kismet

Peter had managed to do a lot in his short twenty-two years of life, if he did say so himself. He’d lived, lost, loved, and saved a lot of people in between. He’d known Death quite well throughout those years. Intimately, if you will.  

His first impression of Death was that it was sad. His first pet, a little tuxedo cat they’d called Mustache, had died of old age. Little Peter cried and cried until he couldn’t cry anymore.  

The next time Peter met Death, he’d concluded that death was lonely. He was only four years old, and his Aunt and Uncle had to tell him that his parents were gone and that they weren’t coming back. God, he was so lonely that he ached. The hole in his heart where his parents had resided never really filled but slowly, painstakingly, he recovered year by year until he barely felt the laceration.  

His next encounter with Death had him spitting with rage, it was cruel. It was only cruelty that would take his Uncle Ben from him, and he would never forgive the person that had done it. He would never forgive himself. Death was cold and cruel and relentless.  

Over the next few years, he’d had quite a few brushes with death, and he found it hard to put one single name or emotion to the phenomenon that was Death. It was adrenaline and fear and something else he couldn’t name.  

Then Titan happened, and Peter had actually died and God it had hurt. And as he stared into his mentors' fearful brown eyes, Peter could only think, Death was nothing but pain. 

Waking up after being dead for five years was a whole trip in itself. Waking up after being dead for five years to the immediate death of your mentor, your father figure, was unbearable. Watching as Pepper and their daughter cried at the funeral, he knew that Death was unforgivable, a force that took and took without caring who it took and who was left behind.

When Aunt May died, Peter went numb. What could he say? There was no pretty way to describe Death, something so terrible that you couldn’t put a single word to it. He thought he might never recover from that loss; thought he might just die right alongside her. But he was harshly reminded that it wasn’t what his aunt would have wanted for him. She wanted him to live, to thrive.

So, he fought, he fought, and he lived. He faced death and he said not yet. He knew death was inevitable, but until the day it came for him, he would fight with all he had. Claws out and teeth bared, he would fight for those he lost along the way.

Even when everyone in the world forgot who he was, and he had no one to turn to. But things had changed since then, Peter had changed. He had people now. Matt, Wade, Foggy, Karen, Jessica, Luke, Danny, Johnny, Gwen, Miles, Felicia, Kate, Clint and Harry. He had so many people supporting him, caring for him, so many people to live for. Even if none of them really knew him, knew what his life had been like, knew that some of them knew him before. They were his friends and his family, even if he’d never said it to their faces. And god, does he regret that right about now. He can’t die without telling them he cares for them. 

So, as he fell from the top of Fisk Enterprises at speeds he didn’t want to think about with his AI in his ear informing him that he was out of web fluid, well, he couldn’t say he’d never faced death before. No, he’d known death his whole life. 

As he fell, he was sad and lonely and scared and millions of other emotions. When he began to get lightheaded from the fall, he finally understood the phrase life flashing in front of his eyes because memory after memory filled his line of sight.  

His parents, Aunt May and Uncle Ben. His parents.Ned and MJ. Tony. Pepper and Morgan. Clint, Natasha, Sam, and Bucky. Stephen and Wanda. America. Matt and Wade. Danny. Luke, Johnny, Jessica. Kate. Felicia. Harry. Gwen. Miles. Thousands of moments, memories, echoed through his mind and he felt… unprepared. He had so many things he still wanted to do, people he wanted to meet, places he wanted to see.  

He ached to live. He’d been solely surviving for years and thought that he was honoring his aunt by doing that. But he swore to himself that if he somehow miraculously survived this he would live for real. 

Hell, he was still in college, not even graduated yet. He’d barely had a real job or relationship, so caught up in Spider-Man. He felt ashamed, this isn’t what his aunt would have wanted for him. He wonders if she would be proud of him, now. He wonders what his friends will think when they see the inevitable news. “Spider-Man Dead! Identity Revealed to be Unremarkable Twenty-Two-Year-Old College Student and Photographer, Peter Parker!” What utter shit.  

For the first time in his life, Peter prayed. Prayed to all the gods he didn’t believe in and hoped to all that was holy that it worked. For once, let his Parker luck work in the opposite way. He implored the fates to give him a chance, any chance. Just let him live. He wasn’t ready to die yet. He thought he would, had known he would die painfully young, but he had hoped he would live a bit longer, be a bit older.  

Please, he prayed, please let me live.  

And just as his back hit the pavement unforgivingly and the world went black and all he felt was pain pain pain a smooth feminine voice or a thousand voices echoed through his head, asking one question. 

“What will you give to change your fate?” 

Anything, Peter thought back dazedly.  

He would come to regret that.  

He was dead, surely. He had been falling from a building, and he remembered hitting the ground and the pain. God, the pain. And then he heard a voice? He was floating in a sea of numbness, and he sighed- or did he? Was he breathing? Could he still breathe? Could you breathe if you were dead?  

“Yes child, you can still breathe.” A voice said from in front of him, sounding amused.  

In his shock at hearing another voice his eyes snapped open, and he realized that he was standing up in a beautiful garden, he took in a deep breath as he took in the woman standing in front of him.  

“Who are you? What am I doing here?” He questioned, blurting out the words. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting after death, but it wasn’t this glowing gold lady.  

She sent him a soft smile. “I am who you mortals call Fate. You are here because you called to me.”  

“I- “Peter gaped at the- entity? She said he’d called her, he didn’t understand.  

“You wished to live. To alter your own Fate.” The being continued sagely, looking unperturbed at his goggling. “Normally, I wouldn’t allow this. But you… you Peter are special.”  

“What?!” Peter said, confounded. “I’m- I’m just Peter.”  

Fate smiled softly, indulgently. “Quite so.”  

Peter shook his head, completely stupefied by what was happening. He still wasn’t sure this wasn’t all just some kind of coma dream.  

“I am offering you a chance.” She said, sitting down on a bench that Peter could swear hadn’t been there a second prior and patting the spot beside her.  

Peter hesitated briefly before sitting down. “What do you mean?” He questioned nervously. “Aren’t I dead?”  

“You are dead.” Fate nodded. “But I will give you a choice. You can… move on as you say. Or I can send you somewhere else. Somewhere where you will survive… live. It will not be easy. You will never be able to go home, not if you want to avoid drastic consequences.” 

“I want to live.” Peter asserted, not even thinking before responding. He had made a promise to May, even if she hadn’t been alive to hear it. He would not miss out on this opportunity. “Do it. Send me wherever.”  

“You will face hardships, Peter Benjamin, but you will not be alone for long.” Fate warned him. “It is not easy for anyone to bring someone back from death, even for beings such as I.”  

“I understand.” Peter said even though he was sure that he probably didn’t understand.  

“You don’t, but you might soon enough.” Fate said, pressing a finger to his forehead and everything went black.  

Waking up drowning in an acrid tasting green goo was not an experience Peter was planning on repeating any time in the future. Waking up drowning in the gross gooey substance and realizing he was in a whole other universe was well… soul crushing and elating in equal measure. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that when Fate had said ‘somewhere else’ she’d meant much farther from home than he’d originally thought.

When he’d first woken, he’d thought he was still dreaming, until he realized he was choking and had punched his way out of the life-sized test tube he’d woken up in. He was alive, alive and in a cave in the middle of nowhere. He was extremely thankful for his super hearing when he was able to detect a city a few miles from where he was. 

Once he’d clawed his way out of the cave, he took in the woods around him and shook his head incredulously. He quickly patted himself down, taking in his meager belongings. He was in a basic pair of jeans and a T-shirt with a science pin on it, paired with some converse. Though he noticed most of his clothing was stained with either dirt or blood. Perhaps both. Not to mention covered in goo. His suit had shrunk down and sat on his wrist innocuously, like an expensive looking watch, but it wouldn’t respond to him at all, staying in the same form. His phone was in his back pocket, his old Stark Phone that Tony had given him all those years ago. Before…his fall… it was in perfect condition thanks to constantly upgrading it himself with scraps from the dumpster, but as he held the power button, the phone stayed dead.

He sighed and resolved to find a charger and computer as soon as possible. He also had his wallet, which he had been thankful for before remembering once more that he was in a whole different fucking universe! Hopefully the currency was the same, though he only had about two hundred dollars to his name. Enough to get him started at least.  

He’d winced in pain, grunting as he made his way through the trees. He was injured, maybe a few broken ribs but he could already feel them lol healing. He knew he probably shouldn’t move but he wasn’t staying anywhere near that creepy fucking cave, or that vile green substance. The scientist part of him wanted to take a sample and study it but the spider part was screaming for him to get the hell out. run. go go go. He very promptly decided to listen to his arachnid instincts as they hadn’t led him wrong very often. The same could not be said for the scientist part.  

Either way, Peter was getting the hell out of whatever that place was and wasn’t sticking around to figure out why he was there in the first place. There were no other heartbeats in the area and nothing blocking the exit, so Peter tried not to worry. 

It was midday from what he could tell and for that Peter was glad, even if it was raining and clouds filled the sky. At least he didn’t have to stumble through the woods at night.  

Once he made it into the city after walking for at least two hours, he took in the sighs welcoming him to Gotham, New Jersey and blanched. Gotham? He was in New Jersey? What the hell was Gotham? He looked toward the looming city in front of him, filled with old gothic looking buildings and sighed. What the hell had he gotten himself into now? 

The city… it smelled unlike any place Peter had ever been before and he’d been to literal space. Like sulfur. It was only when he read the signs that he realized he was more lost than he’d initially thought. He’d never heard of Gotham in his life and a city as large as the one he’d found himself in, yeah, he would’ve heard of it. Gotham was easily as big as New York and just as packed with people. 

He really hadn’t thought it through when the glowing Fate lady told him she would send him ‘somewhere else’. In hindsight he probably should have asked more questions. So yeah, it hadn’t taken him very long to figure out that he was in a different universe, on a different earth. A toxic green haze obscured his vision when he thought about it too much and he had to blink away at the approaching headache that came with it.  

God, what was he going to do now?  

You can survive without food for three weeks, without water for three days, but you can only last three hours without shelter. He remembered the way Natasha had drilled the words into his brain, until he could recite it back to her without pause and in highly stressful situations. Okay so first things first, somewhere to sleep. He’d passed a firehouse a few streets back that had looked abandoned and hadn’t set off his senses in any way. The first rule of being lost in a city he didn’t know: trust the spidey sense. 

As he passed, he noticed these people smelled of blood, chemicals, and gunpowder. Distressingly, more often than not they upset his senses. Their heartbeats raced and they talked in whispers. He could hear shouting and tires squealing and gunshots but ignored it for now. He felt on edge, robotically navigating the streets, mentally begging that a library to come into view. He had planned to ask someone but he hadn’t passed anyone that didn’t set off his senses so far, so he held off.  

That was until he passed a dingy looking bar, a woman with brightly colored hair was hanging out of a window on the second floor, a cigarette burning in her hand.  

“Uh, excuse me, miss?” Peter called up to her nervously. She didn’t set off his senses in a danger way but when she looked at him his skin still prickled.  

“You talking to me, love?” She called back in a thick Brooklyn accent. 

“Yes, uh, ma’am. Could you point me in the direction of the nearest library?” Peter said, giving a tentative smile as the woman looked him up and down, practically cooing at him.  

“Aw, okay cutie, just go up there, make two lefts, three rights, a left, two rights, and then another left and there’s this big building, says Gotham Public Library.” The woman rambles, pointing off to the left.  

Peter pasted on a grin and thanked the woman, quickly taking off in the direction that she’d indicated, muttering the directions under his breath as he walked.  

He grimaced as he caught sight of a newspaper, his enhanced eyes taking in the words from a distance.  

Gotham Gazette 

July 29, 2016 

Bruce Wayne Funds New Shelter in Crime Alley  

Batman V. Penguin Showdown 

Wait, 2016? Crime Alley? Batman? Penguin? What the fuck? Seriously, where the hell was he?  

Breathing a sigh of relief when the library came into view, he jogged forward entering the building and making a beeline for the computers. 

It was a surprise to him when he entered and noticed that the building was practically deserted save for a redhead wearing big glasses, she was sitting at the front counter tapping away at the computer in front of her. The librarian.  

She looked up as he passed her desk and did an actual double take before pasting on a very obviously forced smile. “Are you lost?” she asked kindly, pretending as though nothing was amiss. He knew he probably looked rough, but did it really warrant that reaction? Half the people in this city that he’d seen looked worse than him.  

 “Yes- no- sorry…” Peter cut himself off before he embarrassed himself. “I am a bit lost actually, just need to use one of your computers.” He gave an awkward laugh and then paused, eyeing the woman closely as she had begun to put his teeth on edge with how she was watching him. Did he have something on his face? Or was it the clothes, probably the clothes. That would be his next stop, a new set of clothes. He was sure he’d seen a battered down thrift shop as he’d passed that looked promising. Then he would worry about food and water. Deciding he should probably find out how bad he looked he quickly added, “And a bathroom, if you don’t mind Miss…”  

“Oh, I’m Barbara but you can call me Babs. Yeah, the bathroom is all the way in the back to the left.” The redheaded woman, Barbara said with a smile.  

“Thank you, Miss Barbara.” Peter said gratefully, rushing off to the bathroom without another word.  

Closing the door behind him he turned to face the mirror. Seeing his own reflection was akin to getting ice cold water poured over his head. He felt numb and cold as he took in his slightly altered features. He looked mostly the same, except he had a white blonde streak running through his normally soft brown curls, though it was throughly darkened by mud and whatever other substances Peter was covered in. And well, his eyes, they were the same acidic green color as the foul substance he had woken up under. His clothes were even more tattered than he’d thought, and he had to admit that he did look pretty rough. With a black eye and a healing bruise around his throat, he looked at the picture of someone in trouble. No wonder the librarian had stared at him so strangely.  

He huffed and shook his head at himself, he needed to get his shit together.  

He needed to stay sharp if he was going to survive in this new and dangerous world, and God dammit he was going to survive. No, he was going to live. 

After quickly cleaning himself off and making sure he looked at least halfway presentable, he made his way back out into the library and sitting down at the computers. He ignored the feel of a pair of eyes drilling into his back. She was probably just concerned about him. He braced himself as he typed in his first search.  

Tony Stark 

No Results. 

He blanched, hissing under his breath. There was no way.  

The Avengers 

No Results.  

Spider-Man 

No Results.  

Invasion of New York 

No Results.  

Thanos 

No Results.  

Okay. Peter might have been panicking a little now. His breathing had picked up and his hands were clenched into fists atop the table. Okay, calm down Peter. It’s okay. You knew you were in a different universe, of course things would be different.  

He decided to switch it up. His next search was the city’s name itself. Gotham.  

He paled as he read more and more disturbing articles about the city, he had ended up in. Crime rates through the roof, A villian for every theme you could possibly think of, who seemed to constantly break out of prison and cause mass panic. Not to mention the literal hoard of bat themed vigilantes, and Peter had to give them props for taking this mess on. This place was deeply broken in a way that sent shivers down his spine.  

He felt a bit dubious of the idea of going out as Spider-Man after all that he’d learned. Especially when he’d read about Batman’s stringent no meta rule. Not to mention the fact that Gothamites, as they were called, were naturally hostile towards outsiders.  

He noticed quite a few mentions of Bruce Wayne, who after some research, Peter concluded to be the Tony Stark of this universe. He wasn’t, of course, actually Tony Stark, but… well, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist with a massive tech company. Like, come on! Though this guy seemed to have a rather concerning adoption addiction, from what Peter could tell from the tabloids. 

Peter had to stifle a groan at how easy it was to figure out the identities of Gotham’s sworn protectors. It was laughable. Like, seriously, each time someone’s added to the Wayne family, a mysterious new vigilante pops up in the city.  

It had to be a joke, right? There’s no way more people didn’t know their identities. Whatever. Didn’t matter, it wasn’t like Peter was going to be telling anybody. He knew quite well the struggle of hiding one half of yourself from the world, and he wasn’t going to make anyone’s life any harder.  

Not to mention the fact that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere near the Bats or the Waynes. No, he was riding on staying very far under their radar. It paid to be invisible. He just hoped he could manage it.  

Waving goodbye to Barbara, he weaved off into the street, making his way towards the old fire station. Taking in the acrid smells of the city and the sky cloudy with air pollution, he straightened his spine and let out a breath.  

Gotham City, get ready to meet Peter Parker.  

The next few days passed in a blur for Peter. He had returned to the library almost every day to use the computer and had finally finished creating a fake identity for himself after verifying that he didn’t already have a counterpart in this universe. He didn’t.  

He’d kept it as close to the truth as possible, even going as far to create identities for his parents, his aunt and uncle, and Tony. He’d fudged some school records that were close enough to his actual records and enrolled himself into Gotham University under a scholarship.  

He’d backdated social media accounts, uploading what little pictures he could glean from Karen’s servers without repairing her completely. Forged work records for all of them; schooling, hospitals, jobs, the works. Rewritten the articles depicting his parent’s deaths, as well as those of his aunt and uncle. And Tony. 

He’d even created documents, patents, uploaded articles verifying that Tony Stark had been a genius engineer in New York who’d had an up and coming tech company. As a family friend of his aunts, Peter had had an internship with the man for a short two years before he died in a fire. Eh, close enough.

Peter had even forged documents for the sad amount of odd jobs he’d worked over the years since his aunts death. Not to mention the massive amount of volunteering at F.E.A.S.T. with his aunt. 

It was all there. His whole life as far as he could remember. Morbidly displayed across the library computer screen.

The tech in this place was seriously outdated compared to what he was used to. Which, in hindsight, made sense given that their timelines ran differently, and he was twelve years in the past. Plus, Peter had had access to tech that no living person other than Tony Stark had seen, thanks to the man himself. But anyway he was pretty sure that even in 2016, his world’s tech was significantly more advanced.  

Either way, the point was, it was laughably easy to create real looking identities and records, death certificates included. His chest ached at the realization that he couldn’t even visit their graves anymore.  

He’d gone to the DMV to report that he’d lost his ID and easily got a replacement. No other documents necessary. After that, it’d been pretty simple to open a bank account. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that he landed in this city.  

He tried not to think of home, of the people he had left behind. The people who probably thought Peter was dead, killed falling off of Fisk Tower. Every time he dared to remember his home; a sickly green haze obscured his vision, and a fiery lick of rage went up his spine. He itched to make someone hurt for his pain and he decidedly did not like that feeling. So, avoidance it was. 

The firehouse was… well, a firehouse but he’d slowly been making it his own. Sparingly using the cash, he had on him to buy food, bottled water, and other essentials such as clothes and blankets. Sleeping on the floor wasn’t his favorite thing in the world but it wasn’t the first time he’d been homeless, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Not if he didn’t find a job, and fast.  

Luck seemed to be on Peter’s side though because just as he was weaving through the streets, a familiar voice caught his ears. The lady who had given him directions to the library, whose name he’d come to learn was Dr. Harleen Quinzel, ex Gotham Rogue and current safe haven bar owner. The small blonde woman oversaw the only neutral ground in all of Gotham and seemed to take that duty very seriously. Which was why when he heard her voice combined with the sounds of fighting, he raced towards it instead of passing by and ignoring as he’d taken to doing lately.  

Three thugs in clown makeup had bats and were making a concentrated effort to hit Dr. Harley with them. The woman seemed to be holding her own quite well, cackling as she taunted the goons with her own bat swinging.  

Peter jumped into the fray without a world, quickly subduing the goons without showing off some of his extra skills. He huffed as he surveyed the three large men now unconscious on the ground. He was startled from his thoughts when a cold body was thrown at him, and he found himself wrapped in a hug by Dr. Harley.  

“Dr. Harley! Are you okay?!” Peter asked softly, wrapping the woman in his arms closely.  

“Aww. Don’t worry about me Petey Pie, I can hold my own.” She squealed back, releasing him from her death grip. “Mista J can’t have me back, no matter how badly he wants me. I’d rather die.”  

Peter laughed a bit nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “I know you can Dr. Harley but I couldn’t just leave you to take them on by yourself.” He pointedly ignored the last part of her sentence.  

Harley let out a coo. Looking at him up and down, before looking at the goons, she spoke curiously. “You are so sweet, Petey. Ya got a job?”  

“Uhh? No?” Peter hummed, confused by where she was going with this.  

Harley lit up. “Well, I need a new bartender, and ya can obviously protect yaself, so?”  

“So?” Peter echoed unsurely.  

“So! Wanna come to work at my bar? I’ll pay ya real good!” Harley was bouncing on her feet in excitement as she waited for an answer with bated breath.  

“Yes!” Peter shouted, rightfully desperate for the opportunity. “I mean, yeah, that would be great.” He repeated a bit calmer. 

“Knew ya would say yes!” Harley grinned a bit too wide smile and pumped her fist in the air. “Come to the bar tomorrow at seven and we’ll get you all set up.”  

“Got it, Dr. Harley. Thank you so much.” Peter sputtered.  

Maybe Parker Luck had turned around.  

Parker Luck had not turned around. Not at all. Peter couldn’t help the thought as he was pushed roughly into the side of a building. The guy holding the loaded gun sneering down into his face, breath rancid.  

He had been on his way home after his first shift at Harley’s which went really well if Peter did say so himself when a man had shoved him roughly into an alley, pointing a gun in his face.  

“Give me everything you got, punk.” He spat.  

“What is this? Do you want my lunch money or something? Because I’m sorry to tell you buddy but this ain’t highschool. I know that might be a difficult concept for you but- “He was cut off by a pistol whipping into his forehead.  

“Shut it, brat!” The man yelled. “Give me all your money.”  

“Woah! Woah! Jeez. Calm down, buddy.” Peter replied dazedly, attempting to wave his hands futilely.  

“Hey!” A peppy voice shouted from above them before a body dropped next to them. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Nightwing called out. The man holding Peter stumbled back in a startled, fearful manner and the vigilante moved forward, shoving the man back and knocking him to the ground in one smooth movement, the sticks in his hand crackling with electricity. 

He then looked up at Peter with eerily blank lenses. “You okay, kid?” It seemed like the man was inspecting him, focusing on his face and hair with frown. 

“Not a kid.” Peter coughed, shaking out his limbs. Nerves raced through him as he looked up at the guy.  

“Really?” Nightwing replied dubiously, lips twitching. “How old are you, not a kid?”  

“Twenty-two.” Peter answered, rolling his eyes and wincing at the pain in his head.  

“Oh!” Nightwing twitched. “Really not a kid, then. Sorry dude.”  

“It’s cool, man.” Peter waved the vigilante off. “Baby face, I get that a lot.”  

“Damn.” Nightwing said awkwardly, scuffing his foot against the pavement as he swung a pair of escrima sticks between his hands.  

“Thanks for the help.” Peter said, smiling slightly at the man. “I’m just gonna… go.” He pointed a thumb to the other end of the alley, quickly racing away before the man could respond.  

“Wait!” The man called out and nope. Nope nope nope. He was out of there and out of sight faster than the man could reach the other end of the alley and peek out.  

Boy Wonder: Just stopped a mugging. Victim was male, 22, green eyes, and brown hair with a white stripe in it.  

The All-Seeing Eye: Peter Parker. He comes by the library pretty often.  

Boy Wonder: Why didn’t you say anything?  

The All-Seeing Eye: I’ve been keeping an eye on him.  

Boy Wonder: Hm.  

The All-Seeing Eye: Don’t Batman me! 

The All-Seeing Eye: Ugh, dick.  

Over the weeks after the incident with the mugger, Peter noticed the rest of the Bats started showing up when he was least expecting them. Most didn’t make themselves known, staying in the shadows and forcing Peter to pretend he didn’t know they were stalking him. 

He wracked his brain for what he could have done during the two-minute interaction with Nightwing to catch the vigilante’s attention but couldn’t figure it out. Sure, he had run away but surely that wasn’t the first time that had happened to him. It sure as hell happened to Peter often enough.  

It seemed that regardless of how much Peter would prefer to avoid the Bats, he wasn't even going to get the chance to. First it was Nightwing and then Red Hood had joined his older brother in monitoring Peter. Then Red Robin, Spolier, and Signal, shadowing him as he walked home from work. He’d always managed to lose them before he could lead them to his home base, thankfully. He had encountered Black Bat exactly once, meeting the girl's covered eyes while she hid in the shadows, and never again. The only one who hadn't joined in the stalking was the big Bat himself and it made Peter wonder if the man knew about him at all. 

Work had been met with multiple visits from the Wayne family, idly interrogating Peter under the guise of getting to know the new bartender from out of town. Besides that, the job had been going rather well. And the tips were nothing to complain about either.  

He’d finally been able to leave the firehouse and get his own apartment, albeit a shitty one bedroom in Crime Alley but it was his. New clothes, shoes, furniture. Enough food to actually keep him fed. Yeah, Peter liked this job.

He had managed to gain the respect of most of the bar's attendees within a few days after someone three times the size of Peter pulled out a gun and Peter had him kicked out within twenty seconds time. The whole bar had clapped for him while Harley squeezed him into a too tight hug. He had immediatly begun blushing profusely and had quickly gotten back to serving drinks, unknowing of the fact that he had just made the Bats ten times more curious about the mysterious metahuman that had been through the Lazarus Pits. Not that he knew what either of those things were.  

Harley had also introduced Peter to her girlfriend, another ex-rogue doctor named Pamala Isley. He had found that he had a bit of a strange relationship with her plants, being able to understand and communiacate with them in a way only Dr. Isley had been able to do before. This, of course, had immediately endeared him to the woman. The couple had since proclaimed themselves Peter’s honorary aunts.

The sentiment didn't hurt as much as he thought it would.