Jumper

Peter stared out across the skyline, his eyes at half mast. The wind idly tugged against his shirt and ruffled his hair as he admired the all encompassing view of the city. His home. 

“Kid-”

Peter nearly jumped out of his skin, his foot scuffing forward a bit and his head snapping his head to the side to look at whoever had managed to creep up on him without his notice.

It was a guy- dirty blond hair, sky blue eyes, and a nose that looked like it’d been broken one too many times. He was standing a couple of meters away, one hand extended placatingly as he inched forwards slightly.

Peter slowly let his shoulders untense from where they'd hiked up to his ears, blinking wide-eyed at the stranger. He wasn't setting off Peter's senses, so he probably didn't have any bad intentions for the callout, but how he’d gotten this close without Peter having heard him was another matter entirely.

Belatedly, Peter realized that maybe the guy was waiting for a response, so he cautiously replied, “Yes…?” as he unconsciously moved a hair backwards.

The man seemed to have to physically stop himself from jolting forwards, his lax arm snapping up to join his other so that both of his palms were out and facing Peter. His entire posture radiated a forced sort of stillness.

“I just wanna talk for a sec,” the blonde said calmly, and Peter couldn't help the small downward tick of his brows, his head tilting. There was this underlying edge to the guy's voice that Peter just couldn’t place.

“...Alright?” he hesitantly agreed, tone still more questioning than anything as he shifted to fully face the other.

The man seemed to relax slightly at the motion, his arms lowering a fraction. His expression, which hadn't changed much since Peter first spotted him, seemed welcoming, if somewhat projected. “How ‘bout you step down from there, yeah?” the guy suggested lightly.

Peter’s brows furrowed, his head turning to the side, which coincidentally meant he was faced with the view over the roof’s edge to the ground a good couple dozen stories below. A sudden gust of wind buffeted his hair, and his curls ruffled over his eyes just in time to hide the way they went wide in realization. He floundered abruptly and jerkily sprang off the lip of the roof and back onto more stable ground. “I-I wasn’t-” he stuttered, then cut himself off, gesturing helplessly with his hands.

The blonde's eyes narrowed. “You weren’t…” he prompted, taking another step closer.

Peter waved his arms around again, pinwheeling, almost, trying to figure out a good way to word it. Saying that he wasn’t trying to off himself seemed a little too blunt. “I-I wasn’t gonna, uh, jump,” he decided on lamely, hooking a thumb back over his shoulder.

The man took a moment to consider him. “I’m not judging you,” he offered entreatingly.

Peter flushed. “I-I - that’s not-” he stuttered, failing miserably at coming up with anything he could reasonably say. It’s not like he could just come out with, ‘well, I have sticky feet and a crazy sense of balance, so I was fine standing on the edge cause I knew I wouldn’t fall,’ or, ‘I actually was planning on jumping but I was gonna go to the next roof over even though there's more than a ten foot wide gap that no normal human can make,’ or just a plain and simple, ‘I’m Spider-Man.’

Nope. 

So instead, like the complete and utter idiot that he could very clearly recognize he was, Peter - stumbling over his words as per usual (worse so since what he was saying was more or less technically a lie) - said, “I- um. Th-thank you for uhhhhh... stopping me. Yeah. I, uh, totally won’t try that again.”

Like an idiot.

God, he wanted to take it back straight away and just yeet himself off the roof.

The man’s stare intensified, and Peter shifted uncomfortably as the seconds ticked by in a stiff, tense ratcheting sort of silence.

“You mind if I walk you down?” the other finally asked, and Peter shook his head resignedly, the guy coming up to his side and putting himself between Peter and the roof as the two made their way to the stairwell access.

This is fine, Peter told himself, their footsteps ringing out as they began their descent. 

And then he barely stopped himself from snapping his head to the left when he heard a comm crackle to life in the man’s ear.

‘Clint? Status,’ a female voice ordered.

Peter let his gaze flicker to the side, taking in how the man’s lips pursed and his arm subtly went up to his ear, a faint click cutting off further sound, while his other hand reached into his pocket to pull out a sleek StarkPhone that he turned on and typed a quick message across.

Not suspicious at all.

Nope.

Just a not suicidal but enhanced teen and a nice but probably spy man.

Perfectly normal, as all things should be.