In Which Peter Parker (Tries) to Act Tough
Peter Parker had seen a lot of shit in his short life. His parents were dead, he’d had a couple buildings dropped on him, and he’d survived public middle school. But this… this was worse.
Boredom. He hadn’t seen any of the Avengers in the year since Tony’s funeral. And he loved that special, warm feeling he got when he was with the group of heroes, fighting crime and stopping bad guys together. He loved being Spider-Man.
He’d taken to swinging by Mr. Wilson’s Queens apartment while on nightly patrol, and tonight was no different. He’d stopped to prevent a baby from falling out of it’s stroller, rescued a cat who climbed a fire escape, and stopped a mugging - overall, a good night. Now he perched on a rooftop eating a burrito, with the bottom of his mask rolled up, looking out at Sam’s street.
It was a quiet little side street lined with small brownstones. There was an alleyway with dumpsters and fire escapes behind the row of houses, and small patches of grass in the front, bordered by iron fences and metal gates.
Peter studied the pedestrians, looking for any familiar faces; Sam, Bucky, anyone, really. But, per usual, no one showed. Peter was about to finish his burrito and leave when something - someone - caught his eye.
It was a person, clothed in a black hoodie and pants. The person was leaning nonchalantly against a house opposite Sam’s. Their gaze seemed to be directed at the house, looking and scanning the area. As if this wasn’t enough cause for suspicion, the person nimbly crossed the street and disappeared into the alley behind Sam’s house. Peter cautiously swung across the rooftops until he had made his way to a house which overlooked the alley.
To Peter’s shock (and, frankly, excitement), the person began fiddling with the lock on Sam’s back door.
He leapt down from the rooftop and tackled the person before they could get the door open. The person unleashed a series of violent and powerful punches, swinging and rolling aside, and left a pattern of developing bruises on Peter’s torso. He shot webs after the person, managing to web down their foot even as they dodged the other webbings. He ran full force at the person.
“Stop struggling! Dude, you’re only gonna get hurt more!” Peter’s words were met with another punch to the jaw. It hurt like hell. This person’s strength was oddly enhanced.
Superhuman.
Peter ducked the untrained, flying fists and tucked himself into a roll. He spun around behind the person, who barely had time to register his movements, and Spider-Man delivered a sharp blow to the back of their head. The bad guy crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Peter wasn’t entirely sure what to do now. He had to figure out who this stranger is. There was an abandoned warehouse that Peter knew of, always empty and perfect for the shenanigans of a teenage superhero. He easily was able to carry the small person to the empty building, and once inside, he made sure to web the person’s arms and legs to the wall so that they wouldn’t punch him in the jaw again. Jeez, that one was gonna leave a mark!... The intruder still wore a ski mask under their hood, and Peter pulled it off to reveal-
-a kid. Like him. Scrawny, with blood trickling from her nose, and from the hairline of her short, dark hair.
Maggie’s eyes snapped open, fluttered, and then closed again as her head pounded. Her arms and legs wouldn’t move for some reason. “Fuuuuuck…” she grunted, and began to struggle.
Suddenly, a face with large and terrifyingly-white eyes looked over Maggie. The creature whom the face was attached to had a slender body, almost insect-like. The most terrifying part was that the creature, whose skin was vibrantly red and blue, seemed to be hanging comfortably from the ceiling.
Maggie screeched.
“Oh! Shit! Sorry!” The creature did a neat flip and stood up straight in order to properly meet Maggie’s eyeline as she struggled at the sticky bonds which held her firmly in place. “I apologize for not introducing myself,” quipped the creature. “I’m Spider-Man.” He said it with a sarcastic and exaggerated sneer.
“Listen here, fuckwad. You need to let me go, right now. I have some very powerful friends, and, um, they’re probably looking for me.”
“Hey. Don’t call me fuckwad.”
“What, does it hurt your feelings?” retorted Maggie viciously. The creature didn’t reply, just chuckled and leaned against the wall next to her.
“I need to ask you some questions, kid.”
“Don’t call me “kid”, you dumb...alien.” Maggie was running out of creative insults.
The creature straightened a little, slowly now, and for a second Maggie was worried that he would hit her. But the creature pulled at the skin of its scalp to reveal a human face. It wasn’t skin, it was red and blue Spandex.
He had grown-out, curly brown hair and a slightly babyish face. With surprise, Maggie realized he couldn’t have been much older than she was. He had a strange look in his eyes. Distrust, mixed with a measure of misunderstanding. He was looking at her as if he expected her to do a cartwheel.
“So- so you’re human. Not an alien.”
“Yup. I can see how the suit might be misleading.”
“Totally.”
“Anyways,” the kid raised his eyebrows and clapped his hands together in an authoritative manner. “We have some questions to figure out. Uh- to answer.”
“Yes,” Maggie said, false sympathy dripping from her voice. This poor kid could barely figure out how to properly interrogate somebody.
“Okay. Who do you work for?”
Maggie was instantly on edge. She and Sam had discussed the importance of keeping their mission and everything a secret, especially now that there was the added threat of spies. Bucky had simply reminded her that “loose lips sink ships” (Maggie took this to mean that ships were missions, and sinking them was a metaphor for utter failure). Maggie tilted her head back so that it rested lightly against the wall and braced herself as she said, “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you.”
The kid looked unsure of himself for a moment before saying, “Can you at least tell me your name?”
Maggie imagined if Bucky were here. She imagined what he would say to do, and she knew that he wouldn’t want her to give anything. An interrogator only needs the slightest bit of a handhold in order to pull more information from the person they are interrogating. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Okay. Look. I really- like, REALLY don’t wanna hurt you. I’ll tell you my name, and you tell me yours. Deal?” He looked at her hopefully.
Maggie thought for only a moment before saying, “Deal. But first names only.”
The other kid grunted. He didn’t seem used to compromising, but he stuck out a hand to shake anyway. “Peter. My name’s Peter.” He waited for her reply.
Maggie looked exaggeratedly down at her tied-down hands, and then back at him. “Dude - seriously?”
“Right. Sorry, haha.” His hand fell back to his side. “Now what’s your name?”
“Maggie.”
“Maggie. Hmm.” Peter hummed as he glanced around the large space and tugged a chair forward, swinging it around backwards and plopping down so that he could rest his elbows on the back. “Maggie. Can you please tell me what you were doing snooping around that house?”
Maggie thought it best not to lie. “No, Peter, I told you that I can’t.”
Peter stiffened slightly, his expression changing from exasperation to worry. “Fine,” he said, bracing his chest. “I’m- I’m gonna have to punch it out of you then.”
Maggie’s heart skipped a beat. She’d survived worse, obviously, but that didn’t mean that this would be any more pleasant. Meanwhile, Peter looked horribly nervous as he flexed his fingers. She took silent pleasure in his discomfort.
Peter cocked back one fist nervously. Maggie resisted the urge to coach him through the punch, barely restraining herself. Peter’s fist connected with Maggie’s jaw, and she let out a sharp grunt, and then a laugh because Peter looked to be on the verge of tears.
“Sorry! God, no, what?- um, tell me what you were doing in that house!” Peter cried it indignantly. Maggie didn’t reply. She simply laughed again and tucked her chin against her collarbone.
Peter wound up again. “At least tell me how an enhanced person like you has managed to fly under my radar in New York. Please, Maggie. I hate this.”
“Fine!” Maggie tracked his fist with her eyes as it dropped gratefully at his side. “I just got here. Flew in with some friends from Kansas.” Shit. Did that give anything away? Maggie hoped not, because if this wacko worked for the Power Broker, it would all be over.
“Kansas? Good. Okay. Now please, Maggie, please tell me who you work for, or at least why you were in that house?”
Maggie swallowed the lump in her throat. No harm in the truth. “I was checking the security of the place,” she said, a flush rising in her face as she realized what she was saying.
“I know you’re lying, Maggie,” sighed Peter warningly. With a squeak of nausea, he punched her in the gut. This time tears welled up in the eyes of both teens.
Maggie spat blood. Saliva and blood congealed on her chin, sticky and unpleasant. “Fucking dickhead, I was telling the truth!”
Peter gaped at her for a moment, just staring at her. He noticed the tear tracks on her face, the blood dripping from her lip, her fists still balled with tension as she struggled against the webbing. He sat down hard in the chair as another tear slid down his face. She wasn’t lying. She wasn’t lying. And he just beat the shit out of her for no reason.
Maggie was furious. She wasn’t crying, just blindly angry. Frustrated. “I was jus’ trying to help my friends,” she whispered. “Jus’ wanted to do somethin’ nice for Sam.”
Peter’s eyes widened again. “You know Sam?”
“Yeah. Do you?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I’m Spider-Man,” he hissed incredulously.
“Oh? Ohh. Fuck, dude, I thought you were joking about that.” Maggie laughed quietly.
Peter laughed too. “Do you know Bucky?”
“Yeah. We’re...family friends.”
“How did that happen?”
“Long story. We only met a couple years ago before the Blip.” She stared at Peter. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“‘Cuz I felt so bad about punching you that I cried,” he said with a dry smile.
“Okay.” Maggie took a deep breath. “Bucky and Sam should be back by now. They’re probably worried. What time is it?”
“Eleven.”
“Shit, I was out that long?” Before Peter could reply, she continued. “De-web me or whatever and we can go ring the doorbell and Sam n’ Buck can tell you that you can trust me.”
And so Peter melted away the webs. Maggie was weak from the ordeal, and required Peter to support her by holding one of her arms around his shoulder. Once they got to the door, however, Maggie’s eyes fluttered shut and Peter had to pick her up and practically carry her the rest of the way. She was bleeding all over his suit, but Peter didn’t care. It was the least he could do. He really felt awful about the whole thing.
Several minutes later, they arrived at Sam’s doorstep. Peter frantically rang the bell, still supporting an unconscious Maggie in his other arm. A very tired Bucky Barnes answered the door after a few minutes, sporting a case of bed head and yawning.
“What. The. Fuck. Do you want right now, spiderboy?”