Vexillum

It's been two weeks since the initiation of the flag project. 

With every day, more and more houses are decorated with the little coloured flags connected to the bricks close to front facing windows. 

It took a little while for the system to be set up nicely, and for testing to be done smoothly and efficiently. People who are unable to provide help for local vigilantes started applying for positions to help clear and instruct those who did apply to take part of the service, optimising the speed of which families and houses get checked and approved. 

Construction workers have started volunteering their break times by helping people install their flags on the high roofs or apartment balconies. The project isn't able to reward them for their input, but the good and kindhearted people that receive this bit of help usually give something in return of their own, varying from a bit of cash, a meal and one time even leftover cinema tickets.

Every time it's shown more and more how the people of New York can and will take care of one another. Even if they don't know them. 

Enter Spider-Man, the superhero that started this beautiful movement, without intention. He's sitting on the ledge of a factory near the edge of the city, just calmly looking over the place he protects. 

The streets are lined with coloured flags everywhere he looks. It's a beautiful, heartwarming sight.

So far though, the spandex clad hero in question hasn't made use of the new project yet, Invitations billow in the wind but yet he feels unwelcome, a bother actually. All those homes are just that, a home. He doesn't want to disturb that. Even if they specifically invite him to. 

The teenage hero continues to stare out over the city that never sleeps, as the tiredness starts to sink in. He's been out in the suit for hours now, trailing leads, listening in and helping out on other matters here and there. Just because he's trailing what is suspected to be an underground drug ring, doesn't mean he should ignore anything else. 

Edges of buildings and colours from flags slowly blur into one another until he practically sees double. The lenses on the mask open and close exaggeratedly as Peter blinks quickly to wake himself back up. It doesn't work. 

Luckily, before his eyes can start to close or blur again his ears pick up on a whisper a few blocks away. It's funny really, how everything makes noise and sound. Everything around him is distracting and should be overloading his sensitive ears. But those who try to be truly silent are the loudest of all, its sound waves reaching high over those of bells and laughter and the sputtering of cars. He takes off towards the murmurs without a second thought.

***

If Peter didn't know better, he'd say these guys are true amateurs. They're trying so hard to be inconspicuous that they might as well be waving a gun around.

It's a group of five people all fully dressed in black with thick long coats. Three of them are even wearing a hat low on their heads, their faces hidden in shadow. The men, because of course they're all men in their mid 40's to 50's, are standing in a dark alleyway under the light of a single street lantern, soft rain dancing in the yellow light. It makes a comically accurate picture from a movie and Peter had to hold in a snort when he arrived.

Now though he's sitting on the roof of the building next to the alleyway listening along to their poorly concealed plans.

They're discussing the quality of the products they've been distributing to test their customers for when the big stuff comes in. Apparently even drug dealers partake in campaigns and business connections. It's then that the tallest of them all whispers something to the others, his sly smile visible to not only the rest of the group, but to Peter's enhanced vision too. 

"Would ya like to try some?" He asks and honest to the gods lifts a side of his thick coat, revealing several bags of powder taped to the insides. 

Peter can't stop the actual facepalm in time. The sound of his gloved hand meeting the hard material of the lenses echoes through the near silent streets. 

He stills, hoping the shady people below haven't noticed. The teen could be lucky, the rain that has started falling only minutes before is becoming harder and more aggressive with the second. It covers up a lot as the drops hit everything around, harshly hitting metal benches and hollow cardboard boxes. 

And while those drops of rain definitely don't fall silently, he has forgotten that he in fact has enhanced hearing and so what is loud for him, is background noise to another. 

Parker luck strikes again.

The men look around suspiciously not a moment later. 

"I swear I heard something."

"I'd say take another, but this time I heard it too."

"If anyone finds us I'll leave the lot of you, hope you know."

"Wow thanks Jimmy, really shows that you care more about what's in your coat than about us."

"Yeah Morris, aren't we a team, ey?"

None of them look up, Spider-Man remains hidden. They're distracted by their own bantering and cease their search for the sound. Peter himself is distracted momentarily too, purely because he can't believe they really just revealed a name. He couldn't believe his ears already when they dropped the tall guy's first name, but it only got better when another added on, Jimmy's apparently, last name. 

He might as well have won the jackpot.

"When was this guy coming again?" He suddenly hears, quickly zoning back in on the situation.

"Said he'd be here right after getting off the plane. Calculated it myself, he'll be here at 1:30 boys." 

"Boris, it's 1:43. So tell me this, where is he?"

"I don't know, he should be here. I even calculated the average travel time by taxi or subway. You don't think he's bailing on us, do you. We really need this deal."

"Nah, he needs us more than we need him for this deal. trust me." The tall one, Jimmy Morris says in an overly confident tone. It's silent for a little while, save for the patter of rain before the smallest and most deep voiced of the group speaks up.

"And did you think of the time zone difference?"

".....the what?"

"You idiot!" the deep gravelly voice scratches out. Some might call it a yell or a shout but due to the low baritone of the man's voice it doesn't reach those same volumes. Should have not smoked those cigarettes as a kid, maybe. "Time zones! He travelled through different time zones. Flight time and arrival time maths includes calculating the time zone differences! We have to wait another three hours!"

Peter's stomach drops. Three more hours of waiting, not to mention how long the amatoure transaction may take. He's already exhausted and shivering, miserably watching as the men sit down under the edge of the building, slightly hidden from the rain and collectively light a cigarette. 

They're settling in for a long night. Peter knows he should do the same, but at the same time his body doesn't want to anymore. He's so tired and cold, soaked to the bone and would do anything for a blanket or a towel. Not to forget that he does have school tomorrow and staying alert on the street the entire night will not help his academic presentation. 

It's then that the green flag catches his eye. 

The building he is currently perched on top of, the building that the crooks he is spying on are sitting against, is decorated with a small green flag. He might just cry.

***

It only took a moment of consideration for Peter to inconspicuously lower himself from the roof and move to the front door. The window would have definitely been easier and less noticeable but this is his first time doing this so he wants to leave a good impression. Or at least not scare this kind hearted person–that's opening part of their home to him–to death. He's grateful enough as it is that people want to help him, let alone apply to support him, and other vigilante's, in ways like these.

Every 'Service' being offered to the superheroes of New York is marked by a coloured flag. Most households that have signed up for the program have one flag displayed somewhere on the front of their house, usually near the roof or connected to the windows. Many of them however have multiple. Once you're cleared as safe people with good intentions it's easier to be checked to provide multiple things at a time. 

This house only has a green flag, which doesn't mean it's debatable about its safety, they merely aren't equipped for things like first aid. Not to forget that being a green flag service provider is a big enough thing as it is. 

Green Flag locations open up their living space as a safehouse. Somewhere to lay low for the night with basic needs provided. A bed, some water, rest and silence. It's perfect for the situation he is in now. 

He quickly raps his knuckles on the door as the rain starts pelting down on his shoulder with renewed vigour. 

Just a few seconds later a woman opens the door. Her hair is light and falls in layers that frame a kind, smiling face. There's a hint of surprise in there but most of that is overshadowed by professional hospitality. Her smile widens as she takes a small step to the left, creating an opening invitation to come inside. 

"Good evening, Mr. Spider-Man. Anything I can do for you?" her voice is soft and it warms him up a bit from the cold weather. Peter really can't wait to get inside.

"Hello ma'am. Just Spider-Man is fine. Umh, I can come in right?" He starts to ask, quickly realising how that sounds. "Only if it's true that this is a safehouse location. And that I'm not an inconvenience to you tonight. I can leave of course, I'm sorry for bothe–"

"Yes dear, You're more than welcome to come in. Would you like a towel?" she quickly interrupts. Everyone in New York has heard Spider-Man rambling about one time or another; It's only natural that she tries to stop the hero before he inevitably runs out of breath.

"Thank you. And yes please. Thank you" He repeats, quickly shuffling inside.

She leads him to a decently spacious room on the first floor and guides him into the connected bathroom. Without any preamble she starts opening cabinets and throws him a bathrobe as well as two soft fluffy towels. They're all bright green and clash horribly with his suit but even through the spandex he can feel their softness and quickly wraps himself up with the fabriks.

They stand there silently for a moment. Peter wants to thank her again but feels like he might be overdoing it, she did sign up for this after all, and so his mouth stays shut. 

"This is your first time doing this, isn't it?" The house-owner eventually says.

"Is it that obvious?" 

"A bit." She laughs, light and unaccusing. "But I've also been following the news. Figured you haven't stopped by anywhere before, it surely would have been reported on. Not to mention the amount of fans that resigned from the service because you hadn't come and visited them yet. Might have been a good thing you waited a bit, weeded out those with a good heart but the wrong intentions."

Peter can only nod along as he follows her back into the bedroom. 

"For now, you go dry off. If you want there are some clothes in the drawer to either replace the suit or to layer up, anything is fine. I'll make you a cup of tea in the meantime, sounds good?" 

"Yeah that sounds lovely. Thanks." He really appreciates the woman checking in with him on everything. This new experience has been scary enough already so it's nice that nothing unpredictable happens. 

The moment the door closes he shucks off his mask and rubs one of the towels through his hair. He knows cold wet hair doesn't do much good to anyone going outside, and though he hasn't been sick in a long while he doesn't want to risk it.

After he deems his curls to be dry enough he gives the mask a quick run over with the same towel before putting it back on. Hesitantly he shuffles over to the drawers against the wall and ruffles through them for clothes. He finds a soft looking pair of sweatpants and a thick forest green hoodie that practically calls his name. He puts them on over his suit and adds the fluffy bathrobe for good measure. Since the spider-bite he hasn't dealt well with the cold so he can use the layers after being in that sudden rainstorm. 

The addition of even more shades of green creates a hilarious picture in comparison to the red of his suit but he doesn't care much about how he looks as he plops himself down on the bed. 

From his position on the kingsize bed that's placed against the wall he realises that the room he is in is directly next to the alley. Meaning he can hear every word of the suspicious men he's been following clear as day. 

They're mostly just chatting about to pass time but do slip in a bit of useful information now and then. So he simply sits there and listens for a while. 

Just a few short minutes later the homeowner returns with two cups of tea in hand. She knocked on the door first, of course, to make sure that the superhero staying in her house was fully dressed and masked. He deserves that bit of privacy, even in her own house.

"Hope you enjoy some herbal tea. I didn't have many options available."

"Well it smells great already." Peter replies and he means it. Not only does the tea flavouring smell amazing, so does the warmth that's wafting off of the cups. He gratefully accepts one of the cups and both participants in the room take a careful sip.

"So mister Spider-Man, any name you'd prefer me to call you by?"

"Ma'am, are you trying to find out my identity?" He asks but with a smirk that's fully exposed since his mask is bunched up to his nose to consume the hot beverage.

"Not at all. Spider-Man is just such a mouth full, you know?"

"Yeah I get it. Most just call me Spidey but I'm open to other ideas!" 

"Spidey it is. I think it suits you." 

"Thank you." he hesitates, looking around the room for a moment before turning back to his conversation partner. "May I know what your name is as well?" 

She laughs, a soft but full sound, "Of course love. I'm Joanne. You're currently in my son's room, Damian. But he's at college for the time being so it seemed like a good idea to use the space for something good. He's a big fan of yours by the way." 

"Oh really?" Peter perks up at the new information. He's always loved learning new things about other people. "What is he studying?" 

"Botany. He's always been a fan of plants and the like. Also might explain why you're currently dressed in green. That boy has had green fingers since he's a child and everything he owned needed to be green as well." 

"So he probably would like a picture of Spider-Man, in his room, in his green clothes as a thank you for using the space for the night?" 

"I think he'd be thrilled. Probably won't talk to me about much else for the rest of the month though."

Peter instantly shifts over to her side as she pulls out her phone for the picture. "Then you better be on it too, huh." 

They quickly take a few pictures together, the first with his smile open and wide, and the rest with his mask pulled back down. She promised to only show the one with the bottom of his face showing to her son in person, but he quickly assured her it's alright. Most people of New York have already seen that part of his face anyway, at least the food sellers do. 

"Well I best leave you be then, shouldn't I. I imagine you have lots to do tonight." 

While taking the pictures he had been listening along to the conversation outside. His hearing is good enough to not have to focus too much on it anyways and they had just started discussing some interesting plans for the following days. Just as Joanne stands up to leave he hears something through the wall and he smiles widely.

"Thank you Joanne, this really helps a lot." 

"Got everything you need?" 

"Absolutely. It was nice getting to know you." he assures while memorising the address the thugs outside just revealed. He absolutely has everything he needs now.

The door closes behind Joanne and he leans back against the wall. Warm, comfortable and satisfied with how his night is turning out he continues to listen along with the highly classified conversation outside, waiting for the rain to stop. He's in no hurry to leave, feeling welcomed and appreciative of the help the kind people of his city can offer.

He leaves through the window in the early hours of the morning, not wanting to disturb Joanne who had turned in for bed a few hours prior. On the bed remains a handwritten thank you note, signed by Spider-Man. 

The world wakes up to a thank you on the official Spider-Man twitter account, displaying his appreciation openly on social media for the helping hand project. A few hours later a selfie of a masked person and a woman in her 40's is added to the tweet. The world goes wild, especially after the police release statements about an arrest and investigation in a drug trade due to the new information received from Spider-Man. The program skyrockets and even more people apply, or make use of it. The Defenders even start to camp out at some locations when working on high end missions. 

New York changes once again for the better, this time all starting with that little green flag.