Peter limped down the darkened street, away from the destruction. Away from Oscorp. Away from Gwen.
Peter’s life had never been normal, yet since the spider bite, it seemed to progressively get worse. Sure, his new powers had initially been exciting and fun. But being able to climb walls hadn’t saved his uncle. Peter couldn’t save Dr. Connors from becoming a monster. Spider-Man failed to save Captain Stacey. How long before he failed Gwen or Aunt May too? How long before his entire life came crumbling down around him and he only had himself to blame?
He couldn’t allow himself to think of those things right then. He needed to get away. He needed just some small semblance of normalcy. He needed -
Eggs.
He dragged his battered body toward the store, shouldering his backpack, and the bloody suit crumpled inside. A shaking hand was just reaching for the door when another landed on his shoulder. Peter spun around, ignoring his screaming limb, and threw his hands up, prepared to land the first punch.
His supposed attacker turned out to be an unassuming looking short man in a suit far too tailored to be from this neighborhood.
“Mr. Parker?”
“Who’s asking?” Peter stiffened, eyes roaming over the top of the stranger’s head.
“My name is Agent Coulson -”
“Agent?” Peter swallowed.
“I’m not here to harm you, Peter,” the man smiled softly. “I just think we need to talk.”
“Talk? About what?” Peter regarded him suspiciously, subtly leaning backward, away from the man.
“About tonight’s events. About your leg. About Spider-Man.”
Peter felt his blood burn an icy cold. His eyes darted again behind the agent and into the store. Surely this man was not alone.
“Spider-Man? What about him? I mean - I don’t really know much -”
“You’re going to need to become a better liar if you come work for us,” the agent smirked. “We’ve had our eyes on Spider-Man ever since his work starting hitting the media. We narrowed down the list of possible identities. Would you like to guess who was on that list?”
Peter’s response wasn’t exactly verbal. The boy outstretched one of his arms before being promptly reminded that his web shooters had been destroyed. With only a moment’s hesitation, Peter flipped up into the air, clinging to the store’s brick wall and scaling it as fast as his broken body would allow.
The agent almost lazily retrieved his cell phone from his coat pocket, watching the ascending teenager as he brought the device to his ear. SHIELD had a certain way of handling heroes, especially the super kind. But this Spider-Man was merely a boy. Even Coulson had his qualms with bringing in someone so young. And yet, it was obvious by the evidence of the bullet wound that the young vigilante needed help. And Coulson knew exactly who to call.
Peter crawled and jumped as far down the street as he could manage. The adrenaline from the battle had long since fallen away and all that was left was exhaustion and pain. The panic at the meeting with the mysterious stranger had granted him a boost, but now he was fading fast. Peter turned the corner and leapt for a passing truck that was heading toward his neighborhood.
Home.
Aunt May.
If the agent had known about him, then what about his family? He had to get to her. Make sure she was safe. Make sure -
Eggs.
Peter couldn’t go home without the eggs. Not again.
The disruption in his thoughts was just enough to have him miss his landing on the semi. He rolled down, scrambling and reaching for purchase on the moving metal container. His hand plastered itself against the truck’s side, but the rest of his body was still swinging loosely into traffic. His feet ran over the top of a cab and then a van. He was just reaching his second hand toward the semi when a car cut out from behind the truck, speeding past it, and right into Peter’s flailing legs. The force was enough to break Peter’s hand free and his entire body tumbled over the hood of the car and then onto the sidewalk. He could feel eyes on him and someone was screaming for help. With a heavy arm, Peter felt for his face, and the mask that wasn’t there. Keeping his head down, Peter was struggling to think of a way out of this mess when steady hands gripped underneath his shoulders. Peter’s instinct was to fight, but the stranger’s hold was impossibly strong.
“Hey, son. Calm down. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. Let’s get you out of here before someone sees your face, huh?”
Peter didn’t trust the new voice, but his body could do little save comply. He was led, or well, more accurately, carried, to a nearby alleyway. Peter vaguely wondered why no one was questioning a man hauling a boy into the shadows.
Peter wasn’t left wondering for long. As the stranger gingerly leaned the teenager against the wall on the ground, Peter blinked up at someone he had only ever seen on television and trading cards.
“You - you’re - holy -” Peter shook his head. “Do you know who you are? I mean, of course you know who you are. You’re you. I - I am - a big - you know - fan. Wait, I’m not hallucinating, am I? Blood loss - or - concussion? Maybe I’m talking to a wall right now or some homeless -”
“You’re not hallucinating,” the superhero smiled.
“Holy - mother - wait, is the guy in the suit after you too?”
“Who, Coulson?” The man looked confused and then amused.
“You know him? What? He knows me. I mean, not me. I mean - he knows - something -”
“He knows that you’re Spider-Man,” Captain America said cooly.
“Wh - what? That - That’s crazy. He’s - obviously - crazy.”
“Phil is a good guy,” Steve sighed. “No one is going to hurt you.”
“That’s what everyone says right before they kidnap you and do - you know - experiment stuff - and -”
“Peter, calm down.”
“Calm down? I’m great. I’m calm. I am so calm. I’m talking to Captain America and some secret agent found me at - at a store! Oh - mother hubbard! Crap! Store! Eggs!”
Without any warning, Peter pushed himself up, yelping at the sudden pressure on his injured leg.
“Whoa, hey, hang on, son -”
“Let go of me!” Peter whirled on the man. “Just - just - stay away.” And then Peter was laughing - no - giggling. “I just told Captain freaking America what to do.” His laughter died and his eyes and face fell. “Don’t - don’t call me son. You’re not my father. You’re not - he - he called me son. Now - now he’s dead. Everyone’s dead.”
Peter’s gaze was distant and Steve was starting to speak when the boy backed away.
“I - I have to go,” Peter mumbled.
“Peter, wait. Let us help you.”
“Help? Help - me? Where were you tonight? You didn’t help me! The person who did - he’s dead! It’s - my fault. Where were you?”
“We got there too late. Peter, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? He’s dead. And now - now - I’m late. You made me late.”
“Peter, stop -”
‘No! She’s waiting for me. She - She always waits for me. And - and I - we needed eggs. I forgot -”
“Peter, it’s okay.”
“No,” Peter swallowed thickly, momentarily calming. “it’s not.”
When Peter limped away, Steve didn’t try to stop him. The boy was clearly suffering and in shock. He didn’t need strangers. He needed his family. That didn’t stop the soldier from following the boy home. Or from showing up on his doorstep a week later. Or the next month.
It was six months later when Tony Stark extended an invitation for one Peter Parker to take part in an internship for Stark Enterprises. A month after that saw Hawkeye and Black Widow giving the kid hand-to-hand training. Two weeks later, Bruce, Tony and Peter were practically finishing each other’s sentences in the labs. He even met Thor on one of the god’s visits. None of the Avengers were particularly fond of a teenager risking his life, but they didn’t take away his suit. Well, Tony did, once, and only for a short time to do some surprise upgrades. Steve had the hardest time accepting the kid’s night job, but was also the one on the team who could most closely understand it.
Peter wasn’t set to officially join the Avengers until after graduation. It had been the Captain’s one condition. The others were inclined to agree. Even if he wasn’t fighting alongside them, Peter still had become an almost permanent fixture at the Avengers Tower. When he wasn’t at school, home, or with Gwen, he would skate - or swing - by daily. Gwen knew the truth, of course, and pestered him about meeting the heroes. Aunt May merely told him not to work so hard with that knowing glint in her eyes.
Then Electro had hit Times Square. Peter had been alone, but somehow came out victorious.
Peter had been bugging Steve since graduation about official admittance onto the team. After that fight, he was finally granted it.
The joy didn’t last long.
Electro broke free and the Avengers were summoned with the entire team this time. The battle was over almost too quickly. He hadn’t even heard the laughter yet before his spider sense was screaming. His eyes had frantically searched the streets and sky. Then before he could finish telling Gwen to run, Harry had her in the air. He cried out for her and in the same breath called for his friends. The goblin was heading toward the Brooklyn Bridge and Spider-Man couldn’t keep up. Harry had promised to steal Peter’s hope, and the hero already felt it slipping away with each swing. He landed on a beam, just in time to see Gwen’s body flung carelessly over the side. Peter reached out with his webs just as Iron Man swooped underneath her tumbling body. Seeing her safe, Peter quickly turned his attention back to his former friend, who was nowhere in the sky.
The Avengers searched for the boy through the night, but abandoned the mission when it became clear that Harry had pulled a Houdini. “They’d find him,” Cap had promised Peter after the dust had settled. “They’d help him.” And they would. Because he wasn’t alone anymore. Because a team of superheroes had spent a several months not-so-secretly stalking him just so that he wouldn’t give up on himself, on hope.
And yeah, maybe in the meantime Peter would volunteer to do any and all of Tony’s grunt work in the lab. It’s not like there was a gift basket for the guy who saved your girlfriend.