superposition

I hope you find some peace of mind in this lifetime
tell them, tell 'em, tell them the truth
I hope you find some paradise (tell them, tell 'em the truth)
tell 'em, tell 'em, tell 'em, tell them your-

To say that the tension in the room was palpable would be an understatement. There weren't enough adjectives in any language to accurately describe how rigid the air in the conference room was and they had only made their entrance less than five minutes ago. 

Peter had taken the seat at the end of the long table, directly across from Sam, who sat with Bucky, Steve, and Clint on one side and Rhodey and Natasha on the other. Kate had been quick to take the seat to the right of him and Tony didn’t need to be a genius to recognize that the two were a united front. Tony had wanted to take the seat on the other side of Peter, but with the way the kid had been holding him at arm’s length, he settled beside Happy a few seats away from both ends of the table. 

Eighteen year old Peter Parker seemed to hold himself with a confidence that sixteen year old Peter Parker didn’t have. Where sixteen year old Peter had looked at any Avenger with stars in his eyes and the type of shyness that came with meeting your heroes, eighteen year old Peter stared down the opposite end of the table with sharp eyes and square shoulders. 

Despite his previous reluctance to even come to the Tower and earlier desire to leave, the teenager didn’t look intimidated by the presence of the uninvited Avengers. 

“Alright,” Tony tapped his fingers against the table. Someone had to be the first to speak. “Why don’t we start with the more…easier explanation, I suppose.” He looked around the room before his gaze fell on Peter.

“As I’m sure most of you remember, winning against Thanos was one in fourteen million.” Tony took a deep breath, wringing his hands together. Most of the people in the room had already been given the rundown of how the trio had come to be, but he didn’t want to omit any details. “Well, Nat, Steve, and I happen to be from a timeline, a universe, where we weren’t that one in fourteen million.” 

As he spoke of the Watcher and the sands of the Soul Stone, he made sure to glance around at the other occupants of the room but really, he was watching for Peter’s reaction to his words. While Kate looked shocked and enthralled by the circumstances of their existence, Peter’s face gave no clue as to what was going through the boy’s head. He was completely guarded, his sharp gaze flat. 

He knew that Peter had gone through a lot in the two years that Tony had been gone. That much was obvious. If he didn’t already know that May had passed, he would have been able to infer that from the emotional detachment the boy seemed to have adopted. The Peter that he used to spend Tuesdays and Thursdays in the lab with wore his heart of gold on his sleeve, reading the kid was as easy as reading a billboard. 

That wasn’t the case anymore.

“Fuck,” Kate breathed out, a hand to her temple. “I have to say, when I asked for an explanation I honestly wasn’t expecting all of…that.” 

“Yeah, join the club.” Bucky grumbled, leaning back in his chair with crossed arms.

“So, Queens,” Steve cleared his throat, “That’s our story, mind explaining yours?” Tony turned his attention back towards Peter, days of nothing but questions all lead up to this. (He wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear.)

Instead of responding, the kid just raised an eyebrow. He didn’t seem to have the same issue with meeting Tony’s eyes as he had before, his nonchalant attitude a stark difference from both the impassive demeanor from the night before or the anger from just moments earlier. His confidence made him seem almost indifferent. 

Before he could speak, a heavy sigh came from his right and Sam’s voice cut in, “Look, kid-” He was quickly cut off. 

“Peter.” 

Sam blinked, “Huh?”

Peter leaned forward over the table, his hands clasped in front of him, “Peter. You all obviously know who I am and what my name is, so use it.” 

It was silent for a moment, the only person not taken aback by the teenager’s tenacity being Kate. If anything, she looked like she expected that kind of reaction from him. 

“Right,” Sam continued, his voice short. “Peter, according to Tony, Steve, and Natasha, we all knew you in their…universe. And from what it looks like with Happy, we should know you in ours. I’d like to know why none of us have any idea who you are and especially why there seems to be no record of you at all.” 

“Hold on,” Tony was quick to defend, “This whole conversation was not for you to interrogate him, it wasn’t even for you in the first place.” 

“Tony, if he’s just going to beat around the bush-” Rhodey retorted and he couldn’t stop the way his jaw dropped. 

“Beat around the bush? I’m sorry, I must have missed the memo that said thirty seconds was the max before Captain America’s righteousness got unleashed.” 

“Stop!” Peter snapped, “Tony, all of you, just shut up.” He sighed, running a hand down his face. Silence filled the room, everyone’s attention on him. 

Well, almost everyone. Tony’s silence was less from being snapped at and more from being rendered speechless at the use of his first name. He couldn’t count on two hands how many times he had tried to convince Peter to drop the “Mr. Stark” act and give in to calling him by his first name only for it to never happen and now here he was, casually dropping calling him Tony but it lacked any warmth. 

He never thought he’d miss being called Mr. Stark. 

“Honestly, Captain Wilson, valid question.” Peter shrugged, sliding his cardboard coffee cup from hand to hand. “That was probably the most straightforward way any of you could have asked so I’m not sure why everything needs to turn into an argument between you guys.”

No one spoke, allowing the young man time before he continued. 

“This is so fucked.” He muttered, though it was mostly to himself. “Alright, two years ago, Spider-Man’s identity got revealed. To the world. Not that any of you would remember that, obviously, that was pretty much the catalyst for all this.” He waved his hands around to accentuate his point. 

All Tony could do was blink. He knew how important keeping his identity a secret was to Peter, to have it revealed to the entire world had to have been a waking nightmare. (And Tony wasn’t there.)

“That went about as well as you’d think,” Peter snorted, his tone with a bitter edge to it. “I’m not gonna lie, it really messed everything up and it wasn’t just for me. A lot of people got hurt, people that I care about.” He glanced over at Happy, who had been quiet this entire time, some emotion breaking through his guarded eyes. 

“Keeping my identity a secret is for good reason and with the way things played out, it would be stupid to willingly divulge that information to anyone again.” With his words, Peter pointed a fierce glare towards anyone who was not Happy or Kate, the subtext clear. “But I’ll be honest, I fucked up. Really fucked up and I ended up making things. There was only one way to fix it,” He took in a deep breath.

“It wasn’t enough for people to forget that I was Spider-Man, they had to forget that Peter Parker existed at all.” 

The silence was so heavy, it was suffocating. How do you respond to something like that? Selflessness was consistent throughout every iteration of Peter Parker that Tony had ever known, but he never thought that the kid would go as far as to erase his own existence. The thing that bothered him the most was that there was no regret in that last sentence, just acceptance, like this was something Peter would do again if he was faced with the same situation. 

It made him feel sick.

“What?” Kate whispered and her and Peter shared another one of those silent exchanges, ending with the teen shaking his head and Kate turning hers to the side while blinking furiously. 

“May wasn’t your fault, Peter.” Happy said, his tone soft but stern. 

Peter clenched his fist, his eyes snapping towards the older man. “Don’t…I didn’t-I don’t want to hear that. I don’t need to hear that.” His voice wavered slightly although he did a damn good job at covering it up. “Don’t say that to me.” 

“Pete, what happened?” Tony needed to know more, the vague details were killing him and he couldn’t shake the helplessness over the situation. He should have been there. “Who did this?” 

“That’s not important,” The response was quick, “What’s done is done, Tony. It doesn’t matter.” There was his name again, tone dry and foreign. 

“Yeah, here’s the thing, kid. That information is pretty important, especially when we know that there’s more to that whole story.” Rhodey cut in, voice was sympathetic but Tony recognized his demeanor as Colonel Rhodes as opposed to Rhodey.

“Peter.” The eighteen year old corrected again, “And if you know there’s more to the story, why don’t you go ahead and tell it?” 

“C’mon, you know full well what he’s talkin’ about.” Bucky said. “Do us all a favor and just get on with it.” 

Tony was ready to cut in again, though sharp looks from both Natasha and Kate had him closing his mouth. Right, Peter could take care of himself. Right, right. 

“Yeah and a favor for who exactly?” Peter scoffed. “I didn’t even want to be here in the first place and the last I checked, I don’t owe any of you anything. Honestly, the only people here who deserve any semblance of an explanation would be Happy and Kate.”

Sam slapped his palms against the table, “Peter , three Spider-Men at the Statue of Liberty is troubling on its own and that’s not even to mention the damage that you did to the London Bridge. Our concern is for a damn good reason when you’re obviously reckless and irresponsible enough to get your identity revealed.” 

“Woah, woah, wait a minute,” Clint’s brows furrowed, the archer looking alarmed by Sam’s accusations. He wasn’t the only one, even Rhodey and Bucky seemed perturbed along with the rest of the occupants sans Peter.

Peter’s face grew darker throughout Sam’s interlude and his fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white.  “You know nothing. You don’t get to bring up the Statue of Liberty or London of all things when none of you,” He spat, his voice holding a level of anger that Tony had never heard from him before. He unraveled his fist, pointing specifically at the gathered Avengers at the end of the table. “None of you helped because it wasn’t an “Avengers-level threat.” You know what? Accountability only means so much when you actually help people, some of us don’t pick and choose who deserves that help.”

He stood up, shoving the chair back and flicking his wrist to the side, revealing his web-shooter as he yanked his skateboard into his hands.”I’m not an Avenger, and honestly, thank God for that because I’m not following your fucking rules and I never will. The world doesn’t need to be ending for me to help people and I sure as hell won’t wait for permission to do so.” He turned on his heel, heading towards the door. Before making his exit, Peter paused, looking back at the group over his shoulder, “Oh, and if you really want to talk about London, why don’t you ask Director Fury? I’m sure he’s no longer off-world, right Colonel?” 

-

p.p (6:31 pm): whats the address 

f.h (6:44 pm): :) 

-

Peter knew a lot of things, healthy coping mechanisms were not one of them.

He knew, he fucking knew that going to the Tower was a mistake and yet, he did it anyways. You would think that he had learned his lesson by now for making bad decisions but he just. keeps. doing. it. 

He had everything under control and now it was slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t take the way that Tony kept looking at him, like he was still seeing the Peter that had an internship that went from a cover story to something real. Like he was still that kid from Queens who had never been on an airplane before. 

Happy and the Avengers being there didn’t make things better. It hurt to be looked at without a spark of recognition by them and it was much worse to be looked at with pity by everyone. Fuck, even Kate looked at him like he was pathetic and that was the last straw for him. It wasn’t Sam’s accusations or Rhodey and Bucky’s distrust, it was the plaintive way they all saw him. 

Peter Parker would never be pathetic again. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” An arm wrapped around his bicep, “Or better yet,” A red solo cup was held out to him and Felicia Hardy was smirking up at him. 

He accepted the offering with his free hand, sniffing the liquid inside, “What’s in this?” 

“Mmm, little bit of this, little of that.” She shrugged, green eyes sparkling, “Nothing too strong for you.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, taking a sip only to be met with the burn of straight vodka. “Oh my god, is this Skol?” He coughed, he might not be able to get drunk but he wasn’t immune to the disgusting way shots tasted. “This is literally just straight liquor.” 

The Spins by Mac Miller blared from someone’s JBL as Felicia laughed, leaning back onto her heels and holding onto Peter’s arm for stability. “Awe, two shots. How will you ever recover?” She stuck out her bottom lip in mockery. 

He huffed in amusement, tipping his head back to down the rest of the cup. “Skol? Out of everything?” 

“Peter, literally everybody in this room are underage, college students. It’s either this or Pink Whitney, you tell me which one sounds better.” 

“Right, okay.” He paused, “I thought you said this was a kegger?” 

Felicia grinned up at him again before turning with enough force that her white-blonde hair threatened to whip him in the face and pulled him by the hand across the basement. The sylly-week party that he had been invited to was in some sophomore’s house on campus, the basement big enough to accommodate what looked to be at least a hundred freshman and sophomores. If this is what the Monday festivities looked like, he could only imagine what the end of syllabus week would bring. 

They stopped next to  two beer kegs where a few guys were shouting in excitement over one doing a keg-stand on the top of one, a small crowd chanting “Chug! Chug! Chug!” Perfect , Peter thought, this was just what he needed. 

“Parker!” One of the guys clapped his hands together, pointing one of them at Peter. “Just the man I was looking for!” 

Peter couldn’t help but laugh, “I’m sure you were, Lucas. Someone has to show you guys how it’s done right,” He gestured at the guys holding up the legs of the kegstander. 

“Big talk, big man,” Lucas’ breath reeked of alcohol, the older boy slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulders, “Yo, Brian, let Parker go next! He wants to show off for his girlllfrienddd~” 

Peter ducked out from under his grasp, huffing a laugh, “Fuck off, Fi’s not my girlfriend.” 

Lucas looked over towards Felicia, winking at the blonde, earning the middle-finger and an amused sneer in return, “Just wanted to see if that was still true. In that case-”

“In your dreams, Lukey,” She flicked his forehead, “And my nightmares.” 

“You wound me, Felicia.” 

“Parker, you’re up!” Brian’s voice interrupted any chance of Lucas and Felicia’s banter to continue, though he was used to it by now. They only ever saw each other at parties, never outside of them, but the friendly arguments were common regardless. 

A grin grew across his face, the one that Kate had once described as cocky and charming- with one side raised and just a little bit of self-assured arrogance. He stepped in front of the keg, grasping the handles and Peter could almost hear the baited breath of the crowd around him, the blaring music more an afterthought. He was the entertainment now. 

With little effort, he pushed off the ground into a handstand over the kegerator, holding himself up without the aid of anyone grasping his legs. The hood of his sweatshirt hung loosely over the backwards Mets hat that pressed down his curls. As if they haven’t seen him complete this feat before, the crowd erupted into drunken cheers and Felicia knelt down in front of him, though upside down, and held the mouthpiece to his lips. 

Lucas and his friends got what sounded like everyone chanting for Peter to chug, and he did. For a moment, it was easy to pretend that he was just a normal college student that could do stupid things like getting drunk on a Monday night or do a keg stand in a random basement. It was easy to pretend like things weren’t threatening to crash down around him when he had finally felt like the rebuilding phase was over. It was easy to pretend that things were okay. 

Peter liked pretending. 

After a minute, he tapped a hand against the side of the keg for Felicia to pull the mouthpiece away and Peter lowered himself back to the ground. The remaining crowd around him was excitedly cheering “Parker!” over and over again as he wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. His inability to get drunk paired with his ability to hold his breath much longer than the normal person allowed him to hold a keg stand far longer than the typical 15 seconds that the majority of the usual suspects.

Most of the time, it was Spider-Man that was held in high regard but tonight, in this basement, it was Peter that was revered. 

Peter filled his red solo cup with the keg that wasn’t reserved for keg stands, the giddiness of his stunt still fueling his carefree smile. He wished this feeling could last forever, but reality had a way of breaking through the looking glass. 

“So,” Felicia started, when they settled in the corner after the excitement had died down. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

He tilted his head, fixing her with a puzzled look, “Talk about what?”

“Don’t play dumb,” She scoffed, leaning against the wall, running her finger around the rim of her own cup. It was quiet between them for a moment, the only sound being the chatter of the people around them and 16 by Baby Keem playing in the background. Peter sighed, listing his own shoulder against the same wall and biting his bottom lip. 

Brown eyes met green and he wasn’t sure what she saw but her faux annoyance fell into something more serious, which felt both foreign and familiar from Felicia. “Look,” She said softly, reaching up with her free hand to cup the side of his face. Her touch was feather-light, her thumb just barely tracing the scar along his eye, her eyes following the path.“If you want to do that thing where we both act that you’re okay but you do keg stands and drink all my beer, that’s fine.”

Felicia looked back up at him, “But I can tell you’re thinking about something and it doesn’t take a hotshot genius like you to tell that it’s nothing good.” 

Peter frowned softly. She wasn’t wrong, even when he wasn’t thinking about it , he was. It lingered in the back of his mind and continued to twist in his gut, even as he laughed and drank and partied and smiled. It wasn’t something a simple conversation could fix, no matter who thought it would, and he opened his mouth to tell her as such, but was saved from any sort of explanation by commotion in the middle of the room.

“Hey!” A slurred voice yelled out, loud enough to be audible over the music. “Bro, I don’ care how long you’ve been here-” A grunt sounded and he could make out the impact of hands against fabric. 

He turned away from Felicia, eyebrows furrowed in concern as he scanned the crowd, looking for the culprits. Two guys stood in the middle of the basement, though Peter couldn’t make out their faces as they were blocked by a trio of drunk sophomore boys standing with their backs to him.

“Peter?” Felicia questioned but he was already moving towards them.

“-a fuck that you go here, we all g’ ‘ere. Whooo do you know ‘ere, bro?” It was painfully obvious how drunk the guy was, his words slurring as he confronted the two. 

Luckily, it just so happened that Peter knew one of them. “Yo, Tommy, calm down,” He clapped the nineteen year old on the shoulder, eyeing the other two drunk bros that stood guard on the other side of him. “They’re with me, man.” 

“Ayeee, Parker!” Tommy squealed in delight, forgetting all about his grievances. “Bro, iss sooo good t’ see you. Of c’rse they’re with you, m’ bad guys.” 

Peter snorted as Tommy and his friends walked away, turning his attention to the two in front of him. “Ignore him, this isn’t even his party.” He shrugged, “S’up Harley, I didn’t know you were here, dude.”

The teen in question smiled at him, “Yeah, we’ve only been here like, an hour. No one else seemed to care until we beat ‘em at pong.” 

“But like you said,” The other boy smirked, “Not their party so no harm no foul.”

“No harm no foul.” Peter nodded. 

“What’s this about harm?” Felicia cut in, ducking under Peter’s arm so it settled over her shoulders. “Awe, I didn’t know you made friends, Pete.”

“I didn’t either.” He shrugged, winking at Harley. 

“C’mon, dude, I thought you weren’t gon’ hold a grudge.”

“‘M not, but it is still funny if you think about it.” 

“Ooo, that sounds like a story,” Felicia said, jutting her elbow into Peter’s ribs. “Why don’t you introduce me and then you can fill me in?” 

“Nosy.” Peter sighed, exasperated. “Harley, Felicia. Felicia, Harley. I just met him today, actually.” He nodded towards the other boy standing beside Harley, “I actually don’t think we’ve met. I’m Peter-”

“Parker.” He finished with a laugh, “Yeah, I’ve heard of you. I’m Coop.”

He looked from Harley to Coop and back again, “Oh my god, you guys have talked shit about me, haven’t you?” 

Harley’s face turned bright red before he hurried to defend himself, “Please, like you wouldn’t shit-talk the kid who fucked up the curve for the rest of the class. I had COMS217 with you last semester and you made me regret not taking it freshman year.”

It was Peter’s turn for his ears to burn and he moved to hide his pink face beneath his cup as he drank the rest of his beer. “Your guys’ hands are pretty empty, why don’t we go grab something to drink?” 

“Actually, we were gonna head out to the patio,” Coop pulled something from his pocket, revealing a joint balanced between two fingers. “You guys wanna join us?” 

Felicia and Peter exchanged a look, the two sharing an identical “fuck-it-we-ball” shrug. He pulled his arm back from her shoulders, pulling his phone out to check the time. He hadn’t been planning on staying at the party too much longer. While it wasn’t exactly late, Spider-Man didn’t have Monday nights off and despite all the caffeine he had today, he was fucking exhausted. Still, if he only smoked a little bit, it would be out of his system by the time he was swinging through the city. 

“So, let me get this straight,” Felicia laughed from where she sat with her back to the brick wall surrounding the patio, her knees pulled to her chest and her chin resting on top. “Peter was being his usual brooding, angsty self which made you think that he was gonna cut class the rest of the semester because he was pissed about getting paired up with you for a program that he was handpicked for?” 

Coop’s head peeked up from where he was laying on his back, knees drawn up. Smoke drifted from his mouth as he added, “Don’t forget, he’s the first and only freshman to get picked for this program.” He coughed a little bit, passing the joint over to Harley. “Plus he cut class all last semester and still aced every exam like an asshole.” 

“Yeah, sounds like Peter.” Felicia pursed her lips together with a nod.

“Hey!” Peter yelped indignantly where he was sitting next to Harley, the two opposite of Coop and Felicia with their backs resting against the house wall. “I’m literally right here.” He went ignored, although Harley did hand him the joint when it was his turn. 

“That’s pretty much it, yah,” The brunet snorted, “But I was wrong, obviously. You’re not as much offa douche as we thought you were.” 

He huffed out the smoke, his voice raspy when he spoke, “As much?” 

“I mean, we saw yer keg stand. Show off.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, shoving Harley in the shoulder, “Fuck off.”

“Anyways, we’re cool now. It’s only two classes a week, so it’ll be easy t’ find a way t’ work around his work schedule.” Harley shrugged.

“Oh yeah,” Coop sat up, the joint back in his possession after Felicia’s turn. “Where do you work, dude? Two jobs is insane.” 

“In this economy, two jobs isn’t enough.” Or three, if you really wanted to be technical about it. “I work down at the docks, unloading the cargo ships and stuff. That’s really the main one, the hours are pretty, uh, odd, I guess.” 

“Shit, dude,” Coop’s voice was light and airy, the effect of the marijuana making itself obvious. “What’s the other one?” 

Peter stretched his legs out in front of him, shaking his head when Harley offered him the joint again, “Freelance photography, my boss is kind of a dick. If I don’t get the picture he wants when he wants it, he threatens to cut my pay, but hey whatever pays the bills.”

Felicia snorted, dropping her head back against the wall. 

“I’m gonna be honest with ya,” Harley looked at him with red-rimmed eyes, “I get why you cut class, this sounds like it fuckin’ blows.” 

To Peter’s surprise, a genuine laugh left his mouth, “Like you wouldn’t believe.” 

-

When Peter found himself thinking about MIT, it always seemed to be when he was soaring through the streets of New York City or one of his boroughs. It was always the same thought; he never would have been able to leave New York. 

And it wasn’t thought in a depressing, woe-is-me way, it was thought in a way that was dripping in nostalgia and adoration. Peter loved his city, it was a fact. He didn’t think he could ever part with it. 

It showed in the way he effortlessly swung between the buildings, a rhythm only he knew. It was like muscle memory at this point, something as natural as walking. It especially showed in the way that he interacted with his people, in a way that he would only describe as neighborly.

He had a duty to protect, he had a duty to be New York’s friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man. 

Spider-Man paused, perched on the side of the building. He could faintly make out the sound of glass shattering before a car alarm began blaring only to quickly cut out. Ah, lights, camera, action. 

Following his senses, he found himself on the top floor of a parking garage, standing in a dark corner. Across from him, a group of five guys were split between the only two cars in the lot, very obviously making quick work of breaking into them. In his scientific opinion, he was about 89% sure they were trying to hotwire them, but who knows? Sometimes, he could be wrong. 

Regardless, car theft on a Monday would be fun. 

“Wait a second,” Spider-Man said, catching the attention of the five as he casually strolled up, “You guys don’t look like my Lyft driver.” 

“Fuck, I told you the alarm would bring him here!” One of them, the one kneeling beside the drive seat of the black sedan with the bushy eyebrows, shouted. 

“Yeah, guys, I’m gonna be honest with you,” He put his hands on his hips, leaning more of his weight onto one leg, “This is ranking very low on my car jacking list. I mean, the alarm, the breaking of the glass. C’mon, you guys didn’t even color coordinate.” Another guy looked down at his black crewneck, touching his hand to his chest. “Ha, made you look!” Spider-Man exclaimed, webbing the hand to his shirt and the other hand to the side of the car.

“Get him!” Eyebrows yelled. Two guys charged at him, one with a tire iron in his hand and the other apparently counting on his fists and the power of God. 

It was almost too easy for Spider-Man to duck underneath the swing of the tire iron’s radius and side step the 1-2 combo from the other one. He grabbed the outstretched fist of the second goon, twisting his arm just enough for the force of his hit to turn his body into Tire Iron’s, an oof resounding from the impact. The vigilante flipped over them, webbing the two men together while he was upside down in the air. 

That was three of these losers already and he had only been here for a couple of minutes, this had to be the lamest car robbery he had ever seen.

Eyebrows’ last hope stood at the trunk of the other car, staring at him with fearful eyes and his hands in the air. “Spider-Man, I swear I was just the lookout.” 

“Dude, you have got to get new friends.” Spidey tsked. 

“Y-Yes, Spider-Man, sir.” He nodded frantically. “I don’t even like these guys.” At the jerk of the vigilante’s head, the man turned on his heel and sprinted away. 

“Alright Eyebrows,” His hands were back on his hips as he turned back around, “It’s your tu- and you have a gun.” 

Eyebrows was standing up straight now, pointing a (wimpy) handgun at him with a hard look in his eyes. “I’ll shoot, I swear to God, I’ll shoot.” 

Spider-Man threw his hands up in surrender, “Dude, is that thing loaded? Do you know how dangerous that is? Do you even have a permit for that thing?”

Falling for the act, the man cocked the gun and leveled it with Spider-Man’s head, “You want to find out?” 

He fell to his knees, clasping his hands together, “Please, please don’t shoot me. Go ahead, steal your cars. I don’t know how you’re going to steal two cars by yourself but if you pinky promise not to shoot me with your fragile-masculinity gun, I swear I will let you figure it out.” 

Eyebrows growled, his finger hovering over the trigger, “Do you think this is a joke? I could fucking kill you right now.” 

He couldn’t help the snort that left him, “Dawg, if your little baby gun is how I die then I’ll kill myself.” In a swift movement, he stood back up and grabbed the barrel of the gun, slamming both it and the man;s hand into the car beside them. The man yelped in pain but still tried to throw a sucker punch with his other hand, though Spider-Man easily caught it, twisting both of his arms behind his back and securing his wrists with webs. 

“You guys are seriously the lamest robbers I’ve dealt with in a minute.” He shook his head in disappointment, pulling eyebrows over towards Tire Iron and his friend before going to retrieve Black Crewneck. “I was hoping for more of a fight but instead I got amateur hour. I mean, did you guys even have a plan?” 

“I knew we should have gone for one in a closed garage!”

“Shut the fuck up, Craig.” 

He ignored their arguing as he secured them all with more of his webbing before using his burner to put in a tip to the police. “Alright, you guys sit tight! Be good little grand theft auto cosplayers and wait for the police to get here.” He went as far as to pat Eyebrows on the head before turning on his heel to launch himself off the parking garage. 

Spider-Man landed again a few streets away, lifting his arms to stretch out his limbs as he strolled down the empty street. It was pretty late at this point, by New York City standards. Besides the car thieves and a few petty crimes here and there, it had been a pretty tame night, as Mondays, surprisingly, tended to be. That’s not to say that he only dealt with criminals while he was out, he made an effort to interact with the good people of the city. Whether it was making sure people made it home safely or guiding the homeless to the FEAST shelters, he did his best to connect with everyone. 

That was something he had started to neglect during his quest to prove himself, he had lost sight of what was important. It was never becoming an Avenger, it was taking care of his people. Sam, Bucky, and Rhodey could call him reckless and responsible all they wanted, but when it came down to it, Peter knew that he would do anything to protect what mattered. And he had simultaneously everything and nothing to show for that.

“Missy, you get back here!” A soft, raspy voice called and at the same time, a small white dog was leaping against Peter’s legs. 

“Well, hello there,” He said, squatting down to greet the dog. He looked back up, seeing a small, old woman standing at the bottom of a townhome staircase. 

“Missy, young lady, you come back in this house right now.” The woman demanded, pointing at the open door. 

“I take it your name is Missy.” Peter nodded at the dog, “I’ll bring her over!” He waved at the woman before gathering the dog in his arms.

“Oh, Missy, look at you bothering Spider-Man,” The elderly woman tutted as Peter walked over towards her. “Sorry about her, you open one door and you think she’d’ve lost her damn mind.” 

He chuckled, “It’s really no problem, Miss.” He scratched Missy behind the ears before handing her over. “I don’t mind.” 

“Oh honey, don’t call me Miss, that makes me feel old,” She paused before letting out a joyous laugh, “Well, older than I already am. Call me Nonna.”

“Of course Nonna,” He nodded, “Like I was saying, I think Missy just likes Spiders.” Said dog was licking his gloved hand, as if trying to prove his point. 

“Missy likes anything with two legs and is outside of that house.” Nonna deadpanned. “But maybe she likes you a little more than the rest. You are such a kind boy.” 

Peter laughed softly, “With all due respect, ma’am, I’m not a kid.” 

Instead of getting annoyed by his words, she just shook her head with a fond look in her eyes, “Honey, I still call my son my little baby boy and he’s forty-two. And I’d be willing to bet good money that you’re even more fresh-faced than that underneath that mask of yours, don’t need to be a child to be someone’s kid.” Nonna grasped his forearm, “You come back another time, hon, and I’ll give you some of my favorite chocolate baklava from the store.”

He smiled, despite the fact that she couldn’t see it, “I will.” 

“You better,” She winked, stepping fully into her townhome, “If you know what’s good for you.” Peter made sure he heard her door fully lock before he turned back into the street, the interaction leaving him feeling warm. He would have to make it a point to stop by, if not for the chocolate baklava, to see Missy and Nonna again. 

He stood in the middle of the street, throwing out his wrist to pull himself back up into the air. He launched himself up, flipping through the air before settling into a free fall and cycling through the pattern again. The sound of wind rushing against his ears came as a comfort while he swung and Peter felt one with the sky. 

Everything felt right, until it didn’t.

With no warning at all, Spider-Man was hit with the most overwhelming sense of dread, the twitch at the back of his neck so violent he almost crashed into the side of a building. He hung onto the side of the building with one hand and foot, his head jerking around in alarm. His spider-sense was blaring in a way that could be described as physically painful with how bad his ears rang. 

The city's sounds seemed to warp and distort, the usual cacophony replaced by an unnerving silence that pressed in on him, the air that was once only light and cold suddenly thick and heavy. As quickly as the feeling overwhelmed him, that’s how fast it left him and Spider-Man could only thank his superhuman instincts for how he ducked his head just in time for something to slam hard enough into the wall that the brick splintered upon impact. 

Spider-Man didn’t take the time to stop and stare at whomever his assailant was, his spider-sense screamed at him to run and he wasn’t stupid enough to make the same mistake twice. He pushed off the wall and took off.

His pursuer, however, was relentless. Spider-Man was fast, inhumanly so, but it felt as though it didn’t matter which corner he took or how high he swung. He kept getting found.

Every time he felt like he put distance between him and the assailant, his sixth sense would become dizzying once more, distorting his hearing and sending a chill down his spine. Whoever was chasing him obviously knew what they were doing, as they moved with a chilling efficiency, each step placed with deadly intent. 

His heart was racing as he moved. The assailant, a guy as far as Peter could tell, had come out of nowhere. He had been deadly silent up until Spider-Man’s sixth sense had screamed at him, no warning of his presence leading up to that. Panic was beginning to claw up his throat, he needed a game plan, but it was hard to think when he was busy evading. 

The chase descended into the city's underbelly, a maze of narrow alleyways and shadowed corners and Peter realized his mistake. In this environment, his pursuer seemed to thrive, emerging in and out of the gloom like a phantom and Peter noted how their suit blended seamlessly with the darkness. Okay, he reasoned, running wasn’t working. 

Sonic blasts tore through the air, causing Spider-Man to weave and dodge, making him aware of the suit that was humming with pure power. His back slammed into a wall and he ducked down, rolling out of the way as a clawed gauntlet slashed at him, narrowly missing his face, the metal glinting menacingly in the moonlight.

Metal with a very familiar wing symbol carved into it. 

Rage burned through his chest, replacing the panic and Peter swung. His fist connected with the armored chest of the assailant’s suit, sending him backwards but to his surprise, the same sonic blast that had shot through the gauntlet blew through the boots of the suit and the man launched himself directly at Peter. 

He landed hard on his back, the pain in his shoulder almost as painful as his spider-sense. He dodged the next metal fist that swung his way, wrapping his legs around the attacker’s waist to flip him off over him so Spider-Man could roll to the side. Ignoring the pain in his side, he webbed Metal Gauntlet’s legs, trying to slow him down only for the gauntlet’s blasts to effortlessly shoot through them. 

“Well fuck you too, dude.” 

Peter attacked with a ferocity that surprised even himself, his punches faster, his movements far more brutal. He used his environment, smashing Metal Gauntlet through a crumbling wall and kicking him into a stack of wooden crates. Metal Gauntlet was undeterred, however, shaking off each blow and responding with equally brutal force. 

He hissed as the claws of his glove grazed his side, drawing blood. The vigilante grabbed the wrist of the gauntlet, the metal cold even through his suit. Then, in an act of desperation and survival, he put more than what he usually would into a single, devastating blow. He slammed the gauntlet into the adjacent wall, the impact splintering the metal and sparks flying as the sonic energy went haywire before the suit went quiet and the force of his hit sent the man back, hitting the wall with a hard thud. 

Peter’s chest heaved as the man’s body slumped, the only sounds being his own ragged breaths and the heartbeat of his attacker, confirming that he was only unconscious and not dead. 

He took a moment to collect himself before he webbed each of the man’s limbs down individually, taking extra care to make sure that gauntlet and the boots were secure and completely drained of power. He considered removing the man’s helmet, but upon inspection, he discovered a failsafe that prevented manual removal and he was a little too freaked out to think about using brute strength to do the job. He just wanted to go home. 

After a call to the police, Spider-Man fled the scene. It was a blur, getting back to his apartment. He was only really aware that he had done so when he collapsed through his window, his heart still racing impossibly fast. 

This was the third time in less than a week that some freak had been after him, four if he wanted to count the bots. But this was cutting it close.

Peter was beginning to see a sickening pattern. When he thought back to the chase and subsequent fight between him and the man with the metal gauntlet, his attacked had had multiple opportunities to take him down.

It was obvious that he was trained, with the way he moved with the agility and stealthiness that Peter had seen in people like Natasha Romanoff and Yelena Belova. The man had to be some sort of assassin, but despite having the skill and opportunity to kill him, he hadn’t.

No, no, no. Instead, he was hunting Peter.

Dying was starting to seem like the least of his problems.