Friends and Jealousy
The day flew by in a whirlwind of laughter and playful competition. Tim dominated most of the games, much to Damian's mounting frustration. Predictably, Damian rage-quit before the final round, storming off to patrol—a place where Tim couldn’t follow. As he left, Damian made sure to throw a pointed comment over his shoulder, reminding Tim of that fact.
Peter, on the other hand, couldn’t stop smiling. Winning or losing didn’t matter to him. He felt entirely at ease for the first time in a long while. Spending the day surrounded by his family made him feel like he truly belonged.
“Screw you, Damian!” Tim yelled, springing up from the couch. “When Bruce lets me fight again, I’m gonna beat—” He stopped himself mid-sentence, glancing down at Peter, who was staring up at him with wide eyes. “—the poop out of you!”
“I’d like to see you try!” Damian shot back, already darting down the hallway and slamming the door behind him.
Tim leapt out of his chair, rushing to the door and yanking it open—only to come face-to-face with Bruce, who was reaching for the doorknob.
“Going somewhere?” Bruce asked, arching an eyebrow as Damian vanished around the corner at the end of the hall.
“Uh… no! Just, um, getting more snacks for game night!” Tim stammered, his face betraying his obvious intentions. He awkwardly sidestepped Bruce, trying to play it cool.
Bruce’s unimpressed gaze followed him as Tim walked slowly—then bolted after Damian the moment he thought he was out of Bruce’s sight.
Bruce let out a long, exasperated sigh before stepping into the room. “Peter, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Yes?” Peter asked, kneeling on the couch and leaning over the back to face Bruce.
“Well... you see...” Bruce hesitated, walking toward the couch before sitting beside Peter. “I’m Bruce Wayne, and being Bruce Wayne means I’m... quite famous. People like to keep tabs on me. Normally, I can manage that, but I haven’t been attending many galas recently because of everything else going on.”
Bruce paused again, his tone a little uncertain. Peter tilted his head, clearly listening intently.
“That’s not the main point,” Bruce continued, his voice softening. “Some people have noticed. And although I’ve kept you out of the public eye, there’s been speculation. People have started piecing things together—your rescue, the police reports, the fact I’ve been staying out of the limelight. They suspect I’ve adopted another child.”
Peter shifted, now sitting flat on the couch, staring down at his feet.
“There’s been some backlash,” Bruce admitted, his tone careful. “People are concerned you’re not getting an education, and... well, they’re turning it into an issue. So I wanted to ask—if you feel ready, of course—whether you’d prefer a private tutor... or if you’d like to attend Gotham Academy.”
Peter hesitated, his mind torn. A private tutor made sense—he could learn at a higher level, considering he already knew far more than most six-year-olds. But going to school again... that could be fun. He could meet new people, make new friends...
Friends.
His breath hitched as the thought spiralled.
I don’t want new friends... I want my friends. I want Ned. I want MJ. Stop. Don’t think about it. You can’t—
His hands curled into fists, his chest tightening. They’re gone. Ned is gone. MJ is gone. I can’t do this. I can’t…
“Peter, it’s alright if you’re not ready,” Bruce said gently, reassuringly touching his shoulder. “I can handle the backlash. I’ll tell them Alfred is homeschooling you if that’s what you want.”
Peter shook his head, his gaze dropping to the floor. “No… I want to learn. I was just thinking about the other kids my age…” He took a deep breath, forcing the swirling thoughts out of his mind.
I can’t keep clinging to what’s gone, or I’ll be alone forever.
“Can I try the academy?” Peter asked, his voice a bit tentative. “And if I don’t like it, could I switch to tutors instead?”
Bruce nodded, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Of course. It’s only the beginning of August, so we’ll arrange for a tutor to help you catch up before school starts in September.”
“August?” Peter’s eyes widened, surprised by how quickly time had flown.
Bruce chuckled lightly. “Yes, the summer’s almost over. But don’t worry. Damian will be at the academy, too. He’ll be in the older section, but he’ll keep an eye out for you if you need it.”
Peter hesitated for a moment before speaking up. “My birthday’s in August,” he whispered, looking up at Bruce with a hint of uncertainty.
Bruce’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really? Do you know what day?”
Peter frowned, trying to recall. “I don’t think it was in the file…”
Bruce smiled, his tone gentle. “Well, then, why don’t you pick a day? Any day you want.”
Peter’s gaze flickered up, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “Will I get a birthday party?”
Bruce's smile widened as he looked down at Peter. “Of course you will! It’s your first birthday here, and we’re going to make it special.”
Peter’s eyes brightened. “Really?”
Bruce leaned in slightly, lowering his voice with a playful grin. “I’ll make it even better than Damian’s!”
Peter smiled, jumping up joyfully and wrapping his arms around Bruce's neck. “Thank you,” he thought about the best day. August… Peter Parker's birthday was August tenth… “Could my birthday be on the tenth?”
“Of course.”
___
Bruce had decided that Alfred would tutor Peter, ensuring he wouldn’t fall behind when he started school. The boy had already lost too much—his entire childhood spent in what was little more than a glorified cell. Bruce didn’t even want to imagine what had come before that.
The file they’d recovered was unsettling. Peter’s first experiment took place while he was still a newborn. Hybruis theorized that this early exposure was the only reason he survived the later trials—unlike most of the other children, who had been abducted from Crime Alley at various ages.
Peter’s origins remained a mystery. His file contained no mention of a mother or father, and the genetic modifications had erased any hope of tracing his lineage. His altered DNA made it impossible to identify relatives, leaving little chance of ever discovering how he ended up in that hellish laboratory.
“Well, Master Peter, let’s begin with English. I know you can read, but how is your writing?”
Bruce leaned against the wall, silently observing as Peter gripped the pencil tightly in his tiny hands.
___
How do I tell them I know more than they do without sounding rude?
I was smart enough to skip class entirely and still get full marks. But I guess I’ll have to get used to pretending. I’ll be doing this for the next eleven years, after all.
I could graduate early… but skipping grades won’t help my real goal.
Make new friends. Not as replacements—I could never replace them—but I think they’d want me to have someone to lean on.
Ned would probably be jealous… but he doesn’t even remember me.
So, I guess it’s okay.