Eggs and Games
Going to the Justice League station felt like stepping into a dream. Peter’s eyes lit up as he watched the teleporter whirl to life, its energy dancing in mesmerizing patterns. He couldn’t help but try to unravel its mystery, his mind racing to picture the intricate mechanics hidden behind the sleek metal casing. Though he couldn’t see its inner workings, his imagination ran wild with possibilities.
“01: Batman. Z-12: Spider-Boy.” The teleporter’s voice echoed as they materialized inside the Watchtower. A nearby hero turned at the unfamiliar designation, their eyes landing on Peter.
“That’s… a child,” Flash blurted, speeding over to them in an instant. He crouched in front of Peter, his expression equal parts curiosity and concern. “Like, an actual small child. Why is there a small child? Did Batman—” Flash’s voice dropped conspiratorially “—kidnap you? Blink twice if you need help.”
Peter froze, wide-eyed, and instinctively clutched at the edge of Bruce’s cape, hiding behind it like a lifeline.
“Please shut up, Flash,” Bruce growled, his tone sharp enough to make even the Speedster wince.
Flash stood, hands raised in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, sorry! But… new Robin? Isn’t he a little… young?”
“He’s not Robin,” Bruce said firmly, stepping closer. His voice dropped into that unmistakable Batman growl. “And no one is supposed to know about him. I’ve already disabled the cameras. Now I just need to take care of one loose end.”
Flash took a nervous step back, clearly understanding the unspoken threat. “Got it! Nope, no loose ends here! My lips are sealed.” He gave an awkward salute, then vanished into the teleporter, leaving a gust of wind in his wake.
Peter peeked out from behind Bruce’s cape. “Am I… a secret?”
Bruce looked down at him, his expression softening slightly. “No. But I don’t want him blabbing to everyone about you.”
“So… I am a secret?” Peter tilted his head, frowning as he tried to piece it together.
Bruce hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Yes. But only until you’re older.”
“Cool…” Peter said with a small nod, the word rolling off his tongue like he’d practiced it a hundred times.
Bruce raised an eyebrow, his tone dry but faintly amused. “Did Jason teach you that?”
“Yes.” Peter’s response was immediate and matter-of-fact, as if Jason’s influence was an indisputable fact of life.
“Well, you’re getting the hang of slang,” Bruce said, a hint of dry humour slipping through his usual stoicism.
Peter tilted his head. “Jason says it makes me sound cool.”
Bruce sighed lightly. “Of course he does.”
"Now, this is a surprise. When you said, you had a friend that needed training… I didn’t expect a toddler," Superman’s voice echoed through the Watchtower, his smile warm but teasing.
Peter immediately ducked behind Batman, peeking out nervously.
"He’s not a toddler," Batman replied with a sharp tone. "He’s just… small."
Just then, the teleporter lit up, and Dick stepped into the room.
"B-01: Nightwing," the computer announced as Dick arrived, his usual grin firmly in place.
"Nightwing! It’s so good to see you again!" Superman greeted, his energy as bright as the sun. "Now, tell me about the kid a little more before we start training. Like, does he have a name?"
Batman glanced down at Peter, his cape slightly parting as Peter peeked up at him. "I've given you the code name Spider-Boy. If you don't like it, we can change it."
Peter straightened up slightly, his voice soft but sure. "No, it’s a good name."
Bruce turned back to Superman. "You can call him Spider-Boy."
"Alright, Spider-Boy, Nightwing, training halls are this way," Superman said, motioning with a smile as he led the way.
Peter stayed close to Dick, his gaze flickering nervously between Superman and the floor as they walked down the gleaming hallway.
“So, Spider,” Superman began, his tone light but curious, “Bats mentioned you’ve got a little strength problem. Do you happen to know the origin of—”
“We don’t need to talk about that, Supes,” Dick interrupted firmly, his voice sharper than usual, carrying a weight more akin to Bruce’s than his own lighthearted demeanour. “All you need to know is he’s too strong and can’t control it.”
Superman’s smile faltered as he realized his misstep. “Sorry… didn’t mean to pry,” he said softly, the genuine regret clear in his tone. He quickly shifted gears, asking, “How much strength are we talking about?”
“We’re not sure of the exact limits,” Dick replied, his voice steady but with an edge. “But under stress, he’s demonstrated up to three tons of force.”
Superman’s eyes widened slightly, his attention shifting entirely to Peter. “Three tons? In a body that size?” he asked, glancing back at Dick in disbelief.
“Yeah,” Dick confirmed, his expression unreadable.
Superman whistled low, clearly impressed. “Well, that’s… something.”
They arrived at the training hall, an expansive space reinforced with some of the strongest materials on Earth. Superman gestured around with a proud smile.
“This place was designed to handle anything—even the toughest training sessions. The walls can withstand the force of a speeding train!” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Though… I’ve accidentally broken them a few times. Let’s try to avoid that today, shall we?”
“Okay,” Peter said softly, stepping out from behind Dick and following Superman to the center of the training hall. Dick stayed back, observing from a safe distance, well aware that he was in a room with two individuals who could accidentally flatten him with their bare hands.
Superman knelt slightly to meet Peter’s height, his tone encouraging. “When it comes to controlling your strength, think of everything as if it’s an egg. The tiniest, most fragile egg you’ve ever held. Every action, every movement—you have to treat it with that same care.”
Peter blinked, his mind drifting for a moment. He’d held an egg before... hadn’t he? Not him, but the Peter he was before. That life felt like it belonged to someone else—a distant shadow of himself. He had the memories, the pain, the knowledge of what happened. But as he stood there, the feeling of holding an egg in his hands seemed alien, like a texture or experience that had slipped through his fingers with time. He remembered cooking eggs, yes, but the sensation itself? Gone. The thought weighed on him, and he bit his lip, nodding to Superman as if to push the fleeting melancholy away.
Peter looked up at Superman, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ve never held an egg before.” His hands instinctively gripped each other for comfort, the unfamiliarity of the task making him feel uneasy.
Superman blinked, clearly taken aback by the admission. He paused, trying to find the right words, before offering a soft chuckle. “You’ve never held an egg...?” He sighed, then made a quick decision. “Alright, then let’s start there.”
With a swift motion, Superman flew across the room, returning with a carton of eggs in hand. “Maybe I should’ve brought more…” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, before gently opening the carton. He floated back to Peter and held out the eggs. “Alright, hold out your hands.”
Peter obediently raised both hands in a cupping motion, eyes wide as Superman carefully placed an egg into his palms. “Now, don’t move,” Superman instructed gently.
Peter stood as still as he could, his breath held in quiet anticipation. “Okay,” he whispered back, focusing entirely on the fragile object in his hands.
“Now, the goal here is to use as little strength as possible,” Superman explained, his tone calm and patient. “We’ll worry about building specific strength levels later. For now, it’s all about not breaking things.”
He placed the carton gently on the floor and, picking up an egg himself, sat down in front of Peter, towering over him despite his sitting position. Superman watched Peter closely, his gaze full of encouragement. Peter hadn’t moved yet. He just let the egg rest in his hands.
“So, step one is to move the egg around in your hands, but without squeezing it,” Superman explained, demonstrating by rolling the egg slowly between his palms, careful not to apply any pressure.
Peter watched closely, his brow furrowing. “But that doesn’t use any strength…” he said, mimicking Superman’s movements, trying to understand.
“We’re taking it slow for now,” Superman replied, offering Peter a warm smile. “But if you think you can handle it—we can move to the next stage.” His tone turned playful, challenging.
Peter grinned, determination lighting up his eyes. “I can handle it!”
Superman raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, if you say so…” He placed one palm gently over the egg, applying just enough pressure to push it around under his hand. “This can be tricky, so take it slow. Be careful!” His voice was light, but there was an unmistakable sense of encouragement in it.
It took countless tries, and countless eggs met their unfortunate end. At one point, Dick had to dash to the Watchtower kitchen and swipe a second dozen just to keep the exercise going. But finally, Peter managed to roll the egg gently across his palm. His face lit up with excitement as he cheered—only to accidentally crush it in the same moment.
“Look at that! You did it!” Superman said with an encouraging grin.
“But I broke it…” Peter muttered, his excitement fading into disappointment.
“That’s alright… you managed to roll it around,” Superman assured him.
“But it still broke,” Peter insisted, staring at the mess in his hand.
Superman chuckled softly, flying off for a brief moment. When he returned, he held a shiny metal doorknob in his hand. “Yes, the egg broke. But eggs are meant to break—they’re fragile. Let’s try something a little sturdier.” He placed the doorknob into Peter’s hand. “Now, grab it and turn it just a little.”
Peter hesitated, looking down at the doorknob nervously. “But I’ll break it…”
“Pretend it’s an egg,” Superman said reassuringly.
Taking a deep breath, Peter gently grasped the doorknob and turned it in the air. To his surprise, it didn’t bend or crush under his fingers.
A smile broke across Peter’s face as he looked up at Superman, pride beginning to replace his earlier frustration.
“See?” Superman said with an encouraging smile. “Right now, you’re focusing hard to keep from breaking things—but with practice, this kind of control will feel completely natural.”
Peter smiled, carefully placing the doorknob back in Superman's hand.
“I think that’s enough training for today,” Superman said, setting the doorknob on the ground. “You did really well, Peter.” He crouched slightly, his tone lightening. “Before you go, though, how about a quick game?”
Peter tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “A game?”
“Yep. Something fun to wind down. What do you say?” Superman said, his ever-present smile shining.
“Umm… Sure,” Peter replied, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Alright,” Superman grabbed a ball from the equipment rack on the side of the room. “You’ve played catch before, right?”
“I know how to play…”
“Good. I have one rule: don’t break any walls.”
Peter nodded, catching the ball gently when Superman lobbed it to him. He cradled it in his hands for a moment, concentrating hard. Taking a breath, Peter threw the ball toward Superman—only for it to miss entirely and slam into the wall. The reinforced material cracked slightly before the ball rebounded, zooming dangerously close to Dick, who had to leap out of the way.
“Hey!” Dick yelled, startled but unharmed.
“Sorry!” Peter called his cheeks flushing as he darted toward the ball to retrieve it.
This time, he gripped the ball with determination, focusing hard before tossing it back to Superman. The throw was careful, but still packed more strength than intended. Superman caught it with ease, though the ball sizzled slightly in his hand, a faint wisp of smoke rising.
“A little less, Peter,” Superman chuckled, examining the ball briefly. “At this rate, you’ll break another wall!” His tone was light and encouraging as he gently tossed the ball back to Peter.
Peter caught the ball again, his brows furrowing in frustration as he stared down at it. He let out a slow breath, trying to focus. This time, he imagined he was tossing an egg into a delicate basket. With a light, controlled motion, he gently tossed the ball toward Superman, his movements careful and precise.
Superman caught the ball effortlessly, his smile widening. From the sidelines, Dick clapped his hands and cheered, his voice echoing through the hall.
"Let’s go, little man!" Dick hollered, grinning ear to ear as Peter bounced on his toes, excitement radiating off him.
“See? You’ve got this,” Superman said, tossing the ball back with just the right amount of force to keep things safe. They began a slow, easy game of catch, each throw building Peter’s confidence a little more.
As they exited the training hall, Peter hesitated momentarily before reaching up and grabbing Superman’s hand tightly. His voice was soft, barely a whisper, “Thank you for the help…”
Superman looked down at him, his face softening with a warm smile. "You're welcome, Peter. You're doing great."
Dick, trailing behind them, couldn’t help but pout slightly, his arms crossed as he watched the scene. It wasn’t jealousy, not really, but Peter had been so focused on his training with Superman that he hadn’t paid much attention to Dick. He understood, though; Peter was still working through his own worries, especially about not accidentally hurting anyone, and Sups could handle his strength with no problem. Still, Dick couldn’t shake the slight pang of feeling left out.
They walked into the central area of the Watchtower, where Bruce was at a computer, poring over case files. Peter’s eyes lit up when he saw him, and he practically bounced over to his side.
“Dad!” Peter called out excitedly, holding up the red ball that Superman had given him, his face beaming with pride.
Bruce glanced over, his eyes softening as he saw Peter’s excitement. But he remained focused on his screen for a moment longer before turning to Peter, “Look at you!”
Superman stepped up behind them, nodding. "He did pretty good today. If he keeps focusing, he’ll get the hang of it. But the more he practices, the easier it’ll get, especially as he gets older—and probably stronger."
Bruce raised an eyebrow, turning his attention fully to Peter. “I’m glad to hear that. We’ll keep working on it.” He looked down at the red ball Peter was clutching and gave a small smile. "Good work today, Spider-Boy."
Peter beamed, holding the ball close to his chest. "Thank you."
Superman smiled warmly, his gaze shifting between Peter and Bruce. "Same time next week for lesson two?"
Batman slightly nodded; his usual stoic demeanour softened just a touch. "Yes, if you’re still able."
Superman’s grin widened. "Absolutely, Batman. I’ve got you covered." He gave a quick salute before stepping away. “Bye, Spider-Boy!”
Peter looked up at Bruce, his eyes shining with excitement. "I get to train again?"
Bruce's lips curled into a rare, subtle smile. "Yes, you do. But for now, let's head home."
__
Dick followed Superman down the corridor while Bruce took Peter back to the manor.
"Hey, Supes!" Dick called out, his tone light, though he could see the weight hanging over Superman’s shoulders.
Superman turned, looking at Nightwing with a serious expression. "Nightwing…" He placed a hand on Dick's shoulder. "Who is that kid? Why has he—"
"Never held an egg? Never played catch before?" Dick interrupted with a small, knowing smile, though his voice lacked its usual cheer.
"That… but also," Superman hesitated, glancing down as if choosing his words carefully. "I was checking if his strength was causing him harm. Straining his muscles or damaging his bones. I used my X-ray vision to check…"
"So you saw it then," Dick said softly, his smile fading.
Superman nodded, his voice heavy. "That child—"
"Sups," Dick cut him off gently but firmly.
"Nightwing," Superman countered, his brow furrowed. “That boy…”
"Everything is fine now," Dick said, his voice calm but resolute. "He's safe. I was just wondering if I should bring something to his next lesson. More eggs, maybe?"
"No, but—" Superman said, getting cut off by Dick again.
“Superman,” he said with quiet conviction. “He had bad things happen. But he’s safe now. And he’s got people looking out for him. That’s what matters.”
Superman exhaled deeply, his features softening as he nodded. “Alright… I’ll see you both next week.”