the kids aren't alright
It's only just past dark and Peter wants to go home already. Novembers in New York City are absolutely brutal, with insufferable wind chill and not even a hint of snow to play in to make up for the horrid temperatures. He remembers reading an article somewhere that spiders aren't capable of thermo-regulating, and sincerely hopes that his body isn't actually becoming cold blooded like an actual arachnid.
God, he thinks that sounds insanely cool, but in the weird, dark, mystic way. Except Peter enjoys being warm blooded, so maybe he'll pass on the idea of being cold blooded, no matter how hard core it seems to a sixteen year old boy.
He never used to have to go out (especially during the winters) as much as he does now. But after the whole Vulture fiasco last month? He practically became an international celebrity. Stories about The Friendly Neighborhood Spider Man featured on global news channels, his official Spidey.Spiders instagram account gained five million followers overnight (where he updated all the images to better befit someone more popular by paying an extra two dollars for a cool background setting), and Aunt May forced him to learn how to sew. Now his Spider Suit is properly clean cut and more than professional looking. Instead of his former cheap red and blue hoodie and tights, he put in the extra effort to buy expensive spandex and carbon fibers for a more camera ready appearance. And with all the new fame, it seems as though more criminals decided to pop up to challenge his place as defender of his borough. Lately, there's been an influx of strange reptilian monsters roaming the streets of Queens at night, so Peter is forced to split his responsibility cleaning up the mostly useless, gross lizard mutations attacking parked cars and the occasional small child, and doing his usual rounds around the city of protecting the citizens from attempted rapists, muggers, and more.
He feels practically like an adult already, managing his time doing Spider Man business so well. Then again, he had been forced to adapt to be more mature and responsible for himself after Aunt May was sent upstate for intense in-care medical treatments for her late stage lung cancer (not fair! she doesn't even smoke!). Her insurance worked out in the end, and all her savings instead went to Peter to pay rent on his own and manage their small two bedroom apartment while she remains in recovery. Of course, as a minor, he couldn't be left by his lonesome, so Aunt May's second cousin came in from Connecticut to stay with him.
Except Peter hasn't seen hide nor hair of this proclaimed "second cousin," but he's been doing a mighty fine job of defending for himself, he thinks.
The temperatures drop even more by the time it's midnight, where he's already stopped a mini rampage of oddly mutilated lizard creations crawling out the sewers (he makes a mental note to check whatever the hell is happening down in the sewers in the future) and stopped a dozen people from being mugged. He's about to head back home, as Queens is mostly asleep by this time, but something prickles at his Spidey Senses.
He stops, stares down at the alleyway a couple blocks down that he cannot see, and listens.
Peter hears... no doesn't hear, he senses two foreign objects appear out of thin air. Nothing's ever been more clear than the two foreign bodies' pinpoint locations, and Peter runs. He takes great, powerful strides over buildings, slings his webs to catapult him through the air, and he jumps delicately into his perfected Super Hero™ landing in front of the powers drawing him near.
They are two teenagers - a girl and a boy. The girl has bleached blonde hair worn asymmetrically and is equipped with a skintight white and black suit. The boy is of darker skin and wearing a black suit.
Spider Man suits.
Peter stumbles. "Holy moly," he says instead of cursing, because these teens might be younger than him. "Who the frickity frick frack are you guys?!"
The boy vibrates in his spot, waving his hands around, at which Peter notices is clutching a black Spider Man mask. What the hell? "Peter! Oh my god! Do you know where we are?"
He's got a typical Brooklyn accent, much thicker than what Peter's used to hearing, but he can understand it. Mostly.
The sixteen year old backs up the slightest. He readies his stance. "Queens? And I'm sorry, how do you know me?"
Normally, anyone knowing his real identity under the mask sends alarm bells ringing, but these kids looked so relieved to see him, he can wave aside the strangeness of everything else.
"It's... uh, me? Miles? Miles Morales? Remember that whole alternate dimension crap literally five minutes ago?" The teen, the newly dubbed Miles, says.
Thankfully, Peter doesn't have to answer whatever the heck Miles is going on about because the other teenager pretty much answers for him.
"We're the other Spider Men from alternate Earths," she says, a scowl worn expertly on her face. "Something messed up in the algorithms when I was trying to get back to my own world, Miles tried re-configuring the data, and then got us both sucked up into what I'm assuming is your world - the Peter B. Parker planet. You should remember us, unless we're in a different Spider Man's New York. Again."
A pause, and then: "I'm Gwen Stacy, by the way. This idiot is Miles Morales."
"Hey!"
Peter, the real Spider Man, thank you very much, takes a hot minute to digest everything that has happened in the past two minutes. He inhales, exhales, then decides. "Okay. Ummm... What do you want me to do, other-Mes?"
Gwen takes a step forward and Peter is very much regretting his decision to help them. God, she is terrifying. "Take us to your place and we'll decide from there. We should probably get out of public areas - trust me, we know how the city's going to react if it sees a few extra of us running around."
He's not too sure how he feels about the whole "alternate version selves" shmuck, but something inside him, something inside the Spider him, knows to instinctively trust these two teens. Unlike Daredevil, he can't tell if people are lying based on their heartbeat (which he can sorta hear the actual heartbeat, if he concentrates super hard and the tested person is within a twenty meter range), but it's not like he can just drag two possibly other-Hims to Hell's Kitchen and hope that the devil costumed merc is on call tonight.
So, Peter decides to trust his gut instincts and leads the duo away to his and Aunt May's apartment.
The journey home is incredibly awkward. Gwen and Miles are whispering away some kid of programming formula that might place them back to their home Earths, even though whispering is moot when Peter has super hearing. Or maybe they aren't whispering to prevent him from hearing them, but to not be accidentally overheard by anyone in the alleyways below them.
They all crawl through his open bedroom window (he thinks it's really weird to see other people also do the sticky spider climbing), and deposit around his somewhat messy, Star Wars lego set filled quarters.
Peter rips off his mask after closing the window and shutting the binds tight. He turns around to face the Gwen and Miles, who appear extremely alarmed.
"What?" He asks defensively, wondering if he's suddenly developed a huge shiny zit on his face. He plops down on his bed, wincing when the lumpy mattress creaks.
Gwen answers for them all. "You're definitely not Peter B. Parker. Ah, shit, I'm in a whole 'nother dimension. For the second time!"
"Three time's the charm?" He says, still extremely confused at their current predicament.
She sighs and Miles tentatively pats her shoulder. "Yeah, whatever. Does Aunt May have any old clothes she can lend out?"
Peter's about to ask how she knows about Aunt May, realizes that they probably know more about his life than he does himself, then wearily agrees. "She's out of town right now, so I don't think she'd mind if you borrowed something from her closet..."
And the girl is gone, expertly leaping off the ceiling (Peter finds it slightly weird how skilled she is at being sticky) and to explore his tiny apartment.
Miles, back stuck to the upper wall next to the window, shares a look with Peter. "We're about the same size, right?"
And he sighs, begrudging himself to rolling off the bed and wandering to his closet to fish out comfortable clothes for the both of them. He doesn't understand why his life has become so strange in less than half an hour, but he supposes its not bad. Maybe after he's ordered some pizzas he'll drill his alternate selves more about his own spidey powers that he still doesn't know everything about, even after having them for almost two years now.
Peter wakes to the smell of eggs and bacon.
For a brief moment, everything's back to normal again, with Aunt May hurriedly flipping through recipe books to make sure she's not burning something simple as breakfast and Peter trying to savor that last bits of warmth under his covers before being forced to wake up for school.
School. Fuck.
He jumps out of bed, accidentally going too far and landing flat on the ceiling. He quickly detaches himself in fear that Aunt May will barge into his bedroom because she doesn't know how to knock - ! And then remembers that Aunt May discovered his secret last month, right after that whole Vulture fiasco.
And then he remembers that he's currently fostering two other spider people in his home and one of the sleeping bags is empty. Another bout of panic kicks in before he finally comes to his senses and realizes that he can hear Miles humming in the kitchen and adding salt and basil to the eggs. Fuck, he had a long night.
Gwen Stacy is still fast asleep, curled up on the ceiling with a blanket of webbing (Peter is very confused, but doesn't ask), so he steps as quietly as possible out his room and to the kitchen.
"Mornin', Peter," the Brooklyn boy greets, turning off the stove top. Last night, the three spiderlings stayed up late and talked all about their similar (ish) back stories, powers, and current world events. Namely, how the Avengers don't really exist in Gwen and Miles' worlds. They've heard of the famous Tony Stark and something about the Russian mafia, but there was no Battle of New York against alien invaders back in 2012. Peter had been shocked to hear that, and he quickly filled them in everything about his own Earth timeline. Yes, call him obsessed with superheros, but he once ran into Captain America while on the job, and meets up with Daredevil (vigilante, same thing) about once a month to investigate Midtown for some kind of gang spying business. Daredevil doesn't tell him much other than needing Peter's webs for successful captures because no one yet has been able to un-stick the bonds from their wrists.
Oh, and the fact that he's Queens' own born and bred superhero!
"Good morning," he responds, raising an eyebrow at the three plates the boy is juggling back to the dining table. "I have to go to school today in..." he checks the microwave clock. "Holy guacamole! Forty minutes!"
He quickly scarfs down the food and runs back to get ready.
"Forty minutes?" Miles asks in a quiet talking voice because Peter knows that they can all hear each other just fine, even from a slight distance. "You've got time, bro."
"I go to school in Midtown! It's an hour subway ride!" He squeaks out, throwing on clothes, stuffing his suit in his backpack, and racing out the door. And then backtracks, tossing the house key to Miles who's still at the table. "I'll be back home sometime between five and six. Leave the windows open, there's cash on top of the refrigerator, don't eat the bagels 'cause I'm pretty sure they're expired, we can talk more about what to do later, bye!"
And then he's gone, leaving Gwen and Miles to fend for themselves for a day.
Well, they're old enough. He's not too worried about abandoning them for school because he knows that the Spider-Ghost girl has her head screwed on right and isn't the type to make any rash decisions. Peter's not entirely sure of the game plan on finding some dimensional portkey to transport the duo to their respective home worlds, but he'll figure that out later.
Once he gets to school before the late bell rings.
Because he's a smart kid, having gotten into the renown Midtown School of Science and Technology on a scholarship, he quickly calculates that even if he runs all the way there, even with his enhanced speed and stamina, he'll at least miss the first half of first period. And catching a train or a subway is a no-no, a taxi even worse. There's only one thing that'll let him reach the campus on time, and that's if he webs his way over all the traffic filled roads.
Luckily, he owns an exceedingly non descript grey-blue school bag, so he allows himself to sling it over his shoulder while donning the Spider Man suit, swinging from building to building. He waves and does the occasional triple flip through the air between changing web ropes, and he can practically feel his popularity rise. It's amazing, almost getting to his head.
Or, it would have gotten to his head already if it weren't for his position in school.
Peter somehow makes it to first period ten minutes before the first bell rings, so he rushes to look over his study materials and look as nerdy as possible so no one notices the thin sheen of sweat glazed on his forehead and a huge grin threatening to break out. Swinging from building to building always feels like flying, and he mostly decided to wear a mask when he first discovered his powers because he knew that he wouldn't be able to stop a stupid smile from breaking out from the enjoyment and adrenaline.
He's Spider Man, not Smile Man, goddammit!
"'Sup dickwad," some generic bully shouts from across the classroom. Peter ignores it, knowing that it'll all fade away in a few minutes.
And he's right. He's just some typical nerdy STEM fanatic - which is nearly everyone, in this school - so it's not like anyone's targeting him. The "cool kids" of the school aren't the typical bullies he sees in the media. They (namely Flash) are smart enough to be in the prestigious high school, know better than to involve themselves in something stupid as drugs, and aren't actually mean for the sake of being mean.
They're just assholes who like to pick on the weird quiet loners like Peter.
Of course, he has friends, yeah... Okay maybe just a friend.
He survives through his morning classes (barely, just barely), and is finally rejuvenated when he meets up with Ned during lunch in the cafeteria.
"Dude!" Ned whisper-yells once they finally sit down at their customary seats. "I saw the news during third period tech class."
"News? Or..." At this, Peter lowers his voice. "News-news."
His best friend in the whole wide world winks, signifying that it is, indeed, news-news. Also known as anything related to Spider Man type news.
He pulls out his phone and shows Peter the bookmarked website. And, according to the news article, several celebrities had commented on his daring adventure this morning. He grabs Ned's phone and scrolls through the entire article, anticipation and excitement palpable in the air.
"Oh my god, Tony Stark tweeted 'cool flip!' for Spider Man," he says louder than he means to.
The entire cafeteria hears him, and suddenly everyone's on their phones, checking the local stories. Peter blushes and slightly cowers deeper into his seat, thankful that no one paid attention to exactly who said that.
Ned scoffs. "Peter, why can't you just, I dunno, tell people about your..." he makes a vaguely octopus-like motion with his hands. "Thing?"
Peter realizes that the octopus is supposed to represent a spider.
The week following the Vulture's arrest and his popularity blowing up, Peter had considered exposing his identity. He'd become even more famous that way, he knew, but ultimately decided against it. Aunt May and her safety matters more to him than any amount of fame, so Peter repeats this mantra to Ned. Again.
By the time last period is over, Peter's already racing out campus, eager to get back to his abandoned spiderlings. He wonders how Miles and Gwen are doing, slightly guilty that he essentially forgot all about last night's issues from the busyness of school. But instead of taking the subway home (like he should've this morning), he's instead circumvented on his path to the nearest station by a doddering old grandpa tapping his cane around the sidewalks near a busy traffic zone. He immediately rushes to help the old blind man, spending a good half hour helping the old man walk to his home in Hell's Kitchen, where a delighted grandma is waiting and on line with the cops.
And he feels good that he's helped someone today, regardless of having the mask on or not.
Because he's already in Hell's Kitchen, he decides might as well call up Daredevil to see if he has any information on a galactic portkey. Probably not, but it doesn't hurt to try. Peter dons his suit, hides his backpack behind a dumpster, and leaps up into the air, calling his fellow vigilante's name out.
There aren't as many cameras or people pointing their fingers up at him as there are in Queens, but he supposes its because the people of Hell's Kitchen are used to superheros barging in their city from time to time, being so close to Midtown and all that.
Ten minutes pass and Peter thinks to himself that perhaps no one's coming at all. It's much to bright and early outside for Daredevil, anyway. So he's about to swing away, back to where he left his backpack, before a tremendous boom fills the air.
BOOM, it goes again, and suddenly a giant beam of light erupts from his southwest direction. The light blinds him at first, but he's got enough senses to just close his eyes and focus on his spidey sense.
(It is not called my "Peter Tingle," Aunt May!)
He's been training his other senses to get up to par with his spidey sense and it seems as though the work has paid off. He can hear the ratchet of chaos in the streets below him, the sirens of cops just beginning to blare on the other side of the city, the faint crying of a baby in the apartment building he's standing on. He can smell exhaust fumes of all the car engines starting on the streets to escape the area, the restaurant stoves sizzling to a stop, the ozone wafting from the source of the light explosion. He can feel the waves of heat and panic radiating from all around him more vividly than ever, and it's...
It makes his heart beat louder and faster than it's ever been, but it's oh so delightful. Adrenaline courses through his veins, and he finally leaps forward, eyes still shut tight, to the source of the chaos.
Daredevil is by his side only moments later. They're parkouring over roof tops and street lamps, no one saying a word.
Until, of course, Peter opens his stupid mouth and begins blabbering. "How are we supposed to fight this guy without our vision? I'm pretty okay with my other senses, but I can't do any long distance web things without seeing where they're going," he says as they head further into the fray. Some evil man exuding piercing electrical waves is at the center of the light (he can smell the ozone from electricity, not that he opened his stupid eyes and looked directly into the battle field), and he's a bit at a loss.
The two vigilantes stop at the rooftop closest to the beam of blinding white light and the cackling villain.
Well. Peter's faced worse.
So far, the man is only generating electricity to shoot at the sky and laughing maniacally, shouting "I am Electro!" over and over again, so it's safe to say that Daredevil and him have a few minutes to make a game plan.
He turns his head the general direction of Daredevil, who is... stifling a laugh?
"I fight pretty well in the dark, so blinding light shouldn't be much of an issue," he says, and Peter feels extremely confused.
"That's an oxymoron," he states.
If Peter could see, he thinks that the devil horned man is smiling at him right now. "You mean a contradiction," he is corrected. "Slight difference, Spider Man."
There's a minor staring contest (get it? get it?) before Peter concedes. "Alright, Double D. I'll web up the surrounding areas, get citizens out, yadda yadda. You and your contradictions can fight Electro."
Daredevil lets out a noise that can only be from a smirk, and the battle begins.