t had one in a long, long time, so it felt worse than it should have. He just- He was thinking about-

Westcott.

Peter rubs at his eyes, taking a cooling breath. It’s been two days since then, but Peter still feels the effect if he thinks too long about it. His mind must have conjured up his family members in order to remind him of the good, but all it had done was remind him of the events that led to Peter running away that December.

Ben and May… His first foster-family, that wanted to adopt him should everything go right… and Neri. Neri, his foster-sister, that he cared about so much, because she was such a sweet kid who deserved the world. All of them had-

And Peter couldn’t save them.

He really had been missing Tony, just as he told Nightwing. Tony isn’t a stranger to these types of dreams. Dreams where they remember the people they couldn’t save, dreams where they wake up feeling like a ton of bricks had fallen on top of them. Dreams that make them get up, get out of their rooms, and search for anything to distract and clear their minds.

Instead of finding Tony sitting in the living room, or heading down to the lab… Instead of seeing Tony’s face soften when he spotted Peter, where Tony would smooth his hair or pat his shoulder, and whisper, “Let’s go to the lab, bambino.” Instead of that, he had met a cold and empty night, in a strange universe he doesn’t belong to.

Nightwing isn’t Tony, but he really helped. And Peter hopes he doesn’t come to regret his half-sleepy, half-post-breakdown decision to talk. His therapist would be proud of him.

Peter forces back the pinprick of tears. No more crying.

He didn’t even know he still had it in him. But apparently he does. He just- He misses his people so much right now. He’d give anything to see just one of them, even if it’s just on a phone screen or whatever.

“Stop being a baby.” Peter growls at himself, blinking back the tears.

“Is this a bad time?”

“Yes.” Peter bites. Then freezes, feeling that pinprick at the back of his neck that someone was there. He hadn’t been paying attention again. Peter’s eyes widen and he whips around- not because of his spider-sense whispering to him-

we know! hey we know! here here here

-but because he recognized the voice. Peter’s jaw drops at the sight of the man behind him, standing on the rooftop in a proper black winter trench coat, a nice green tie, and his black hair pulled back out of his face. The sharp features that match his dignified voice and attire, contrasting his usual tricky personality.

Peter’s voice is caught in his throat. He’s sure he must be dreaming.

“Mister Loki?”

Loki has his nose scrunched with distaste, observing the roof and the city around them as one would observe a fishing warehouse. He doesn’t look at Peter as he talks, instead pacing closer while scoffing at a billboard that lays out what to do in each case of a villain breaking out of Arkham. “Out of all of the universes you could have been brought to, that fool picked a rather disturbing one, did he not? I half expected to find you dead when I first got here. So, congratulations for surviving in this filth, I suppo-”

Peter doesn’t care if it’s weird, that they’ve never done this before. That he’s only met Loki once or twice before now. He’s up from the ground in an instant, burying his face into Loki’s coat and hugging him tightly around his chest. Peter can smell a lingering of Stark Tower on his coat, and the smell of home hits him so hard he almost starts crying again. Loki stumbles back quite a few steps, sputtering in surprise and his arms up in the air.

“What in the world? What are you doing?”

“Sorry,” Peter manages to croak out, and he forces himself to let go of Loki just as quick as he hugged him. He takes at least ten steps backwards in a second, feeling his face grow hot with embarrassment, but it’s wavered with the awe he has to see Loki standing here at all. “I’m sorry. I just- Sorry.”

Loki stares at him with an unreadable expression. How can Peter say that he was so relieved to see someone he knows that he hadn’t thought about the repercussions of hugging a god that definitely views Peter like he’s just an ant?

“I have had worse greetings… do not do it again.” Loki clears his throat, and Peter nods furiously, thankful the god didn’t smite him or turn him into a toad or something.

“Wh-What are you… I mean…” Peter can’t get the words out.

It’s been weeks since he’s been here, and he hasn’t spotted a soul that he knew from home. He’s still not sure if he’s dreaming or not.

“You can imagine my surprise when my brother finds me and tells me that the Spider-Child has been snatched out of thin air by a snake.” Loki ambles towards the edge of the roof, peering down at the street. It’s the same gaze that Peter imagines he uses to watch Earth while on Asgard. “Stark is in a mess of worry, practically losing his mind, almost-”

“Is he okay?” Peter doesn’t think about interrupting, but he does it anyway. Loki side glances at him, but Peter doesn’t take it back.

“His health is fine.” Loki informs him. Peter prays that this means what he thinks it does, and that Tony’s heart isn’t in trouble because of Peter. “That does not matter and it bores me to talk of it. I came to provide my much needed assistance to the Avengers, of course, when I heard you were kidnapped.”

“You… came to help me?”

Peter is well aware of Loki and his Lokiness.

The god raises a brow, hearing the question beneath the question. “Yes, I did. Is that so hard for all of you to believe? Honestly, you would think that I was the one that kidnapped you.”

Loki scoffs, crossing his arms and looking out towards the city again. His eyes narrow for a moment, and Peter turns his own gaze to the skyline. There, among the lights, Peter notices a shadow cross between buildings. Peter waits, heart thudding in his chest, as Batman and Robin pause. But they don’t turn their eyes towards Loki and Peter.

Instead, the two vigilantes sink into shadows, headed in the opposite direction. They hold still for a few heartbeats to make sure, and then Peter turns his attention back to Loki.

“What has been going on, on their end?”

“They figured out who Dr. Ohnn is. Quite scatter-brained that one, despite the fact that he was brilliant enough to create a means to cross dimensions in such a menial way, a mockery of a god’s ability.”

“Yeah, uh, he’s a piece of work, alright.” Peter agrees, but he’s still caught on that… “Wait, so, they know who he is?”

“Yes. He is a disgraced scientist turned multidimensional traveler. They have not been able to catch him. He’s slippery, that one.” Loki sounds impressed by Ohnn, and Peter’s eye twitches. This is his life that’s been turned upside down, here. It isn’t impressive (it is) it’s a pain in the ass and very traumatic!

“In any case, they are now aware that you are in an alternate dimension.” Loki continues, sounding more bored about that… No, disappointed. “Stark has not yet figured out the technology behind Ohnn’s research, as the man never kept digital copies of his work. But he was able to track Ohnn’s signature through dimensions, albeit, he needed my help for the next part: finding you.”

Loki grins wickedly, all too pleased at the idea that Tony had to ask him for a favor. That doesn’t bode well, Peter thinks they should keep an eye on that.

“And here I am.” He gestures towards the city. “In this dilapidated, disgusting city. You know, I could appreciate the pure chaos that this city exudes, but… There is something nasty about it that I can not bear to look at.”

Peter wonders if the God would be able to sense if Gotham is alive, like so many Gothamites say it is. Sometimes, Peter believes them.

“…Tony was looking for me?”

Loki turns back to stare at Peter, now, his brow furrowed and his eyes calculating. “You thought he was not?”

Peter’s face feels warm. “I just… I dunno, I thought he would, but-” He has no idea how to explain that he trusts Tony with his life, but he has a stupid parasite in his brain that tries to convince him otherwise.

“Searching for you is all that Stark is doing.” Loki says, and Peter’s chest feels light. “Again, doesn’t matter. Ohnn arrives every few days into our home dimension, and before an Avenger is able to catch him, he makes his way back here-”

“It’s the same for me. I get just close enough and then he jumps away.” Peter clenches his fist, realizing that… It wasn’t just him, after all. His mentors were struggling to catch Ohnn as well.

“Yes, yes, I figured as such, since you had not arrived back to the dimension you belong in.” Loki waves Peter’s interruption off, and Peter wonders if he’s just getting lucky that Loki isn’t annoyed with him yet. “Well, Thor asked me for a favor, and here I am.”

“You came to-”

“Get you? No.” Loki’s words make Peter snap his mouth shut, and he glances away from the god. “Why are you making that face? If I could just simply grab you and go, I would. If I tried to bring you back on the path that I take, your entire body would turn to dust for good.”

“…Oh…” Peter nods slowly.

“The first matter we had to overcome was that you had been out of your school for two weeks. Stark had told your teachers you contracted a ‘cold’ and to prevent you from infecting your fellow students, you would take your classwork at home and rest.” Loki explains.

“Wait, what about-“

“Your teachers accepted this, but now it has been two weeks. Stark could not send you back, as you were not there, and I was told that if you did not return, that is when people would start getting suspicious. Maybe assume that they should take you away.”

Peter’s voice is gone, his entire body growing cold not from the night air, but from anxiety welling up inside him. No, not anxiety. Fear.

“They can’t take me from Tony-“

Loki ignores him again. “Of course, I granted them another benevolent favor. A quick conversation with your little friend and a snap of my fingers, and my illusion magic has that covered.”

It’s his turn to stare at Loki. He waits for Loki to start talking over him again, but it appears Loki is waiting for his question this time.

“…You spoke to Ned? Is he-”

“Also beside himself with worry about his friend? Yes.” Loki interrupts, and Peter thinks he should have expected that. Any irritation with that is washed away as he thinks about Ned, and how scared he must be that Peter just disappeared like that. And now Ned is-

“Illusion?”

Loki grins- no, it’s more like… the way a fox grins when it gets away with something. Peter can’t find it in him to be anything but grateful. “An illusion of you, Spawn. It goes to school and interacts as you would, based on the rather thorough schedule and list of habits your friend gave me. We gave it a test run for the last week, and all is running smoothly. Not a single soul has suspected that any issues are underfoot.”

Peter’s mouth presses into a thin line, relief hitting him so hard he almost reaches to sit down. He suppresses a sniffle, instead saying, “Thank you so much, Mister Loki. I-I-”

“No sappy ideas, Spider.” Loki crosses his arms, and Peter nods numbly. “The Avengers will owe me a rather huge favor for all of this.”

“So this is why it’s taken so long?”

“The illusion does not last if I am not in the dimension. It is currently 4AM in your universe- time is tricky, when crossing planes- and I will have to be back soon. However, I assumed it was time to let you know what is happening in our dimension.”

Home… Home is safe, for now. In a way. Ohnn is attacking them, but they aren’t dead, or dying, or injured. And no one is planning to take Peter away from Tony-

unless he wants you gone after this

-and Tony is looking for him. Tony is still looking for him. He still cares that Peter is safe and healthy.

“So… "

“So, until they can get their hands on Ohnn, or until you are able to get back to your universe, I am the go-between. I will come when I can to check on your ‘well being’-” Peter supposes the words are for- “-lest Stark have my head for not mentioning it, and also relaying information from our side. Now, tell me.”

Loki snaps his fingers, and makes a spinning motion. Peter stands there dumbly, and Loki does it again. This time, Peter spins, and Loki hums. “No injuries? No sickness? Be thorough, otherwise, the messenger will be shot.”

“No injuries right now.”

“Right now?”

Peter chews his bottom lip. It certainly does feel like Tony is here right now, drilling him about his health, and he thinks Loki must have gotten so much of an earful that Tony is inside his head right now.

“I got a… few, little injuries…?” Peter grimaces. “You don’t have to tell Tony that-”

“I will not hear the end of it unless I do, and I would rather protect my peace of mind than yours. No hard feelings, tell me now.”

Peter huffs with frustration. “The initial attack gave me some bruising, but it went away after a good meal-”

“Let us try again. I need more detail than that.”

Peter’s jaw drops. “What, like a medical report?”

Loki hums, tilting his head in consideration. “Yes. And all about your living situation, as well, no details left out. Potts was certain she would kill me if I did not pry that information out of you.”

He half wonders if he should be annoyed. But instead, it’s just the same feeling as usual. Peter feels warm, knowing that Tony was worried. Knowing that the others are worried about him, and waiting for him to come home.

So, he tells Loki.

He tells him as much as he can, maybe exaggerating the more fun details. He tells them more about Spider-Man, and the vigilantes that are helping him out. He does mention that the vigilantes have no idea Peter and Spider-Man are the same person, but he slides right over that detail fast enough that Loki doesn’t press him on it.

And when Loki leaves, Peter feels a weight lifted off of his chest. And he is left with a promise that the god would return at some point.

Peter returns to his room, and he doesn’t go back out as Spider-Man. He gets some actual rest, and he doesn’t dream about anyone.

-

Bruce drag a hand down his face. “Robin, are you sure?”

“I have no frivolous doubts, and I wouldn’t make this up.” Damian crosses his arms, his cape flipping with a gust of wind. They’re both standing over the scene of the crime, watching as first responders pack up the victims of this rage.

Two-Face had managed to get away. Again. They had tracked him here, to the Upper East End, after hearing talk about his movements through their informants. When they got to this bar, they found that twelve people had been shot, after Two-Face had gone into a rant- something to do with the mayor.

He’s angry about the prosecutors on the case, claiming that they had been given everything they needed to put away his murderer. But they had ultimately failed to find enough evidence, and the accused assassin, Deus Johnson, got off of all charges.

Bruce knows that is was Deus, they all do. It was just a matter of proving that to a court, and in the end, they had gotten the evidence they needed only after Deus had gotten off. And because it would lead to a double jeopardy if they tried, they were forced to back off. The prosecutors panicked at the public outcry- because for once, a mayor had been decent enough to be liked- and they rushed the case.

And now, Damian decides to bring up not Two-Face, but Spiderman.

Damian, as much as he distrusts Peter, has been stuck on Spiderman since the boy showed up on their radar. He isn’t to be trusted either, but Damian had been overcome with respect because, as Damian puts it, he’s never seen someone use so many methods of training in one fight so seamlessly.

It would have put a damper on Bruce’s pride, if he was a younger man.

Needless to say, Damian had been studying the video of Spiderman to assess his threat level, and in turn, had forced himself into Tim’s case on him. The two of them are now both looking for Spiderman together, and a year ago, this would have been a cause for concern. Now, it’s a relief that the two of them want to share or work together at all.

“Spiderman being an assassin only reinforces that we can not trust him.” Bruce reminds Damian, who pauses. “He could be with the Council of Spiders.”

“I was trained by assassins as well.” Damian’s voice is flat. Bruce hadn’t noticed the distance between them had grown during the conversation, but Damian had taken a step backward, then two. He pretends to focus down on the scene below. “I am merely suggesting that Spiderman has trained with one, or others. Not that he is an assassin.”

Bruce takes a deep breath. He misspoke just now, like he always does.

He hadn’t meant to imply…

There was a year that Bruce missed. He wasn’t there to help Damian grow into who he is now. Bruce had left a son that was still eager to spill blood and claim his spot as Robin. And when he got back, Damian and become a Robin trained under Dick as Batman, and Damian was regretful of how he had been introduced to his family.

It’s still a rocky relationship, despite the fact that Bruce has been back for a while now.

Because he came back to everyone in different places. Tim was his Robin, when he left. And now Tim was forced to spread his wings and find his own place to fly. When Bruce turns to his partner, sometimes, he still expects to see Tim. And he’ll be surprised to see Damian in Tim’s place.

It felt all too familiar of the period of time when he would turn to look for Jason, and see Tim. Only this time, Bruce had been the one to die.

All of this… it’s an adjustment that Bruce is trying to make. That he feels he falls short on, despite wanting to make it better. If he puts his foot in his mouth, if he fails to amend problems before they drive his kids away… He’ll never forgive himself.

“Robin, I trust you. Not just for your judgment, or training. But because you have a good heart.” Bruce closes the distance to put a hand on Damian’s shoulder. Damian tears his eyes away from the scene below, looking up at Bruce. He wishes that he could see underneath Damian’s mask at the moment, he wishes to understand what his kid is feeling. “I didn’t mean to imply that wasn’t the case.”

“You don’t trust Spiderman.”

“I haven’t been given a reason to.” Bruce says. “He’s a young child, but if what you saw was true, and I believe you’re right, then Spiderman could be an enemy. If he’s with the Council of Spiders and we trusted him blindly, that could cost us a lot. It could cost me you, or the others.”

Damian’s lips press into a line, and he takes an impatient breath. “I understand that. Do you think that Peter is involved in this as well, then?”

Bruce sighs, wanting to admit that he has a lot of theories about Peter. “It isn’t impossible. But we still have to look into that before we make any decisions. If Spiderman is with the Council, and they’re after Ohnn, then that could mean that Peter is in far more danger than we realized at first.”

“Tony and Ohnn are wrapped up in the Council together?”

“Or Ohnn is wrapped up in them, and when he went after Tony, it directed the Council their way. We’ll have to look into what the Council have been doing lately, see if anyone has been keeping tabs on them.”

“Red Robin could do it.” Damian suggests confidently. “He had mentioned looking into their files on the computer a few months ago and needing to update them. He might know more about that.”

Bruce’s chest feels warm, watching Damian as he presses his ear to his comms to talk to Tim. A year ago, this same kid would have refused to work with Tim, blatantly insulted or insinuated that Tim would not be helpful or have any information worthwhile. And now, he’s trusting Tim…

He sincerely wishes he had gotten to see this transformation. He wishes he knew more about the time that he was away, that he hadn’t had to play catch up all this time. But a huge part of Bruce knows that this wouldn’t have happened the way it did if he had been there. He often burns what he touches.

“Nightwing?” Damian’s brow furrows immediately. Bruce switches on his own comms as soon as he hears that Dick is on comms. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“I had something on my mind.”

“What is it?” Bruce feels a flicker of worry. Dick being as exhausted as he is, it must be important if it kept him up and made him leave the Manor.

There’s a beat of silence on Dick’s end, then a hum of amusem*nt. “It’s settled now. Are you yelling at me to go to sleep, or can I tag along on the Two-Face thing? I might as well, considering it’s only an hour until we should get back anyway.”

Bruce can already see Damian about to retort that they can do it themselves, as his shoulders bristle with worry for his brother that he covers with defiance. But Bruce beats him to it. “Two-Face is done here. We’re going to try and tail his movements from here, but I imagine he’s done for the night.”

“What’s he so mad about this time?” Nightwing asks. “Have we figured that out yet?”

“The assassination of the mayor. He’s upset the prosecutors rushed the case and Deus got away.”

“Ah, the good old ‘Justice and strange moral codes’ shtick again.”

-

It took Peter waking up on the second day to fully process Loki’s visit. Yesterday felt like walking in a dream, and he was convinced that he’d wake up at any second to find out that Loki had never visited at all. He spent the day indoors, pacing around his room or playing with Little Legs.

When he woke up this morning, he had finally understood it wasn’t a dream. And thus, Peter was struck with reality.

He’s satisfied for now about Tony, Pepper, and everyone else worrying about him.

Well, ‘satisfied’ isn’t the way he should put that, but whatever. What he worries about most is Ned.

Ned is his best friend, and not a day goes by where Peter doesn’t think about how much Ned would love this place. No, not love. He’d be terrified of Gotham. Peter means, like, an alternate reality.

Even this small room would be enough for Ned to talk about. He’d have started making a list by now of all of the differences between their worlds. He would have followed up on Eugene Thompson, saying, “Peter, this is our chance. If we take a picture of his dad doing something embarrassing in this universe, just imagine showing Flash and watching his face go white.”

Not to mention the vigilantes.

“Do you think Batman is secretly a meta? Why else would he choose a bat for his symbol, and did you read that the guy is able to sneak into the shadows? What if he has echolocation and that’s why he didn’t put it in his suit? And these Robins, dude! The bo-staff that they use to fight with? Nightwing’s costume is sick, you should use it as inspo for your next suit, because obviously Mr. Stark is gonna make you a new suit, like, any day now. And-”

Peter’s heart twists in his chest, missing his friend so dearly right now that it hurts. Ned is his best friend, and Peter thinks the world of him already. Learning that Ned was helping out with his disappearance meant a lot to Peter. But…

He’s literally playing house with an Illusion Peter right now. He has to wonder how difficult it is- like, emotionally and literally. What if the Illusion Peter doesn’t eat properly, or like, at all? Or what if it’s going around telling people that Peter is Spider-Man? Or… well, Ned would stop those, even if Loki’s illusion magic managed to not be perfect. He’s a god, after all.

What must be more difficult is hanging out with a puppet of his friend. Illusion Peter can’t offer moral support, can he?

What if Ned likes the fake one better?

Don’t be stupid, Peter argues. If there’s anyone in the world that Peter can be sure would miss Peter the way Peter misses him, it’s his best friend.

Ned is just… he’s one of the best people that Peter knows. He cares so deeply about everything, and he gets so passionate about the things he loves, that it’s hard not to notice when he cares about Peter, or his friends in general. Peter might have insecurities, but he can’t argue against cold, hard fact.

Because of his longing to talk to Ned, Peter attempts to think of anything that he could do to feel connected to him, somehow. When he misses Tony, he starts building stuff or working on the Jumping Radar. When he misses Pepper, he plays their word game of association. When he misses Happy, he pretends to bother someone.

Usually, when he misses Ned, he starts going through all of their favorite media together in his mind and thinks about what he could be missing, or just recounting the events. Star Wars, Doctor Who, One Punch Man, One Piece, Fairy Tail, Brooklynn Nine-Nine…

But today, it’s mostly just Ned’s favorite media that pop into Peter’s mind, and he tries to remember everything he can about them. Nightmare Before Christmas, Amulet series-

All That’s Left In the World

That thought is what brought Peter to stand in front of the Gotham City Public Library again, for the first time in over a week. He stands at the bottom of the steps, pretty much glaring at the doors as if they’ll tell him if it’s safe or not.

His spider-sense disagrees with his insecurities. There’s no danger to be detected here, nothing that screams he shouldn’t go in. By all means, Peter shouldn’t be worried. Not having an ID might make things difficult, but it isn’t like Barbara is going to get mad at him for it. Last time, she had been very eager to help Peter find a book or two.

Because she wanted you to stick around. His mind reminds him.

Probably for a good reason. He says back.

Yeah, last time he was here… it was pretty awkward. Barbara had been intent on trying to get Peter to stay, and he ran for it. He has no idea why, and that bothers him. He fully intended to never come back.

But… he knows this library. He doesn’t want to risk another.

And he really misses Ned, and right now all he can think about is reading something that Ned likes so he can feel like he knows Ned better. Or that Ned is right there with him. He had seen Ned reading this book plenty of times, it’s his favorite one ever. Peter had asked before what it was about, and Ned sort of skirted around it. Now’s his chance to actually sit down and read it, and he can talk to Ned about his favorite book, because he knows that Ned hadn’t talked about it with anyone else.

So, Peter sucks it up. If it becomes an issue, Peter will just run away. Again.

His stomach grows queasy and his hands are sweaty when he climbs the stairs and opens the door, a tiny voice in his head telling him to go back. Peter makes it be quiet by pretending to squish it to death with a conically large hammer.

He regrets that decision as soon as he looks inside. He’d wonder if it’s too late to revive the voice, but that thing is a like a damn co*ckroach. Unkillable.

Barbara is not in her office as usual, and is instead at the reception desk scanning books. Chatting away to her- or, really, pacing the room and talking at her a little too fast for Peter to make sense of- is the man that was here last time, Dick Gray-

Grayson.

Peter almost wacks himself in the head. That’s why he suddenly remembered his dad’s first last name, before he was adopted. It was Grayson- just like this guy. This is going to be extremely awkward if it gets brought up. More than it already was. Stupid!

He peeks to the right of the library, towards the young adult section. He could sneak past, maybe?

Wrong.

It would be hilarious that Peter can sneak around Gotham and hide in plain sight in front if Batman and his Robins, but he can’t hide at a damn library in broad light, if he wasn’t so annoyed at the predicament. It takes him all of two steps before he’s spotted. Barbara- who had mostly been ignoring Dick as he rambles about his brother getting on his case for going out late- spots him. His spider-sense disagrees with Peter that this is a bad thing.

we know her! know! hello!

“Peter!” Her eyes widen. Dick stumbles on his foot mid pace, blinking over his shoulder in surprise. “Hey, you’re back!”

“….Hi.” Peter ignores that his stomach has only gotten worse upon being spotted. He hopes it doesn’t show.

“I was worried that Dick scared you off.” Barbara mutters, and it’s low enough that Peter could ignore it, if he wanted to. He wants to. So he ignores it. “Are you here to check out a book? Need any help?”

“I-I am,” He notes that Barbara has a victorious gleam in her eyes. “B-but I’m okay. I can find it.”

His voice comes out softer than he wants it to, and he’s deliberately ignoring Dick as best he can. The guy is glancing at him while leaning on the reception desk and trying not to make it obvious, and Peter is suspicious that it could be the ‘might need CPS’ stare.

Sweating under their gaze, he hurries away before Barbara can insist on helping, ducking into the sci-fi YA section like it’s his home base. He decides that even better than looking at the front, where they could probably still see him, he’ll check the back first.

A sigh escapes him as he crouches down at the bottom shelf, totally not pouting that he got caught. Well, he wasn’t gonna steal the book. He was going to try and check out anyway. But he was hoping that he’d get to work his way up to seeing Barbara, and even then, he hadn’t expected Dick to be here too.

The book he’s looking for might not even be here. It’s an alternate universe, after all. That’s why he didn’t want to accept Barbara’s help, just yet. Because what if he asks for this book specifically, and she looks at him like he’s crazy? Then he really will never come back. Also, he’s feeling immensely guilty that he might leave this universe before he can return the book, and leave Barbara thinking he’s a jerk of a kid who steals books.

In an attempt to still his nerves, Peter cranes his ears to listen to Barbara and Dick talking to each other, hoping they aren’t whispering about calling CPS on him.

“-really think it was because of that?”

“It had to be. He’s reaching out, trying to make connections.”

It doesn’t sound like they’re talking about him. He lets out a breath of relief, and begins actually searching for the book he wants. He stumbles across a few books that look interesting, but he figures he’ll stick with the potential of the library losing one copy of a book, not multiples.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to find the one. All That’s Left In the World sits in Peter’s hands, sort of a short read, and looking the opposite of how Ned had kept his personal copy. The library’s copy is clean cut, and when Peter opens the cover it crinkles as if it’s never been opened before. Ned’s had a lot more personality to it, filled with sticky notes, annotations, the cover practically falling apart because he’s read it that many times. Their classmate, Liz, had once told Ned he’s a disgrace to book lovers because of how he treats the book, but Ned proclaims that it’s his personal copy, he’ll do what he wants.

Peter grins down at the copy in his hands, his chest feeling warm like it always does when he thinks of Ned. Hopefully, the book isn’t entirely different because it’s in an alternate universe, and he can finally talk to Ned about it.

Now… the hard part.

He peeks around the corner of the bookshelf. Dick and Barbara are still talking to each other, Dick leaning in the counter still and Barbara shuffling to grab something on her desk. His entire body shakes with anxiety, despite everything telling him it’s okay.

His spider-sense, his own mind- and even that voice in his head are silent. Maybe because it senses Peter is freaking out perfectly well on his own, without its assistance or because Peter beat it with the comically large thought hammer earlier. But it’s quiet, nonetheless. By all means, checking out a damn book shouldn’t be hard at all. He’s done it a bajillion times.

He gulps and looks back down at the book, this time at the excerpts on the back. A single quote stares back at him in particular.

“‘We’re going to be okay,’ I repeated to him.

If things get hard again, I’ll carry him. And he’ll carry me. And we’ll be okay.”

Right. This is about Ned, and that is worth the risk. Ned is always worth the risk.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he walks over to the checkout. His face feels a little numb. But he’s doing it. So, points to him. Dick grins over his shoulder, but is checking his phone when Peter gets there, and Barbara grins up at him with a bright, I-Didn’t-Call-CPS-On-You look.

“This all you getting, Pete?”

“Yeah,” Peter taps the desk as Barbara takes the book. “I-I don’t have a card…”

“Let’s get you one, then.” She doesn’t mention an ID- in fact, the sign that said he needed one to get a card is gone now- and instead starts asking him questions. “Full name?”

“P-Peter Grayson.” He cringes because he can’t change it now, and he tries not to glance at Dick. His attention is pulled towards the older man anyway.

“Hey, name buddies.” Dick smiles at him, setting his phone down.

Peter doesn’t reply.

“Date of birth?”

“8/10” Peter mutters, ignoring Dick’s smile growing awkward from the corner of his eye. He just waits for the inevitable blow asking for his mailing address, an email, postal code (he has no idea), or-

“Okie dokie,” Barbara reaches for a drawer. Peter blinks at her. “Hey, this time, I have something other than peppermint. How do you feel about M&M’s?”

That’s it?

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth!

“They’re good.” He feels like something just happened here, but he doesn’t want to say anything about it. Technically, his last card in his home universe had been from when he still lived with Ben, and no one ever thought to check it out. He always returned books on time.

Dick slides over the bowl of packaged M&M’s, and Peter takes one out. Barbara is checking the book out with no problem, but he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s going deceptively well, and that never happens.

“Is this a book for school?” Dick asks.

Peter shakes his head.

“Ah, cool.” Dick winces, clearing his throat. “Just for fun, then?”

Peter decides to put him out of his misery.

“My friend likes it.” He replies, and Dick’s shoulders release some tension. Why is he nervous? “I’m reading it to surprise him.”

“That’s sweet of you.” Barbara hands him the book, and Peter almost takes it and runs. “I think my friend read this one too, she said it was great.”

“Y-Yeah. My friend’s copy looks like a personal journal, so I think it’s good. He has good taste.” Peter wants to shoot himself in the mouth, because why does regular conversation feel so weird? He should leave-

…?

Peter turns his head to the door just in time to see the coolest dude ever walk in.

He’s about as tall as Dick with messy black hair, a white streak at his forehead. He has a few piercings in his ears and a silver necklace with a scythe design. He has heavy black boots, black motorcycle gloves on his hands and a red motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm. He’s wearing a black graphic sweatshirt with a school Peter doesn’t know the name of on the chest and wrapped around one arm, and he has dark green cargo pants on that has a chain on the beltloops.

Cool…

cool!

“Hey, Blue, why the hell are you ignoring my texts? I finally get around to texting you first and you decide ‘nah, I think I’ll make him f*cking wait.’ What’s up with that?” The guy complains. It’s when he’s tucking his phone away into his pants pocket that he sees Peter and slows down. “Oh. Hey.”

Peter grins awkwardly, waving back. He senses movement behind him and glances back at Dick, who clumsily leans back against the counter and presses his lips together in a tense smile at Peter.

Okay…

“Geez, a little warning there’s a kid around would have been nice. Sorry for my language.” The new guy sets his helmet on the counter, and Peter’s eyes follow it. He’s always wanted a motorcycle, but the dream was crushed when Tony said he’d destroy it if Peter got one. Something about them not being safe at all.

“I’m a teenager, not a kid.” Peter mutters, wondering why it bothered him more than usual. Maybe ‘cause the guy is cool.

Cool Guy smirks, holding out his hand. “Alright, Teenager. Name’s Jason.”

“Peter.” He shakes Jason’s hand, making sure the grip isn’t wimpy. “I like your helmet.”

Indeed, now that he’s closer, Peter can see the design on it much better. It’s subtle, only noticeable if you’re close, but there’s a thorn design wrapping around it that shines red-ish in the light. Jason’s smirk grows wider.

“Thanks, kid. I have another one outside with a skull. I usually make Dick wear the one I made for our sisters, though. It’s the only one that fits his head.”

“What? My head isn’t small.”

Peter chuckles, clutching the book in hand and wondering if now is the time to leave. But Jason keeps talking, and he doesn’t want to go without saying goodbye to Barbara, at least.

“You,” Jason points at Dick. “-have been ignoring my texts.”

“I wasn’t ignoring them. I was taking my time to reply.”

“Hey, kid.” Jason pats Peter’s shoulder. “Do you know how many hours of sleep someone is supposed to get?”

“7 to 9 hours a night for adults, 10 for teenagers.” Peter replies automatically.

“7 to 9 hours.” Jason repeats, pointing at Dick. “And you got- wait, 10 hours?”

He turns back to Peter to explain. It takes a second for peter to realize that’s what he wanted.

“Kids 6 through 12 years should sleep on average 9 to 12 hours, and teenagers aged 13 to 18 should sleep 8 to 10 hours, but it’s highly recommended for 10. But school opens up earlier for teenagers, and adding extracurricular activities and homework means that average teenager gets 6 to 7 hours instead.”

“Well, sh*t, I didn’t know that.” Jason’s brow furrows, turning back to Dick. “Is Tim getting that much sleep?”

“Definitely not. He power naps any and everywhere, but that doesn’t mean he’s sleeping enough.” Dick grows concerned. “Should we tell Bruce or Alfred? Don’t they know?”

“He might kill us if we do that.” Jason says this as if it’s a serious threat, not just a metaphor. “Also, why the f*ck would I tell Bruce anything?”

Wait.

Tim? Bruce?

Peter glances between the two of them as they talk, the names dancing around his head. It isn’t until he hears: “Steph might be the only one who can right now, ‘cause Tim is terrified of her.” that it clicks in his head.

Tim and Stephanie- Tim is Jason and Dick’s brother. The one he met at the school and at the hardware store. Coupon himself. Stephanie mentioned a rich dad for Duke and Tim, a man now called Bruce. Bruce. As in, the only rich person he’s heard of named Bruce in this town, so far, is Bruce Wayne.

The billionaire.

And unless there are other rich Bruces in Gotham, Peter is going to say that this is Bruce Wayne that they’re talking about. Nightwing mentioned that Bruce Wayne has a son with the last name Grayson.

As in. Dick Grayson.

He looks at Barbara, who is looking at him. Neither of the brothers have noticed. But Barbara- her face screams that she knows what he’s thinking. That she must be able to read minds, or something of that nature, because she knows Peter just made a connection to something.

“Um, thanks, Miss Barbara.” Peter says, swiftly pocketing the M&M’s into his pocket. “But I gotta get back to work now.”

“W-Wait, Pete, do you want any more M&M’s? You know no one ever really comes by, and you can take as many as you want-”

“I’m good. Bye!”

Peter is out that door in seconds, leaving behind two bewildered adults and one who might think he’s caught on.

Because- well. Peter thought Tim is Red Robin. That Stephanie is Spoiler. That Duke is Signal. And if he’s right, Peter isn’t just being stalked by Red Robin out of costume.

His gut twists with anxiety, clutching the book in his hands and feeling like the world is both falling into place and falling apart. If he’s right, then Dick Grayson is Nightwing. And Jason is Red Hood.

And they know. They knew the whole time.

And obviously, Peter shouldn’t be mad about that. He isn’t mad about it. He of all people can’t be mad about secret identities. That’s the name of the game, unless you don’t get a choice.

It’s just that… Peter put his trust into Nightwing, thinking that he’d never see the man’s face. But he did.

They were getting far closer than Peter realized. The world feels like it’s about to give out from under him.