Disillusioned

“You want me to what?”

“Shoot them Spiderman.” Black widow waved the explosive piece of tech in front of his face causing the masked hero to flinch backwards.

“Nope sorry; I can’t,” he held out his hands while backing away. “It’s against my branding. My manager will kill me.”

She levelled him with an unimpressed look until he relented.

“Ok yeah we work for the same people slash nefarious organisation. What I meant is that my maternal parental figure will kill me. Quite literally. Then feed me to a well meaning feminine friend, who will give me a literal three hour lecture on being a role model to children and displaying appropriate behaviour.” He shrugged helplessly. “There’s a reason I’m not allowed to eat chocolate in the suit anymore.”

“So what you’re saying right now is that you’re scared of your mother and girlfriend?” How this woman could both raise an absolutely disgusted eyebrow and smirk in satisfaction at the same time peter didn’t know. What he did know is that he felt both ashamed and proud.

“Take from it what you will;” he shook his head warily then checked his web shooters. “I’ll round the beasties up. Corral ‘em for ye an’ ye can do the shootin’ tex.”

The assassin continued her unimpressed glare until Hawkeye nudged her side.

“Kid’s got a point though;” he took the gun from her and started checking the weight and feel of it. “He’s probably never shot a gun in his life he’ll just get himself killed.”

Spiderman rubs his neck awkwardly.

“Uh yeah that too. I like my feet without holes.”

...

If there’s anything Peter Parker hates it’s being called ‘kid’ or maybe ‘kiddo’ like he’s fifteen again and in a freaking petting zoo. Not that he went to petting zoos when he was fifteen. He was seven last time. It’s just that every time someone calls him kid he feels like he’s at that petting zoo again and the farmer can just pick him up and throw him on a llama to show him not to be scared of it. Freaking llamas.

Peter Parker also hates walking behind slow people in the middle of the footpath, recaps on every episode, making breakfast and not having coffee in the house. He’s twenty-seven. He’s allowed to hate things.

Spiderman on the other hand doesn’t hate anything; even the villains aren’t hated just need help to reform. He’s always quick with a joke or retort. Not above fart jokes or the ever ready your momma reference.

Peter knows that it’s probably for the best if his hero coworkers underestimate his age by ten years and a whole personality; it makes working at Stark Industries so much easier.

There he’s a normal if slightly higher than average intelligence scientist: which is normal in the Stark labs. But he has seven PhDs, a flawless track record of experiments and patents on inventions that have changed the face of super hero gadgets. He’s allowed to be odd, grumpy and wear ugly sweaters at all times of the year.

Peter Parker is a weirdo genius like all the other weirdo geniuses at the labs.

However he has built Spiderman as a joking, lighthearted, moral and fun loving hero that the people love; this means he gets talked down to or over on a regular basis. If it’s not web shooting, highflying acrobatics, joking around or catching the bad guys the avengers just assume he wouldn’t know what they’re talking about or just can’t do it.

...

After all of the weird alien blobs had been rounded up, shot with salt and the citizens safe Spiderman sat on the edge of the building the Quinjet was parked on; half listening to Tony and Bruce arguing about the chemical makeup of alien slime  and Hawkeye explaining to Wanda how packing shotgun shells with salt worked without contributing to either discussion. Mentally he’d usually argue back a different perspective but instead today he decided that he’d just admire the view and enjoy the cool evening.

“Hey kiddo you did good out there,” Natasha Romanoff slid down to sit beside him legs dangling over the thirty story drop. “Sorry about the gun thing. I guess I just assumed you’d be cool with it. I forget some people don’t like them or haven’t ever touched one.”

“Uh thanks,” Spiderman rubbed his neck nervously. Of course Peter had touched guns before; every employee of Stark Industries has mandatory self defence and weapons training just ‘incase’. Hell he’d designed better guns that shot cleaner and quieter; he’d even invented a sci-fi type blaster based on Tony’s own repulsors. “Yeah I’m the web guy not the gun guy.”

“Do you want to learn?” Black widow stared out at the city lit by emergency vehicles cleaning up after the attack. “Everyone needs to know how to defend themselves. Even web-kids.”

She smiled at the still masked young man to take the sting out of her words.

He laughed easily.

“I don’t need to defend myself in my everyday life. I’m just your normal mild mannered alter ego.” He shrugs face passive beneath the mask.

“What do you do in your everyday life?” The woman asked gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a mild mannered alter ego or someone with a normal life. I didn't think they could exist in this city.”

Spiderman laughed so hard his eyes watered. Not that she could see that. He couldn’t help himself.

“Sorry,” he gasped out. “But everyone in this city who isn’t a superhero, or in the line of fire, lives nice normal lives. We all have our own little stories that we’re the hero of but don’t include villains or world ending fights.”

“Well I know that,” she was turned away but Peter swore she rolled her eyes. “I just don’t know much about you Spiderman, not even your name. We’re teammates.”

“Not much to know,” Spiderman flexed his ankles over the drop. “I’m a photographer.”

He didn’t know where that came from.

He hadn’t taken more than the occasional photo in years but it still wasn’t a complete lie. He loved photography he just didn’t have the time anymore.

“Huh,” she mulled the idea over for a moment before grinning. “It suits you I should have guessed.”

“We’ve working together for years now why haven’t you super spied on me?” Spiderman cocked his head to the side.

“Oh we tried but you evaded us, so Fury decided to respect your secret identity,” she casually replied.

Spider-Man snorted.

“You mean you tried and once the next big emergency came up Fury forgot.”

The woman grinned back at him.

...

Later the same day Spiderman swung through the streets of Queens; his original haunt.

There was a convergence of alleyways on one particular block that he monitored consistently. Twelve entrances, one secret doorway and the perfect place to change from Spiderman to Peter Parker.

The doorway that looked like a blocked off delivery entrance to the cafe on the street actually led up a narrow staircase inside the building to the second and third floors where Peter kept his labs.

When he’d bought the building some years ago he’d remodelled under the guise of black mold removal; adding the staircase and secret rooms accessible from only his top floor apartment or the secret door at ground level. The other tenants had no idea about the hidden sound-proofed rooms or the secret identity of their odd landlord.

The only people who knew about his activities as Spiderman were his aunt May and best friend Gwen. His Aunt May, now in her sixties, had given up telling him to be safe as Spiderman some years ago and was now adamant that he take more risks as Peter.

Gwen on the other hand was travelling the world chasing after a man. Well a professor of astrobiology and leader in the study of alien materials, that have come to earth with the influx of attacks. But Peter was petty some times and knew it irked her when he phrased it that way.

By the time he entered his flat from his bedroom closet after checking his security system of cameras and any messages his security software relayed he was boring old Peter with a frumpy jumper, glasses and a very sophisticated widow’s peak that is most definitely not a receding hairline thank you very much he isn’t even thirty yet.

“Peter be a dear and fetch me a nice cup of tea will you?” Aunt May didn’t even turn her head as he strolled into the lounge room whisper quiet.

He smiled as he approached the back of the couch she was sitting on and dropped a kiss on top of her head.              

“Sure thing Aunt May,” he walked across to the adjacent kitchen switching on the kettle as he grabbed teabags and cups out.

“How was your night Peter?” She smiled over at him.

“Oh you know alien invasion, superheroes and fun times,” he waved a hand in dismissal. “Same as last month really.”

She smiled sadly making him wince. He knew she didn’t like him swinging across the city all the time but she hadn’t said anything against it in the last few years.

Apparently that was about to change.

Aunt May pulled herself carefully up from the couch gently setting aside her knitting. As she approached Peter prepared himself for a scolding.

“Peter sit down,” she put herself at one of the stool by the breakfast bar and nodded to the one in front of her. As he cautiously sat she pulled his hands to hers and held them tight. “My boy I think we need to talk.”

She stared at him with watery eyes and escaping grey hair in whisks around her lined face. He suddenly realised he couldn’t remember when her hair had turned more grey than black or when her gentle hands had become so wrinkled.

He swallowed hard.

“Oh my boy don’t look so scared,” she touched his face gently. “We need to talk about the way you’re living your life. I think I’ve held my tongue long enough and I won’t be here forever to take care of you.”

“Aunt May it’s not that dangerous being Spiderman,” he hedges but she held up a hand to stall him.

“It’s not Spiderman who is living dangerously but you Peter Parker.” She grabbed both his hands once again. “You aren’t living my amazing boy. You work and study and fill your hours with your tinkering but you stay safe in your ways and you don’t go beyond them. When was the last time you left the apartment for something other than work? As yourself or Spider-Man you only leave for work. You get groceries delivered and spend all your days in here. I haven’t seen you talk to anyone who isn’t myself or Gwen in years. Peter this isn’t the life I wanted for you.”

He pulled away and tried to laugh off her worry.

“Don’t be dramatic Aunt May it’s not been that long.”

“Tell me Peter because I’m not putting up with this anymore.” Her eyes turned hard and determined as she held his gaze. “When did you last leave the house for something other than work?”

He smiled at her as he thought to himself; it hadn’t been that long since he’d done something that wasn’t work. Just last week- no. Not last week.

Peter frowned thinking to himself; perhaps it was last month? No the last time he went shopping was for Aunt May’s last birthday. He’d bought her flowers and - no that was two years ago. He thought about the last time he’d bought clothes; online and always in a size too big so he wouldn’t need to get anything else. When had he last had takeaway food? Chinese delivered to his door three months ago.

He carpooled to get to work with a coworker who was just as grumpy in the morning as he was. They never spoke other than grunts and the exchange of cards to pay for coffee.

He only spoke to his coworkers about work, experiments and .... nothing else. He could barely remember anything about his coworkers except that Vernon was a passable physicist and Erica made coffee like an angel and could code like the devil. He couldn’t tell you who was married and who played sports. He don’t know anything personal about them or even their last names.

Peter stared into the eyes of his Aunt who loved him like a son and threw the harsh truths at him when he needed it.

“Gwen hasn’t been back to New York for two years Peter and last time she did come back you locked yourselves in the lab all weekend. Then she left again;” Aunt May got up and picked up a legal pad from beside her place on the couch shifting her knitting off of it. “I have to leave tomorrow morning, my sister is still sick and I promised I’d help her out. I want you to do at least half of the things on this list by the time I get back. Peter Parker it is time you started living again.”

Peter looked dumbly down at the yellow pad in his hands:

Eat out 10 times.

Go to the Zoo.

Buy your own groceries.

Walk somewhere.

Have breakfast at a cafe.

Take 1 photo everyday.

Make a new friend.

Don’t let SM have all the fun.

Don’t be alone.

“Aunt May this is-“ Peter laughed. “This is like a child’s list of things to do. What is this going to do? Why do I need to change anything?”

The woman smiled sadly at the young man in front of her. He knew she was right; he was set in his ways and had secluded himself. Hell even he could admit Spiderman was the more interesting half of his personality and that didn't even include the web slinging. But above all he knew she loved him more than anything in this world just the same as he loved her.

“Ok,” he whispered. “I’ll try. For you Aunt May.”

She leant over and kissed his cheek.

“That’s my boy,” she smiled eyes sparkling with affection. “And remember I’ll be back before Christmas! And you can update me on the phone about everything you’ve been up to.”

....

Aunt May left the next morning hopping on a plane with a skip in her step as she bid farewell to her nephew.

Peter spent the morning regretting his promise to his aunt; he stayed on the couch mindlessly staring at the tv.

He couldn’t find the energy or motivation to do anything other than lie there and think about all the years he spent studying and working; sure he had his PhDs but they didn't mean much where he worked, he wasn’t challenged intellectually.

Even as Spider-Man he didn’t let people know he was intelligent: he actively encouraged the avengers to think he was a juvenile and never engaged in any sort of discussion with them regarding anything further than the current mission. But he’d been fighting alongside them for five years now and every time one of them asked a personal question he deflected with a joke. He sighed again and slumped further into the couch. Perhaps he should just go to his labs and think about the stupid list tomorrow.

Before he could move his phone chimed at him.

He pulled it out and glared at the screen seeing himself reflected in the glass. Unlocking it he found a text from his tech savvy Aunt.

‘Send me a selfie. Proving you’re outside counts as todays photo! Got to Ellie’s safe love you xx’

He sighed and pulled himself off of the couch he’d walk down the street to the coffee shop on the corner. That way he could mark three things off at once and his Aunt would be happy.

Before he could move to collect his wallet and keys his phone chimed again in a different tone.

Avengers alert.

He’d modified his phone years ago so that messages sent to his secure number provided by Tony would bounce off of three cell towers before sending to his phone and bouncing off again.

He wouldn’t put it past the tech genius to try to track him but Peter had years of practice at avoiding detection.

‘Meeting at Docks. Alien tech scavenging. Intercept shipment leaving pier 23’

Huh.

Peter shrugged to himself with a half hearted smile; being Spiderman was his job: Aunt May couldn’t blame him if he was going to go out and got called in instead.

Back through his bedroom he changed quickly into his spandex suit sparing a brief thanks that his high metabolism has kept him slim in spite of his lethargic lifestyle. Out through the skylight he climbed and began his running and swinging path through the city. He made good time appearing on the rooftop just as Ironman, Black widow, Hawkeye and Dr. Banner stepped out of the Quinjet.

“Heya guys what’s happened?” He greeted cheerily as he strolled casually over.

Dr. Banner came over with a tablet and gave him the dumbed down run of what they were after. Pretty much catch the criminals so the smart people could contain the weapons and if he sees anything tell them so they can tell him what to do.

“So don’t touch alien radioactive materials that may cause mutations or addictive tendencies like the physiological response documented in 75% of test subjects by the Institute of Alien Matter Evaluation and Study of New York by Dr Richardson?” He asked blithely.

“Yes,” Dr. Banner replied slowly staring at him. “The research results from those dangerous fields are generally kept from public knowledge.”

“I know.”

Spider-Man strolled forward to scope out the docks. Hawkeye came up beside him and pointed to a ship with a tall mast that would work for a vantage point.

“I’ll be up there. If you get into trouble lure them out. Tony’s taking point and you’re going in with Nat and him. You’ll go in down the street here into the dock warehouses. Find the one the deal is going down in and bust it. Simple. Stay safe kid.”

“Let’s go!” Ironman led the charge since Captain Rogers wasn’t there. They split up at the edge of the warehouse. Tony would delay then come through the front doors while Spider-Man and black widow would loop around to the back and side entrances. They all had their comms open and ready. They’d done this a hundred times before but it always got Spider-Man nervous with excitement.

They passed through the shadows as silent as the spiders they were named for; infiltrating the shadowed area with efficient steps. The trackers he’d planted on his teammates gave him a heads up display of their locations in proximity to him. The sounds of a fight broke out further out of the warehouse close to where the tracker placed iron man. As the shouting and weapons fire lit up the shadows with abstract silhouettes Spider-Man crept forward while checking his heads up display. Unless Stark had suddenly noticed the tracker, unlikely after eighteen months of using the tiny arachnid shaped devices, then there was someone else in there starting a fight with the scavengers.

As he paced further into the warehouse Spider-Man picked up a higher voice with his enhanced hearing. He focused his hearing into the sound of... singing?

Shaking his head in disbelief he focused until the words came into focus. Someone was singing in the worst cheesiest voice..

“... you up! Never gonna let you down!” Sure enough Spiderman appreciated he’d kept some form of dignity with his superhero persona and hadn’t resorted to pop ballads.

The sound of a gurgling groan pulled the spandex covered hero further past a doorway to a set of rusted stairs that led to a balcony overlooking the main floor of the warehouse.

“This is Spider-Man I have visual,” he murmured into his comm knowing it would pick up the soft sound. “There is a man in red spandex with the dealers.”

On the floor below the dealers had a couple of spotlights set up next to shipping container and a couple of piles of packing crates; presumably filled with the contraband alien material.

“How’d you get in before me kid?” Tony’s voice grumbled across the comm link. “And don’t you mean another guy in red spandex? Maybe he’s a fan?”

“Uh nope not a fan,” Spider-Man pulled himself up on the railing and shot a web overhead to swing off of. “He just decapitated one of the guys we’re after. I’m going to stop him before he liberates anymore heads from bodies.”

A hand brushed his side as a warm body slid against him startling Spider-Man into almost jumping.

“Well then give me a lift for your dramatic entrance kid,” Widow winked and grinned as they swung off the balcony towards the unfurling scene of a katana vs gun showdown.

Dropping the leather clad woman on a tower of boxes above the dealers and their attacker Spider-Man did a flip through the air spinning his body to make use of the momentum and kick aside the red suited mans next victim into relative safety. In quick succession he shot the attacking man with webs binding his arms and legs against the shipping container he was standing next to.

“Oh thank you almighty spank bank gods,” the captured man moaned throwing his head back against the metal container. “My prayers of Astley are answered!”

“Who the hell are you?” Spiderman dodged a fist coming from behind as one of the alien matter dealers decided to take a swing. The red and blue hero effortlessly grabbed the fist and bound the mans hands together with webbing. “Rude man. Totally rude.”

His foot lashed out hitting behind his attackers knees causing him to tumble to the ground and be incapacitated.

To the side iron man landed firing missiles at the guns held by the surrounding men as a couple of them fell to the ground electrocuted. Happy his teammates had the bad guys under wraps Spiderman turned back to his captive.

Who was gone.

In his place was a scrap of paper with a phone number on it with a scribbled note that read ‘call me hot stuff xx’

Shaking his head Spiderman shoved the note in a small pocket under his web shooters and helped round up and rope together the smugglers. The paperwork that followed while in his spandex suit killed any and all adrenaline caused by the fight. By the time he’d jotted out the report on the Quintjet and waved goodbye all he wanted to do was go to bed. Swinging home he realised it wasn’t even full dark yet although the warehouse had been dark the sky still had some colour in it.

Stopping on a news station building he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the city skyline and send it to his aunt with the caption: Smugglers and paperwork. A+ Monday.

——