Chapter 2
Peter’s first few months at the orphanage are riddled with nightmares. Dreams of May telling him it’s his fault she died haunt him from every corner.
He’d become close to Sawyer, who brought back a stack of sign language books home from the library. She would always wake him up gently in the night, talking to him about space and physics and other things she knew he was interested in until he calmed down enough.
She also learned about his secret identity after he disappeared after dinner one night, without returning until the wee hours of the morning.
He didn’t know she was waiting up for him when he crawled in at two in the morning until she whispered, “Wanna tell me what you’re doing on the ceiling?” Sawyer had startled him so bad that he fell, nearly dropping all the way to the floor before he caught himself with a web. Peter lowered himself into a crouch before letting the web out.
Enjoying some night air? he signed. He hadn’t actually spoken since May’s death. (She didn’t know, but he saw some selective mutism information books tucked into her sign language stack. He was okay with it, as long as he didn’t have to talk. He wasn’t sure what his voice would say. The weight of Ben’s death, and now May’s, weighed heavy on his chest, and it was easier to sign than force himself to talk through that pain.)
“In that outfit? Nah, there’s something else going on. You’re Spiderman.” Peter froze, but then realized that there was no way he could defend himself after she’d seen him literally crawling on the ceiling, so he nodded. Sawyer leaned in, asking, “So you've got super strength, you can crawl up walls, what else can you do? Also, how did the whole “I’m a literal spider” thing come about?”
All of my senses are a lot stronger than they were before, and I’ve got this thing, it’s like an extra sense, it tells me when stuff is in danger. I guess I’m faster and stronger than before, and I react faster to stuff. I think that’s it? he signed, wanting to go to bed. As for how I got all this shit, I got bitten by some radioactive spider that got out in a lab my class visited on a field trip.
She must have noticed his tiredness, as she backed off with the questions. “We’ll talk about this more later, alright? I was really worried about you tonight.” He nodded his thanks, before sliding underneath the covers. Sawyer followed suit, her dyed blue hair falling gently around her on the pillow.
Goodnight.
“Goodnight, Peter.”
Peter was grateful when, a few years after he came to the orphanage, the older kids who would always push him around moved out. They would mock him, shove him into doors, and force him to do their homework. He was always terrified to do anything back, fearing that with his strength, he’d do something to hurt them. They left, leaving one last memory in a bruise that lasted for days.
His sleep cycle was almost nonexistent. He would stay out almost all night, coming back in time for a few hours to sleep, before being woken up by Sawyer from nightmares that left him shaken and more tired than he was before.
She suggested that he take a break from Spidermanning, but in the mornings, he would hear May calling him by his dead uncle’s name and knowing that if he stopped, more people would get hurt.
Even with maintaining his identity, Peter still got into one of the top high schools in Queens, even managing to skip a grade on the way up. He pushed himself harder and harder, trying to prove that he might be good enough in some way.
You could have saved me. Why didn’t you?
Sawyer didn’t know it, but every day on his patrol, he stopped by May and Ben’s graves. He would tell them about what he’d done as Spiderman, about the bully at school who called him Penis Parker because Peter was ranked ahead of him, and about life at the orphanage and the few friends he had.
He always left feeling like he should’ve done better.
You’re the reason Ben died, his subconscious told him. You could have saved May.
He’d been noticing his reflexes slowing down, and had assumed it was from his lack of sleep. It was nearly finals week, and Peter had been pushing himself harder than ever inside and outside of school. It all came to a point when, the day before his chemistry test, a mugger caught him off-guard.
It was late in his patrol when he heard the scream from an alley nearby. He swung over to see a man shoving a woman against the alley floor, his hand shoved up her skirt, the woman trying to push him off. Peter flinched as the man’s hand flew, striking her across the face. She yelped and brought a hand to the tender skin. He was on top of her screaming at her, he pulled a gun from his pants and pressed it to her head. She stiffened, eyeing the barrel.
Dust from the alley got in Peter’s throat before he could announce his presence and he coughed. The man froze and turned, mouth twisting into a sneer as he realized who it was. “Spider-boy, eh? Thought you’d show up.” Peter moved to engage him.
First things first: disarm the man. He grabbed the man’s arm with the gun, ripping the weapon from his hand and flinging it towards the street as the man pulled the trigger. The shot bounced off a wall, sending brick shards flying and leaving Peter dizzy from the sudden noise against his sensitive ears.
The man took that opportunity to punch Peter hard between the eyes. He stumbled but lashed out, his foot connecting with the man’s stomach causing him to double over. Peter grasped the man’s head and slammed it against his knee, feeling bone shatter against bone. Leaping up, he spun backwards kicking the man in the chest sending him into the wall, not moving. He turned to the woman still on the ground.
"Thank you,” she told him earnestly as he helped her up. Peter nodded, and considered for a moment saying something, but he hesitated too long. “You’re such a great help to the world. Keep doing what you’re doing,” she said as he walked her to the street, avoiding the man’s body near the entrance. He felt like he was forgetting something, but his muddled brain couldn’t remember.
He walked the woman to the street, where she gave him a hug, sobbing into the fabric of his suit. He rubbed her back, trying to be comforting. She pulled out a hand with shaky hands, before calling a friend, asking them to come pick her up. Peter sat with her on the bench, waiting, until a small car rolled up and another woman stepped out with open arms to embrace her friend. The newcomer expressed her thanks, helping the woman into her car and driving away.
He went back to the alley, looking for the man where he had left him. Peter heard a knife click and he turned around, realizing that while he was helping the woman, the man had managed to crawl over to his knife. Shit, I didn’t web him! His breath whooshed out of him as the blade sliced deep against his side, and he tumbled to the ground clutching his side. Holy shit! Holyshitholyshitholyshit! His head reeled. He had the sense to web the gash together. Breathing became somewhat easier but pain spiked through his entire body. He staggered to his feet. The knife wielding bitch was gone. Peter leaned against the wall, before sticking his hands against the wall and slowly pulling himself up the rough brick. What felt like eternities later, he reached the top of the building.
He lay back on the roof, trying to catch his breath as the webbing began to staunch the bleeding. For a few moments, all was quiet. He listened to the city living below him, the beeping of car horns, the chatter of radios, and the discussions of the people staying up late.
Suddenly, his senses went off as he heard a roaring behind him, and he sat up suddenly, wincing, but ready to fight.
Peter couldn’t believe his eyes as the Iron Man landed on the apartment building. He scrambled back and launched himself to his feet, ready to swing if the situation turned bad, wondering if Iron Man was here to arrest him for vigilante activities. That question was answered when the faceplate raised to reveal Tony Stark’s face. “Yknow, you’re pretty popular on Twitter. People are always trying to figure out where you’ll go next.” Noticing Peter's expression, he said in a gentler tone, “Hey, don’t run, I’m not here to arrest you. I just want to talk to the guy who’s slinging all over the city in a cotton onesie.”
He paused, tilting his head. The suit contracted and Mr. Stark stepped out, wearing a t-shirt and jeans. “Look, I’m not going to hurt you.” Peter nodded, believing him.
What do you want to know? he signed to the older man.
“You use sign language? That’s pretty cool. Any specific reason?”
Flashes of May’s bruised and bleeding face shot through his mind, and he looked away, in the direction he knew the graveyard was in, sending a stream of mental apologies to his aunt. I don’t want to talk about that.
“Alright then, let’s try something simpler. What’s your name, kid?”
It’s called a secret identity for a reason, Peter signed, before realizing that was kind of rude. Oh my god, I’m so sorry.
“Don’t stress it. Someone’s got a sense of sarcasm. How old are you?”
Sixteen, Peter replied.
Mr. Stark whistled. “Wow, that’s young. And you built all this yourself? Even the webshooters?”
I had a friend help me a little bit with those, but the rest, I made myself.
“Impressive, for a sixteen-year old. Ever think about applying at Stark Industries? We could use a brain like yours.”
Are you offering me a job?
“Perhaps,” Mr. Stark replied with a slight smile.
Ned’s never going to believe this, Peter signed, slightly frantic in his motions due to his excitement that the actual Tony Stark was there, and offering him a job. His wound pulsed at the movement and he sucked in a sharp breath.
“Is Ned the friend who helped you build all of your shit- I mean stuff? And are you hurt?” Mr. Stark asked, moving closer.
No, why would you think that? he lied, ignoring the question about his friend, nervous now that the older man was examining him more closely.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s the red stain on your onesie or the fact that you wince every time you move. And you look like you’re about to pass out.”
I’m fine. I heal quick, he signed, turning around and stretching out his arms, feeling trapped and ready to run. Thanks for the job offer, but I’m gonna have to turn you down.
“Wait- kid- damnit,” Peter heard Mr. Stark say as he reached out and swung, the motion jarring his side.
He swung away in the night, smiling a little to himself.