#PeterParkerProtectionSquad

Scott gets a FaceTime call from an unknown number one day while he’s lying upside down watching HGTV and eating spaghetti. He’s thinking about what would happen if he grew a bit of spaghetti to be human-sized (it would most likely involve Hope being very, very disappointed in him) when his ringtone starts to blare. He sits upright and reaches over to grab it, wiping tomato sauce from his cheek as he does. The number is unknown. He clicks answer; the caller is some teary-eyed kid wearing some oversized t-shirt that reads I Survived My Trip To NYC. Fat tears roll down his face.

“Sorry, Scott, it’s just Wanda gave me your number, and I’m in a—I don’t know what to do, and I talked to my aunt but it’s hard because she doesn’t know about it and I really just am so mad at myself but also at Mr. Stark and—“

Scott eventually pieces together that the teenage boy on the screen is Spider-Man. He says, “Woah, kiddo. Slow down.”

Onscreen, the presenter yammers about backsplashes.

“Sorry, did I interrupt something?” asks Spider-Man. He looks sheepish.

“Nah,” says Scott, muting the TV. “I love Chip and Joanna, but you’re more important.”

Spider-Man laughs. It’s a little wet and thick through the tears, but it’s still a laugh. He explains: about the ferry and the FBI and Stark and losing the suit. At the end, Scott wants to reach through the tiny screen and hug him. Or possibly punch Stark. Maybe more than once.

Instead, he says, “Look, kid, you did what you thought was right. You probably should have called someone before you went after him, but there’s no way you could have known about the FBI. You’re not telepathic, unless spiders can suddenly read minds.”

The kid laughs again. He rubs his arm sheepishly and says, “Thanks, Scott.”

“No problem.” Really, the least Tony could’ve done was tell Peter he was sorting it out. Steve was right. Communication really was not the guy’s strong suit.

“It was just... scary, you know? When the ship fell apart and I-there was nothing I could do.”

“You did your best. And yeah, you screwed it up. But it wasn’t really your fault. Keep doing good things, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Scott,” murmurs the kid, smiling a little.

“Hey,” says Scott. “Anything for my Bug Buddy.”

He saves Spider-Man’s number in his phone, and returns to his spaghetti, fairly proud of himself.

When Scott gets a frantic call from Rhodey the next day, telling him that Spider-Man’s Homecoming date’s dad dropped a building on the kid, he has to stop himself from getting on the first plane to New York, house arrest be damned. Instead, he sends a (hopefully) comforting text as well of a selfie of him and Cassie making hearts with their hands. He feels a little useless, and has to restrain himself from ripping the anklet to pieces and going to the airport, if just to make sure Spider-Man isn’t dead.

Eventually, Spider-Man sends him a smiley and couple of thumbs up. He doesn’t seem very talkative, which is unlike him. Normally, Peter sends five texts for every one of Scott’s. Not that Scott minds. He likes the chatter.

Realising he’s not going to get any details from Spidey himself, Scott calls Sam.

“Finally, a responsible adult to talk to,” says Sam. He’s like an old man. Scott tells him so.

“You try being shut up in an apartment with only a nineteen-year-old freaking out over the reckless bullshit of a fifteen-year-old while also having no news source except Rhodey, who’s in the middle of a meeting!” is the response. “I mean, Wanda’s a great roomie most of the time–no mess, always sneaking around with Vision–but this is the most stressful thing.”

Scott desperately wants to discuss Wanda and the orange robot (he’d thought she had a bit more class), but he figures now is not the time, even though this is the first bit of good gossip they’ve had in a while that wasn’t somebody getting injured. Instead, he inquires after Spider-Man.

“He okay?”

“Think so. There’s no tracker on his suit anymore, though–Tony took away his fancy one after the ferry. Which is absolute bullshit. Kid’s reckless but if Stark had bothered talking to him none of this would have happened.”

Scott starts. “Poor kid. That guy really needs to learn how to communicate with people.”

Sam mutters something extremely insulting. Scott chooses to ignore this. Instead, he changes the subject. “Any word on Barnes?”

“Nothing new. Steve’s miserable, T’Challa’s the best, the usual.”

Steve is always miserable. T’Challa is always the best. None of this is any news. He makes small talk with Sam for a while, congratulating himself on zero badly timed jokes. Wanda shows up at some point, and lets them know that the kid has returned home alive. According to Vision, Stark is planning to make him an Avenger, despite the fact that then he’ll definitely have to reveal his identity if he does. Sam starts to talk loudly about child endangerment, which Scott backs up with the occasional ‘Yeah!’ and “Uh-huh!’ because he’s really too furious to say anything else.

Apparently, Rhodey is talking to Stark about this stuff. Scott feels more than a little useless. He glares accusingly at the anklet.

“Stupid laws,” he mutters, and goes to make dinner. Cassie’s staying at his tonight, and Luis wants to come over. Apparently there’s some sort of issue with the business. Also, his cooking is apparently “the shit”. While he’s waiting by the oven, he tells Rhodey to keep him posted.

Rhodey says, Will do.

He’s distracted the rest of the week, but when Rhodey texts to say the kid refused the offer, Scott practically jumps out of his seat with excitement. Cassie looks at him suspiciously. Scott does his best poker face.

She’s not convinced.

Kid’s smart, sends Sam.

Hell yeah he is.

Scott doesn’t get another call from Peter for several weeks. In between then, he reunites with Hope, who chews him out, then chews out every other Avenger in turn.

“The accords are a load of garbage,” she grouses, “but you could have told me you were going rogue to fight them.”

Having his body taken over by his ex-girlfriend’s mom is weird. It felt a little like he was back in the quantum realm, murky and dim. Then he was back up, his consciousness coughing for air. And Hank was travelling in a weird realm with weirder logic and even weirder magic, and the FBI was after him. So, really, a normal afternoon.

He goes to Hope’s for dinner one night, after his anklet has been taken off. They eat takeaway Chinese and Scott rants about the genius of The Fault In Our Stars while Hope laughs at him. (He doesn’t know why. TFIOS is the book to end all other books.) His phone starts vibrating violently.

Checking the Caller ID, he says, “I should probably take this,” and heads to the hall.

When he picks up, Spider-Man says, “I’m sorry, Scott, I just– I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“About Homecoming?” Scott asks, even though it’s obvious.

“Yeah. It’s just, the Vulture knows who I am. You don’t even know who am.” Peter is obviously distressed.

“I know your first name,” offers Scott. “And I know you’re pretty cool, kiddo.”

“Yeah, but the Vulture knows my school, and my friends, and my aunt–What if he gets out, Scott? What if he comes for them?”

Scott knows this feeling. He gets it every day of his life. He’s never really bothered with a secret identity, and Cross had gone after Cassie. He’d endangered her, he endangers her every time he puts on his suit and goes off to help Hope save the city/the world/the universe. “Yikes, I get it, kiddo. It’s going to be okay, I promise.” He gets an idea. “You know I run a security business, right? How about, next time I’m in New York, I head over to rig a little security system up in your house? If you’re willing to give me your address, and stuff. You don’t have to.”

Peter takes a long breath, and agrees.

“Okay, great,” says Scott. “Now listen, Spidey, I gotta run, because I’m sort of on a date. Not that I wouldn’t prioritise your safety over my dating life any day of the week! But I’d really recommend talking to someone more local about this. Maybe Rhodes? At least for now…”

Peter says he’ll talk to Rhodey, and Scott agrees that would probably be for the best. He hangs up, and Scott heads back to the kitchen. Hope grins at him around a mouthful of chicken.

“Spider-Man? I thought you weren’t supposed to be aware of Avengers stuff?”

Scott shrugs. “I’m not supposed to be talking to you.”

That makes Hope laugh. She pokes at her dinner with her chopsticks. Scott takes his back up and points a chopstick at her. “Anyway, he’s fifteen. Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on him, because Stark sure as hell isn’t.”

“No shit,” says Hope. She looks pretty angry. “Didn’t he just fight some crazy winged guy… without his fancy suit?”

Scott looks down at his food. “He got it taken away, for not reading Stark’s mind, more or less.”

“That man–!“ Hope begins. Scott gives her a look. A look that says, I totally get it, but right now you’re wanted by the FBI and there’s literally nothing we can do. Since when did he become the rational one?

“So what did he want?” she says.

Scott explains, talking about the training and the Washington Monument disaster and the ferry and the Vulture. Hope is fuming by the end of it. So is he. “Anyway,” he says, “I offered to go to New York, install a security system in his house for him.”

Hope nods. “That’s good.” She smiles at him. It’s warm and comforting and Scott feels like he’s full of honey. He watches her, as she watches him. His entire body feels as though it’s been drenched in gentle sunshine.

“C’mon,” he says, finally. “The Fixer Upper reruns are on.”

Hope laughs, and leans forward to kiss him.

Which is how Scott ends up on an uncomfortable plane, crammed between a miserable-looking pregnant woman and a business man who had leered at him as he sat down. At least five different babies are crying. It’s at this point he really wishes he hadn’t (accidentally) forced Hank into hiding so that he could borrow his private jet. If he had one. Scott thought he probably did. Instead, he’s here, on the cheapest possible flight he could find, ready to help a kid in need but causing his knees extreme pain in the process. Scott opens his own phone and thumbs through his messages with Spider-Man. The kid had seemed beyond surprised when Scott told him he actually intended to follow through on his offer of a security system, and had then objected violently to the idea of it being free-of-charge.

So Scott had called his aunt, who Spidey had let slip now knew about his extracurricular activities. May had been more than a little unwelcoming, berating him for enabling Spider-Man’s Spider-Manning, which Scott accepted with remarkable dignity. She’d met Sam and Wanda already, demanding to meet the people who were, as Sam put it, “teaching the kid how to endanger himself more safely”, and had subsequently had, according to Rhodey, a huge argument with Tony Stark. Peter’s patrol hours were limited and a curfew had been put in place. Scott can’t help but wonder how Peter had persuaded her to let him keep doing his thing at all. 

He understands where May’s coming from, though. Scott reckons he would have done the same, in her place.

The businessman appears to be trying to read Scott’s texts over his shoulder, so he exits out of it and pulls up his Netflix account. On the Great British Bake-Off, somebody’s chocolate carousel is crumbling. It’s very dramatic.

Several hours later, Scott runs out of episodes. The plane is landing. As they touch down, Scott half expects Iron Man to burst onto the plane and arrest him instantly. He doesn’t. Besides, he’s not technically breaking any of Woo’s rules. Spider-Man’s not a Rogue Avenger, he’s just a kid. A kid who is visibly scared, and who needs help. The customs officer squints at him suspiciously anyway. To be fair, his face was all over the news a few years ago. Scott smiles at the guy across the counter, who eventually lets him through.

Sam Wilson is waiting for him outside, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and hands shoved into his pockets. He’s wearing large sunglasses, and smiling. Scott doesn’t acknowledge him, instead putting on a similar hat and following Sam at a distance to a beat-up van. He climbs in the passenger seat as Sam pulls himself into the driver’s.

“There’s no way they’re not going to figure out that this is you,” Scott says.

“Eh,” says Sam. “I’m heading back to Wakanda soon. They’re about to wake Barnes up and I gotta… I gotta be there. Not that I really care about that son of a bitch, but… for Steve, y’know?”

Scott nods. He doesn’t understand how Steve is feeling, not really, but he can still empathise. And it must be hard as shit, he supposes.

They make small talk for the rest of the drive. The windows of the car are tinted slightly to hide them from view. Sam drums his fingers agitatedly against the steering wheel every time they hit traffic.

Eventually, they pull up in front of an apartment building. Sam lets him out after warning him against anything stupid.

(“I never do anything stupid!”

“Didn’t you fall asleep in the middle of the sea on National TV while you were under house arrest last month?”)

Scott presses the buzzer, and ascends in the elevator towards the Parker’s home.

The woman who answers the door is wearing the coolest pants Scott has ever seen. They have elephants on them. They’re also flares. Scott decides in that moment that May Parker is legendary.

She gives him a cool once-over and says, “Scott, right?”

He nods, feeling a little sheepish. “I brought my alarms, and stuff.”

Peter comes home from school just as Scott finishes up.

“What’s up, Bug Buddy?” Scott asks, extending a hand for a fist-bump. Peter returns it eagerly.

“Scott! It’s so nice to finally meet you… properly. When I’m not fighting you, I mean.”

Scott judges that discussions of the Germany Nightmare are not to be had in front of May. She looks pretty mad.

Instead, he says, “You going patrolling?”

“Nah,” Peter shrugs. “Last training session before Sam leaves.” He looks a little despondent. “Wanda’s leaving, as well.”

“They’ve been here for a long time,” Scott says, checking that his system works properly. “I’d join you, but I think meeting up with them so soon would be a bad idea. They’re definitely keeping tabs on me. It was pretty risky of me to get a ride from Sam.”

Peter nods. “I’ll see you, then.”

He heads to another room to change. Scott turns to May. “I’m so sorry, about everything.”

“Did you know?” she asks. “In Germany, did you know how old he was?”

“No. It was pretty awful, when I found out. It was–Rhodey, he overheard Stark talking about it, and he freaked out. Mrs. Parker–“

“May, please,” she says. She fiddles with some teabags, bringing a mug over to him.

“Okay,” he says. “I get how awful this must be for you. Hell, when I found out about it my first thought was how I’d feel if that was my daughter. I put her in danger all the time. I don’t know if you know, but Yellowjacket–nasty bald guy, huge ego?–he attacked her. Right in her own bedroom. And it was the worst I’d ever felt. Ever. Because it was all my fault, you know? But, May, this thing with Peter, it’s not your fault.”

May looks at him, with deep trembling eyes. “I know,” she says. “I know, but it still sucks ass.”

“He’s making this choice. It’s a reckless choice, but he’s got a good heart. And he’s got people looking after him. Falcon and Scarlet Witch and War Machine, and even Stark, sort of,” he says. “And I don’t know loads about you, but you seem like a pretty badass lady. You’ve raised him with a good heart–it sounds cheesy, but it’s true. He’s just trying to help people in the best way he can think of. You’re a great guardian.”

May smiles, thinly. “You seem like a great dad. Thank you for looking out for him.”

That makes Scott choke up a little. He swallows it. “Man, I am tired. You ever watch Fixer Upper?”

May laughs.