The Backup

Propped up by his fist, Peter watched as the Homecoming banner was hung with stars in his eyes, dreamy in a way his Aunt May would tease him mercilessly for. Liz Allan-Toomes stretched her arms up high to hook the string of the banner around a nail, pushed up to an even taller height by the ladder. She was incredible, one of the smartest people he'd ever met, her smile was like sunshine and he was just a bystanding sunflower, willed to turn toward her.

And Ned seemed to be in a similar situation, sitting beside him at their long, empty cafeteria table, also looking in Liz's direction.

"Did Liz get a new top?" Peter asked, turning his head slightly in his friend's directio

"No," he responded, a bit monotone. "We've seen that before, but never with that skirt."

A girl stopped beside Liz's ladder, the two of them looking at each other as they spoke. "We should probably stop staring before it gets creepy, though."

"Too late."

In unison, the boys turned their heads to the right, where, at the other end of the table and on the opposite side, sat Michelle Jones. Social reject, preferred introvert, and all-round intelligent

As they just looked at her, caught in the act, she added, "You guys are losers."

"But then why do you sit with us?" Ned asked, seemingly actually curious.

"Because I don't have any friends."

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One month and a half since the Vision followed in the Black Widow's footsteps, abandoning ship to join Captain Rogers and the other outlawed Avengers. Two months since Black Widow had disappeared from Peter's sickbay. Two months since Peter had heard from Happy Hogan or Tony Stark. The unanswered text messages sat heavy in his pocket, distracting him every day. Right now, it was the Decathalon, even as he sat in front of the team supervisor.

Mr Harrington tried to reason, "Peter, it's Nationals. Is there no way you could take one weekend off?"

"I can't go to Washington because if Mr. Stark needs me, then I have to make sure that I'm here." The need to be available if the Avengers ever needed him was intense enough to make him sick, cause a prickling headache in his head. He chalked it up to the nerves and the eager excitement, of 'holy shit, Tony Stark knows who I am and I'm basically an Avenger!'

But the feeling was interrupted by the obnoxious. "You've never even been in the same room as Tony Stark," Flash snarked from where his ankles were crossed on top of a chair. Peter's eyes narrowed into an annoyed look, but he wasn't going to give in.

He was past that.

"Wait, what's happening?" Cindy intervened the interrupted, hands apart on the table and her fingers spread, a position of alarm.

As Peter rolled his eyes at the surge of attention, Sally answered from her spot on the floor, previously studying her notes, "Peter's not going to Washington."

"No," Cindy began to chant, eyes going wide in worried panic, hands pressing harder into the plastic table. "No, no, no, no, no -"

Abe, beside her and humorous as always, rang the bell before speaking. "Why not?"

"Really? Liz asked, assessing the situation and finally getting in her piece. "Right before nationals?"

Peter signed, angling his face into his bent arm, elbow propped up on the table he leaned against. But then groaned as, of course, Michelle added, "He already quit marching band and robotics lab." He glanced up after registering the information, as everyone else turned their eyes to their resident introvert. With a shrug and nonchalant tone, she excused, "I'm not obsessed with him. Just very observant."

"Flash," Liz started, "you're in for Peter." Being the president of the team, the second in command behind Mr. Harrington, she had to make a decision on the ruling while the topic was still present.

Peter was glad for it to be done with, wrapped up after all his teammates had gotten in what they thought. But of course Flash had to draw it out, cocking his head and drawling, "Ooh, I don't know. I gotta check my calendar first. I got a hot date with Black Widow coming up."

Peter's back stiffened, instinctually, and his gaze jerked to the side at the ring of Abe's bell. "That is false."

"What did I tell you about using the bell for comedic purposes?" Mr. Harrington reminded, clearly annoyed. It had been a whole thing throughout the year.

Peter turned his head again, all the way in the opposite direction. Eyes meeting the clock, he deflated.

1:18pm

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Peter ran catty-corner across the street, leaving Delmar's with a plastic baggy in hand, his sandwich for later hanging inside. He raised his other hand, palm facing the cab coming straight toward him as the driver honked their horn. But he made it across the street and opened the gate to his usual alley, bumping it shut behind him.

In an eager hurry, Peter was already taking off his shoes and tossing them aside, twisting his torso to get his backpack from around his shoulders. Unzipping it and pulling out the high-tech supersuit, he dropped the bag and began to wrestle his way out of his clothes. Pants coming first, left leg kicking up and knocking over the trash can. Stumbling away a few steps, he got his legs and feet free and started to pull the hem of his sweater and button-down undershirt up over his head. He dropped the articles down with his jeans, finally able to get the suit on, feet first, jumping up like his Aunt May did with her skinny jeans, and then putting his arms through the sleeves. The whole thing was way to big at first, to be able to be put on, and it was manageable as he got out his mask and stuffed his shoes and every-day clothes in the backpack. Beginning to walk to the other side of the alley, he tossed his backpack and webbed it to the side of a dumpster, then tabbed the emblem on the center of the chest. The material shrunk to size, snug but comfortable to move in.

He pressed the buttons on his web shooters, and the whole suit came to life. Enhanced, just like his life after he got bit and somehow got these crazy, freaky powers. He raised his hand, shooting a web at the top of the building creating this alley and pulling himself up. He jumped over the roofs of multiple buildings, just as pumped and excited about the abilities as he was the first time he ran over buildings. He crouched down at the edge of one, inhaling deeply and sighing hard enough for his shoulders to fully deflate. "Finally."

His head turned at the snap of metal, and at the fling of a web, he swung down on the scene; a man breaking a bicycle chain and riding it down the sidewalk, in the way of innocent people. Peter easily landed in front of him, holding out his hand. "Hey, could you hold this for a second?" In the moment of confusion and distraction, Peter attached the web to his hand and released him, the thief pulled up in the air like the web was a bungee cord - which was almost exactly how he designed it to be.

Peter took hold of the bike, suddenly not sure what to do. He honestly hadn't thought this far. All he thought was that.someone paid a lot of money for their bike and no way should it be stolen.

Well shit.

"Hey, is this anybody's bike?" he called out, looking at the people lingering around him. Someone came out of the store he was standing in front of, and he asked him, "Hey, buddy, is this your bike?" only to get an auto blow-off response.

Peter signed, and turned around again. Defeated, he asked around, "Does anyone have a pen?"

Then again came the waiting. Swinging by the elevated train tracks, checking up on the train stations. Riding on top of a subway car, legs crossed as he read a recent article about The Accords and a sighting of Captain America, saving it for a project he was working on.

Tony didn't tell him much of anything, when he was sent out to Berlin. Just that Cap went crazy and the Avengers needed help. But...if The Vision and Black Widow both left the Compound for him, was he really that crazy? Peter had heard them talking about other Winter Soldiers, and after fighting the original one at the airport -

Sharp pain blasted through his head, making him drop his phone with a clatter and grab his temples, as if he were trying to squeeze the pain out of his brain.

Tony hadn't listened. Peter was on a one-track mind at the time, but thinking back on it, Peter heard it. They had a reason for their fight, they had a place to go and all but two of them ended up locked up. Peter wasn't there for that part.

His eyebrows knit together in confusion, the pain in his head continuing to flare.

Where had he been?

After a few minutes, he shook his head. He got himself up, picking up the phone and pocketing it into a secure slot of his suit. He sent out two webs and jumped off the side of the subway car, making his way through the city and coming to a stop on top of a new building, one that had the American flag stationed on top of it. He balanced on the edge of the roof, the elevated wall creating a makeshift railing, and walked over to the corner; then turned around and walked back.

"Hey!" someone yelled, and Peter immediately tracked the voice to a man on the ground, standing in front of a vendor's cart. "You're that spider guy on YouTube, right?"

With a smile on underneath his mask, he shouted back, "Call me Spider-Man!"

"Okay, Spider-Man!" A second later; "Do a flip!"

Okay. He was gonna make this extra cool. Peter put his back to them and flipped backward, twisting threw times in the air before he sent out a web that dragged him through the air, away from the guy that had been shouting up to him.

A few streets away, he stopped beside an old woman that looked lost, leaning in close to hear her words so he could give her directions. The next moment, he attached a web between two buildings and practiced even more balance, arms held out along his sides as he walked the thin material.

A man trying to get into a car caught his attention, jiggling a thin piece of metal into the window. Peter jumped down on top of the car, attaching a piece of web to the guy's head and pulling at him. Part of him startled when the car started beeping in alarm.

"Hey, buddy. Shouldn't steal cars. It's bad." With more webbing, he attached the guy's hand to the top of the car, ready to call the police so they could get him.

"It's my car, dumbass!"

Oh.

"Hey!" A sharp, old voice yelled, and Peter sharply looked up to find an old woman leaning out of her window. "Shut that off!"

"I was just trying to -" he started to explain, but the guy by the car interrupted him;

"Can you tell him it's my car?"

Another voice shouted at him, making him turn around quickly, "I work at nights! Come on, dude!"

And another; "That's not your car! That's his car!"

"How was I supposed to know?" Peter called back, a hint of hysteria in his voice. "He was putting that thing in the window!"

"Every day with these damn alarms!"

"Shut it off!"

Peter put his hand to his head, the pain that never quite went away making his head throb. He ducked his head under all the sound, senses dialed so high that he couldn't handle the onslaught -

"Don't make me come down there, you punk!"

"He-eyy, Gary!" The old woman called over, seemingly forgetting the situation and happy to talk to her supposed friend. "How you doing?"

Peter groaned, and got out of there. Once he was able to, he shot a web up and swung up into the air.

The sky was turning orange as the sun began to set, and only got darker as time went on. He hadn't eaten for hours by that point, so he settled on the railing of a high, vacant fire escape. He pushed the bottom half of his mask up with a sigh of tired relief, and took his sandwich out of one of the pockets. He opened the paper packaging and took a big first bite, comfort immediately seeping into his bones. Delmar's was a constant, something good that got him through his day.

Much like being Spiderman did.

He continued to eat, and with only a couple bites left, he took out his phone. He tried again with Happy, this time a phone call, holding his phone to his ear to listen to the dial tone. Only to get, 'You have reached the voicemail box of..."Happy Hogan."'

Peter's mouth twisted with disappointment. At the beep, he made himself visibly perk up. "Hey, Happy! Um, here's my report for tonight. I stopped a grand theft bicycle. Couldn't find the owner, so I just left a note. Um..." He took a bite of his sandwich, talking through chewing it."Helped this lost, old Dominican lady. She was really nice and bought me a churro...So I just, um...feel like I could be doing more. You know? Just curious when the next real mission is gonna be. So, yeah, just call me back. It's Peter...Parker." He quickly hung up the phone before he rambled on about anything else, immediately sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. A habit that somehow started but had no idea how he adopted it. "Why would I tell him about the churro?"

His web-shooter caught his attention, the blinking light on the wristband. He ejected the empty web fluid cartridge, but it went flying away from the fire escape and Peter jerked after it - without even trying or knowing how it had happened, he was steadily standing on the sides of the railing. He huffed in relief, and slipped the cartridge in his belt so he could refill it later on.

But, as he turned his eyes back up, something real caught his attention. He grabbed his mask from where it had fallen, slinking closer over the side of the building to where four men were approaching a closed corner bank and breaking in to the outer glass doors.

"Finally," he exhaled, energy thrumming through him with a sudden force. "Something good."

Peter kept close watch as he eased closer and closer, as they uncovered and used bulky machinery that glowed at the cores. The science-lover within him seized in eagerness to get his hands on it and take it apart, but nonetheless, that was not his mission today. The first weapon cut apart the front of the ATM, and the second one came in with a pull of what could be assumed to be gravity and dragged the ATM back and out of the way. The three of them immediately began to crouch down and pull out the drawers of cash, while one in an Iron Man cheap costume mask kept watch with a gun.

Unknown to them, Peter quietly came in behind the watcher's back, awkwardly turning around to make sure the door shut silently behind him. He took a moment, raising his arm but thinking better of it, before he settled on leaning his elbow against the door frame. He cleared his throat, and asked, "What's up, guys? You forgot your PIN number?"

The robbers turned to him, the other three revealing their Hulk, Captain America, and Thor masks, obviously in the set that came with Iron Man.

"Whoa!" He played along, actually finding it kind of funny. Why the hell would they wear these masks if they weren't looking to be laughed at? "You're the Avengers! What are you guys doing here?"

Iron Man loaded his gun and started toward him, but Peter remained cool under pressure. He sent a web to Iron Man's hand and jerked it to the side, making him punch Thor as he came to stand. Of course, Thor didn't fall, but came back up backwards. Peter grabbed his elbow and pushed his fist into Hulk, as he joked, "Thor. Hulk. Good to finally meet you guys." He jumped up so his hands stuck to the ceiling, grabbing Thor by the back with his feet and dragging him backward, releasing him so he barrelled into the wall. "I thought you'd be more handsome in person."

Now fully suspended by his feet, Peter easily tipped his head back to avoid a weak punch from Iron Man. "Iron Man!" he exclaimed, easily avoiding punches. "Hey, what are you doing robbing a bank? You're a billionaire."

He grabbed Iron Man's first and locked eyes with Hulk, show as coming at him with the gravity gun. Shoving Iron Man back, the goon lost his balance and punched Hulk. They both fell, but Captain America scooped up the device and aimed at Peter before he could react. He jumped to try and knock the weapon from his hands, but was suspended in the air. Distorted to even his own ears, he yelled, "This feels so weird!" before he was thrown into the wall. Shaking his head, he got himself back up, saying to himself, "Whoa, what even is that thing?"

Just his luck, the force field grabbed him again, and the guy moved the aim so he was thrown to the floor, the ceiling, the wall, back and forth in a vicious cycle that would have hurt much much more if Peter were just human.

He caught himself with his fingers against the tile of the floor, keeping him steady enough to aim a web at a desk against the wall and pull it into Captain America's back. The device turned off and went skidding to the side.

"Alright guys," he said, conversationally, sticking to an intact ATM and flipping around to kick Thor into the glass, hard enough to create a web of thin shatters. "Let's wrap this up. It's a school night."

Iron Man aimed the force field gun at him, but Peter quickly webbed it up against a panel of glass that was still held together, jumping over to him to start to take off his mask. "Seriously, how do jerks like you get tech like this?" Something powered up, and Peter looked up to see Hulk firing the first weapon. "No! Wait -" He pulled Iron Man back, he and the guy falling to the floor as a ray of orange and purple energy blasts across the street, shattering the windows of Delmar's and conjuring fires.

Peter scrambled back up, running across the street as fast as he could. Jumping into the wreckage, he yelled, "Hey, Mr. Delmar, you in there? Is anybody in here? Hello?"

He eventually found the main, covered in soot, wheezing and coughing. Peter scooped Murph the cat up under his arm and had Mr. Delmar lean against him as he helped him out to the street corner, settling him against a bench. He turned toward the bank, finding it as vacant as it had previously been, but the mess inside spoke for itself.

"Oh, come on. You've got to be -" He took a step, but Murph meowed in his arm. "Oh -" he turned around and held the cat out to the man, insisting, "Here, here." Mr. Delmar took him, and Peter started off, jumping up and shooting a web to swing away.

He landed on a roof, already pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing Happy's contact. To his surprise, the dial tone didn't get the chance to finish, before Happy picked up with an absent, "Yeah?"

"Happy," he gasped, running across the roof, "the craziest thing just happened to me. These guys were robbing an ATM with these high tech weapons -"

"Hey, take a breath, okay? I don't have time for ATM robberies -"

"Yeah, but -"

"- or the thoughtful notes you leave behind. I have moving day to worry about. Everything's gotta be out of here by next week."

Peter jumps over an elevated railing wall onto another roof, slowing down. "Wait - Wait! You're moving? Who's moving?"

"Don't you watch the news? Tony sold Avengers Tower. We're fully relocating to the facility upstate."

"But what about me?" he found himself asking, sounding disappointed and like a sad child that was told they couldn't get ice cream.

Simply enough, he hated his voice.

"What about you?" Happy responded, and that was just worse.

Peter jumped down onto a lamppost, sitting there for a moment. "Well, what if Mr. Stark needs me or something," he slid off of it, landing easily against the sidewalk, "I don't know, something big goes down? Can I please just talk to Mr. Stark?"

"Look, just stay away from anything too dangerous. I'm responsible for making sure you're responsible, okay?"

Peter found his way back to the original alley he had stashed his stuff in, pulling off his mask. "I am responsible," he protested. "I - Oh, crap." He felt so stupid all of a sudden, because saying 'im responsible,' suddenly came back to bite him in the ass. He groaned, "My backpack's gone."

"That doesn't sound responsible."

I know. Peter closed his eyes. "I'll call you back."

"Feel free not to," Happy said, before hanging up.

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Peter scaled the side of his apartment building, with no choice but to sneak into his room in his suit. Peaking trough his window, he watched Aunt May walk from her room and through the kitchen. With the coast now clear, he slides the top window down in the frame, enough so he could slip inside with his hands and feet on the ceiling,  putting it back up behind him as he took of his mask and let it fall. He creeped across the ceiling, carefully not to make any spot creak with his weight, and came close to his door. He released a short web, grabbing the corner of the door to guide it shut. He let his feet fall, getting them close to the ground before gently dropping, landing softly against the floor of his bedroom, and silently closed the door the rest of the way.

He turned around and his eyes widened, but nowhere near enough to match the shocked, open-mouth look on Ned's face. The Lego Death Star rolled from his lap, and Peter threw out his hands to try and get it, but the figure crashed go the floor and broke apart, loud enough to alert May and make her yell, "What was that?" as Ned stood up.

Peter whirled around, as if she were standing in the doorway. Panic swelling and taking over, he shouted back, Uh, it's nothing - it's nothing!"

"You're the Spider-Man," his best friend said in awe. "From YouTube."

"I'm not," he immediately claimed, even as he tapped the center emblem on the chest of his suit to make it release from his body, becoming an oversized onesie. "I'm not."

"You were on the ceiling," he countered, breathless.

"No, I wasn't." Voice suddenly speeding up, he demanded, "Ned, what are you doing in my room?"

Even faster, voice going higher, Bed answered, "May let me in, you said we were gonna finish the Death Star!"

"You can't just bust into my room!" Peter said, stepping out of the suit and kicking it out of view.

May opened the door and Peter whirled around to face her in just his underwear, eyes wide.

Well. This didn't look at all great.

She waved a hand-towel beside her face, fanning away the smoke as she coughed. "The turkey meatloaf recipe is a disaster." She pulled the clip from her hair, letting it down over her back. She suggested, "Let's go to dinner. Thai? Ned, you want Thai?"

"Yes -"

"No. He's got a thing." Peter quickly said.

"A thing to do after," Ned corrected.

She nodded, "Okay," and pointed a finger at Peter. "Maybe put on some clothes," she said, before leaving and closing the door behind her. Peter immediately darted away from Bed, reaching for the long sleeve green shirt that was slung over his desk chair.

"Oh, she doesn't know?" Ned asked.

"Nobody knows!" Peter whisper-shouted. "I mean - Mr. Stark knows because he made my suit, but that's it."

Ned was whispering, but the excitements and fanning ran true. "Tony Stark made you that? Are you an Avenger?"

He paused for a second, before shrugging. "Yeah, basically."

Ned honestly looked like he was having an excitement-filled panic attack, as he reached for the frame of the top bunk bed to support him and keep him on his feet. "Whoa..."

Grabbing jeans, Peter pleaded as he began to pull them on, "You can't tell anybody about this. You gotta keep it a secret."

"A secret? Why?"

"You know what she's like. If she finds out people try and kill me every single night, she's not going to let me do this anymore. Come on, Ned, please."

"Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. I'll level with you...I don't think I can keep this a secret," Peter rolled his eyes, turning away. "This is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me, Peter!"

"Ned," Peter said, desperately trying again. He darted over, standing close beside his friend. "May cannot know. I cannot do that to her right now, you know? I mean, everything that's happened with her, I..." He couldn't put this on her, not after losing Uncle Ben five months ago, directly after Peter got his powers. When he could have done something but didn't realize. "Please."

Ned seemed to get the point, straightening up. "Okay."

"Just swear it, okay?"

He nodded. "I swear."

Peter finally relaxed, grabbing Ned's arm. "Thank you." He turned and moved away, running his hands through his hair before saying aloud, "I can't believe this is happening right now."

"Can I try the suit on?"

"No -"

"How does it work? Is it magnets? How do you shoot the strings?" Ned mimicked the motion, knowing it since it was shown in the YouTube videos.

Peter set his hand on his friend's shoulder, guiding him closer to the door. "I'm gonna tell you about this at school tomorrow, okay?"

"Great. Okay, well -" He closed the door as Peter moved to open it, turning back to him for a second. "Wait, then. How do you do this and the Stark internship?"

His brows raised, and he took a moment to settle his surprise at Ned. "This is the Stark internship."

Ned's eyes widened again, and he tapped his nose. "Ahh."

He shook his head, opening the door again and pushing Ned out. "Just get out of here."

He finished getting ready with Ned out of the way, trying to tamper down the worry and anxiety at someone new knowing this secret. It felt wrong, made dreadful sludge move through him.

What if Ned got hurt? What if Ned slipped up and everyone figured out?

Peter let out a shaky breath, pulling on his jacket and pausing for a moment. He'd handle it tomorrow. They would talk it out tomorrow.

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Despite his efforts, Peter was still worrying. He wasn't sure why he couldn't push it down, why the worry made it hard to breathe and made an unexplainable fear settle in him. It wasn't like some Secret Agent Bad Guys™ were going to kidnap Ned and torture him for information. Or kill him.

"What's the matter?" May asked, but it wasn't enough to make Peter look up from his salad. "Thought you loved Larb...Is it too larby?" She paused for a moment, and went on after not getting a response. "Not larby enough...? How many times to I have to say 'larb' before you talk to me?"

Peter finally looked up, the start of a smile on his face. Before he could say anything, she turned on the puppy eyes and said with genuine sincerity, "You know I larb you."

He scoffed, the smile widening for a few moments. "I'm just stressed," he finally said, poking at parts of his salad. "The internship, and I'm tired. A lot of work." He felt bad for lying to his aunt, don't get him wrong. But he was doing a lot of good out there, and she wouldn't realize that.

He had a lot to make up for. To be better because of.

"The Stark internship...I have to tell you, not a fan of that Tony Stark. Distracted all the time...He's got you in your head." Peter didn't like the bitter tone to her voice, but the news report on the TV behind her quickly caught his attention.

"The beloved Queens' institution, Delmar's Sandwiches, was destroyed in an explosion -"

May quieted and turned around when she noticed he was distracted, as the broadcast continued.

"- earlier tonight after an ATM robbery was thwarted by Queens' own colorful local crime-stopper, the Spider-Man. As the Spider-Man attempted to foil their heist, a powerful blast was set off, slicing through the bodega across the street. Miraculously, no one was harmed."

Seemingly having enough, May turned back around and pointed the end of her chopsticks at him. "If you spot something like that happening, you turn and you run the other way."

"Yeah," he started to answer, but fully snapped back into place. Back with the lying... "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course."

"Six blocks away from us," she said in disbelief, with a shake of her head.

Peter stumbled over his words for a second, until he finally got out the question he's been waiting to ask the whole evening. "I...uh...I need a new backpack." He pursed his lips, making a face at her.

The disbelief just became even more. "What?"

"I need a new backpack," he repeated, more quiet this time.

She gently exclaimed, "That's five!"

Peter looked back down at his plate, finally taking another bite of his salad. He didn't mean to lose so many, but the webbing only held for so long.