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Chapter Text

Peter bounced in his chair excitedly while eyeing the six lit candles on his birthday cake. Uncle Ben and Aunt Alexandra stood on the other side of the table. Ben held a genuinely happy and proud smile on his face, in contrast with the doll-like grin of his aunt. Her expression was that of an inanimate object; it was unemotional. She wasn't angry about being there, but rather looked like she'd rather be doing something else, like catching up on her crocheting. Of course, little peter didn't notice this about his aunt. He was too naïve.

Uncle Ben gently told Peter, "Make a wish, Sport."

The child seemed to think deeply on the subject, as if his choice was a crucial decision that everyone depended on. After a few more contemplative seconds, he thought to himself: 'I wish Mommy and Daddy would come back soon.'

With this hopeful thought, Peter blew out his candles in one big breath. The boy glanced proudly back up at his uncle, but the scene had changed.

Uncle Ben's face was twisted into that of pain and sadness. Honking cars, city lights, and a whispering crown surrounded them. Uncle Ben lay in the middle of it all, his life blood gushing from his torso. The 14 year-old Peter kneeled beside his Uncle and cried in despair, desperately clutching the older man's hand as if to anchor his to this life. If he loosened his tenacious grasp, his uncle would slip away.

"Petey..." his uncle gasped out,"I want you to remember..."

Peter shook his head furiously, "Uncle Ben, please, don't speak. Save your strength." Even with these encouraging word, traitorous tears fell from his eyes, fleeing as if knowing the inevitable truth.

Uncle Ben gave a tiny smile and minutely shook his head, "With great power... comes great... responsibility."

Ben's eyes closed and his hand went limp. The body Peter held suddenly became lighter and colder. The teen's eyes widened in realization and fear as tears now poured. His mouth opened wide and a shriek of anguish and despair filled the night.

Peter was suddenly alone both physically and mentally. He curled in on himself and sobbed. The oppressive air around him was suffocating.

A shadow loomed over him with glowing red eyes. He looked up in fear at the new presence. Even with the demonic features, he could easily recognize his aunt, Alexandra.

"It's your fault! He died because of you! You deserve what you're getting!" The shadow screeched malevolently before lunging at the cowering child. Peter screamed as his vision turned red and he was swallowed up by the shadows.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
Peter woke up with a gasp as his body made contact with the bedroom floor. The young teen groaned in pain and sat up, rubbing his sore shoulders. Last night had been a rough one for the boy. He was so tired when he got home, he hadn't even taken his entire costume off. Now he sat tangled in sheets at the side of his bed, clad in only the pants and shirt sections of his black and white costume.

Peter glanced up at his alarm clock: 7:00 AM. Time to get up. It was a Monday morning and he had to get to school in 50 minutes. He begrudgingly stood up and stretched briefly before going to his bathroom and washing any traces of sleep from his face. The teen then slipped into a black and red stripped shirt and a pair of darkly colored jeans. He grabbed his book bag and skateboard as well.

Peter was about to leave his room to go downstairs when he stopped, "Ah, almost forgot..." he commented to himself offhandedly before going back to his discarded costume and reaching into a hidden pocket in the suit. He pulled out a roll of cash and slipped it into his jeans pocket before continuing out of his bedroom.

As peter descended the stairs, he listened for any trace of his aunt. Satisfied at hearing nothing, he completed his journey and made his way through the kitchen and to the front door, hoping to completely avoid any confrontation.

He was so focused on escape, he didn't see the foot stick out from beside the refrigerator until he was upon it. The fall was so quick and unexpected, Peter found himself lying dazed on the ground, uncomprehending of what had just taken place. He was snapped back to his senses by the food being dug into the center of his back. He held back a whimper of pain, and only squeaked when a hand gently sifted through his soft, brown hair.

"Think you're getting off that easy, don't cha, Brat?" They harshly clenched the hair in their hand and roughly pushed Peters face into the floor. "You've got another thing coming, let me tell you. Now where's my money?" The female voice demanded as they went back to affectionately petting the teen's head.

"Y-Yeah, I have it..." Peter mumbled timidly. When he was in these situations, he found it was best to be compliant, silent, and straight to the point.

"Good, where?" She removed the foot from peters back and he reached into his jeans, grabbing and handing her the cash from earlier.

She counted it quickly before slipping in into her bra. She wore too little clothing, revealing her big breasts and smooth skin, both products of medical treatment. Her bright red hair along with her appearance did not reflect her actual age of 45. In short, she didn't look like she is very good a adulting, which hits pretty close to home.

"Good boy, keep it up now, ya hear? Your a real lifesaver kid, your uncle would be so proud you're stepping up as the breadwinner in his place. Now scram." The woman's sweet voice contrasted with her malicious personality. The personified sin turned around and with a steady gait went back upstairs. Peter watched her the entire way, sighing in relief once she was gone. At least she wasn't drunk, the last thing Peter needed was to miss any more school, and Monday's are her worse days.

The teen darted up and out the door. The faster he was gone, the better it was for his luck, he figured. Peter sighed in an attempt to ease his nerves. Deep down, he knew he shouldn't be taking this abuse, but even deeper down, he blames himself for it. It's his fault his uncle died. His fault this woman has no money, and his fault he was in this mess.

Meet aunt Alexandra, Peter's only living family.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Peter got to school with fifthteen minutes to spare. As soon as he entered the main lobby of his High School, Peter glanced around searchingly. He was anticipating the arrival of a certain black haired, pale skinned, blue eyed woman. Layla Bateman, the school counselor's fill in. Apparently the old one got together with a rich boyfriend and went AWOL so they found a substitute until they could get another permanent applicant. Since it's so close to the end of the school year though, just starting the third Trimester, it's likely they won't find that permanent stand in until next year. So Layla is stuck with us.

Or perhaps it's safer to say, Peter is stuck with her.

Between Peter's aunt, his 'job', and the bullies, Peter is constantly injured and thus weekly sent to the counselor's office. He was well acquainted with her, and she became a bit protective of him. It's obvious she suspects these injuries are from more than just bullying. But what exactly she thinks is happening is yet uncertain to Peter. There is a number of things the women could suspect. Peter just hoped she didn't ever learn the actual ones.

"Peter!"

Speak of the devil.

Layla had been leaving her office with a taller man with impossibly darker black hair, paler skin, and deeper blue eyes than the woman. It took a matter of seconds for her to spot Peter. When Peter looked at them, it was like seeing identical twins with different genders. Peter shuddered. He couldn't handle another Layla, one was enough.

Even so, Peter decided to comply to her call and went to join the two adults by the office doors. Layla rushed up to meet him halfway, being the ever excitable and impatient person she is. "Come on, we don't have all day Peter! Get a move on! I wanna introduce you to someone." Layla pressed him forward, lightly pushing him by his back. The woman's hands brushed against the bruise forming where his Aunt had stepped this morning and he flinched forward enough to be just out of her hands reach. Peter played it off as a sudden obligation to Layla's sense of haste when he said, "Okay, okay, I'm going." The teen added a humored smile to the guise for good measure. Layla showed no sign of noticing his discomfort, but Peter noticed a flicker of calculation in the man's eyes, which sent a pang of fear to his heart. He quickly pushed it away and completed the short walk to the taller man, Layla running up ahead again to sling an arm around the strangers shoulders.

"Peter, I want you to meet my husband, Richard Bateman." Her face shone brightly with an ever dazzling grin.

Mr. Bateman gave a warm smile as well, briefly comforting Peters former concerns. The brunette must have imagined the glimpse of analysis.

"It's very nice to meet you Peter, I've heard a lot about you. My wife has told me you are a very bright young man." He stuck out a hand for peter to shake.

"Thank you, sir, the pleasure is all mine." Peter exchanged the pleasantry while shaking the man's hand.

"I also hear you're being bullied. There's no shame in telling an adult you know. Any trusted grownup will help you, including myself if need be." Mr. Bateman said sympathetically.

Peter flushed at being called out, "Y-yes, Sir. I am aware."

"Don't forget that pesky clumsiness of yours, Peter. Speaking of, your nose is looking a little swollen. You haven't gotten into any fights today already, have you?" Her voice, while kind, firmly demanded an accurate answer. Not that it was a surprise, since Layla usually spoke in such tone.

"N-No. As you said, my clumsiness is legendary. I fell off my skate board on the way to school today." Peter gave the two older people a sheepish grin while rubbing the back of his head.

Layla took a minute to give Peter a long, curious stare. The younger have a nervous chuckle, which seemed to magically snap The woman back to normal. She made a 'hmm' and gave a satisfied nod and grin. "Well, be more careful. No need to mess up that big brain of yours with a concussion! Now get to class brat, before your late!"

Peter checked the time and gave a quick nod with a hasty goodbye before speeding off.

The two lovers were left in a quickly emptying hall as students scurried off to their respective classes. They waited for it to clear in silence. Once the only movement that could be seen was the closing of the last classroom door, Layla spoke, "Did you see that?"

"You'll have to be more clear." The atmosphere had gone completely serious.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." Layla rolled her eyes while she turned to fully face her husband.

"That flinch? Yeah, I saw it. But that could have been anything. This mornings accident perhaps."

"So what, he face planted on the street they suddenly did a 180 and managed to hurt his back as well? Yeah right." She placed a hand on his hip.

"You don't know if he had a different accident though. And it could be from bullying as well."

"Quit making excuses!" She shot a short glare at the taller man,"I've seen how he moves around. He's a bit agile and fast, he just doesn't show it. There's no way he could be as clumsy as he says. And for all those injuries he's always got to come from just bullying? I don't think so. Not unless the kid invites his bullies over for tea parties and says, 'hey! Why don't you all beat me to a bloody pulp! Sounds fun, right?'"

Now it Was Richard's turn to roll his eyes,"You're assuming a little to much, don't you think?"

"With that beaten down attitude he always walks around with? That's not the type of submissive air a bullied kid gives off, Richard."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He glared.

"I don't know! It's hard to explain." Layla gave a frustrated huff.

"You can't go jumping to conclusions like this Layla. It would be bad for business if you turned out wrong."

"Psh, what's S.H.I.E.L.D. care about what I do anyway?"

"An agent loses credibility when they go off on inaccurate assumptions."

"This isn't a mission, Richard."

"Exactly!" He threw his hands up in exasperation, "I don't understand why your even doing this, Layla. This isn't like you. You took this vacation to relax, not become a substitute counselor and get mixed up in the problems of some random teenager. Which is another thing I don't understand. I know your sense of heroism and justice. You always wanna look at the bigger picture. You would rather save the city than one random person. If you had to choose between saving a burning orphanage or a person being mugged, you'd choose the greater sum of people in a heart beat. You're always trying to make a significant difference with your skills. So I ask again, why are you so interested in this one teenager."

Layla glared off into space for a minute, "He... reminds me of myself."

Richard swallowed. "How much exactly?"

Layla stayed silent.

"Lay-"

"Dick."

The one word was enough to silence Richard. His wife only used that nickname when she had to get a point across. She didn't need to say any more. He read the message loud and clear. If that was the case, this is something Layla had to do. For her own minds sake, and the sake of the kid. She wouldn't let anyone else have to suffer like that.

"I see. So what do you plan to do?"

"He's a good kid. If he's doing anything illegal like I suspect, I'm sure he can get off with a warning, with the living conditions I suspect he's in."

"You really think an abusive household will get him off Scott free in court? Besides, what makes you think he's doing anything illegal?"

"Just a hunch. That, and I once found a popular mob's business card on him."

"Is that really sufficient enough?"

"Probably not."

"So basically you're grasping at straws." Richard crossed his arms and raised a brow.

"Yep!" Layla said with fake cheer.

Richard sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I guess we'll just have to deal with that later. What's your plan for getting his guardian charged for abuse and or neglect in the first place?"

"Peter's been to my office enough in the past couple months to raise suspicion. I've already called protective services. They'll do a check in within the week."

"So all that can be done now is wait?"

"Guess so. Everything now depends on what the service finds in that household."

"And the kid?"

"If we're lucky, and my assumption is right that whatever illegal business he may or may not be doing is forced, then he'll get away with a slap on the wrist and a spot in an adoption agency until he's taken in or gets old enough to go out on his own."

Richard nodded, "let's hope for the best."

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

"Look, I'm tellin' ya now, an' I'm not gonna say it again. Yer bein' let go."

"Please," a black costume clad Peter begged, "I really need this place."

"I ya needed us that bad, ya wouldn't have done everything so half-assed! I can have a weakling in ma crew. The boys have told me how you're never forceful with the hostages, and even have gone so far as ta protect people from your own on the jobs I send you on. I'm not running a Girl Scout regiment here. If ya can't be ruthless enough to do the job at any cost, ya have no business here. I especially can't have a lilly-livered kid blabbing on me to the police because you got a sudden sense of justice. Havin' ya here is more of a threat than it's worth." The Boss emphasized his point by smacking the rolled up newspaper in his hand on the desk he sat at. The office room Peter was in suddenly dropped in degrees.

"B-but-" Peter stuttered before being cut off.

"None of that. Yer lucky I'm even letting ya live. If ya wanna keep it that way, ya better keep yer trap shut." The man now unrolled his paper, showing Peter they cover page.

"Look on the bright side," The older man chuckled,"At least with all this popularity yer getting', findin' a new gig'll be easy."

The headline read: Mysterious Menace Strikes Again! : The Unseen Phantom of Crime Robs City Bank

Peter dejectedly gazes down at his feet covered in black cloth. His former boss excused him and he was led out of the hideout by two armed guards. Once he was left a block away from said crime base, he sighed.

That paper was news from yesterday. He had helped rob a bank the night before this one, or rather, 'Phantom' had. 'Phantom' is what the general public have taken to calling his bad alter ego. Peter didn't think calling him Phantom with the powers and costume he had was appropriate, but then he figured it made sense. Nobody had ever seen, heard, or taken any pictures of Phantom before. It's not like they could name him after his costume or powers if nobody knew what they looked like. Perhaps a ghost was the best namesake for him after all. It's not like Peter even wanted to be infamous at all anyway. He hated this job, and he would much rather be doing good with his abilities, but that wasn't an option. Peter had to get fast, over-the-counter money. If he didn't, his aunt would... he didn't like to think about it. Besides that, Peter was guilty. His aunt was never like this before Uncle Ben died, and if it wasn't for him, his uncle would still be alive. It was his fault Aunt Alexandra was like this now, and Peter was the one who had to take responsibility.

But now... Peter was out of a job, and tomorrow, or rather later this morning, was payday.

Last time Peter couldn't pay on time his aunt beat him. He hadn't been able to got to school the next day, even with his healing factor. It was thanks to his fast healing that he didn't miss the rest of the week.

Peter gave a shudder at the thought. He hated beatings. He hated not being able to defend himself from them. He couldn't risk being found out by his aunt. Nobody could ever know about these powers. No one could ever know about his unfulfilled responsibilities.

Peter of course wasn't broke though. He did have a large sum of money stashed in a secret spot a ways away. But he was exhausted. Peter doubted he would be able to make it there and back home without passing out, and it was already 2am. He figured if he made sure to avoid his aunt in the morning he could get to his stash after school and be fine.

With this plan in mind, Peter went home quickly. A long rest was in store.

Upon arrival, the teen noticed a black Dodge parked in the driveway. He also saw the living room lights on. Peter knew his aunt would not be happy if he disturbed her while guests were over, so he circled around back and stepped behind a tree that was placed right under his window. Peter changed back into his school clothes as fast as possible and with his backpack slung over his shoulder, began climbing the tree, using his powers as little as possible. He jumped into his open window as soon as he was close enough and was met with pitch black darkness. The boy threw his bag to the floor and started deeper into the room, only to flinch and stop when the light was turned on.

Aunt Alexandra was leaning against the doorway, her hand still on the light. She looked terrible. Her hair was a mess, mascara smeared, and face bright red. She glared and scowled when she saw her young charge. "Hey, Brat, where's my money?" Her voice was a nasty combination of venomous and scratchy. She was obviously higher than a kite.

"Uh... Aunt A-Alexandra, isn't it a little early for-"

Peter was cut off by a loud pound as his aunt hit the wall she had her hand on,"I don't give a f*ck, just give me the money! I have to pay my dealer and I'm short." The words were shouted.

Peter cringed away, knowing he was in for it now. "I-I'm sorry, I don't have it yet."

Her eyes flashed in anger, "The f*ck have you been doing all night, ya little sh*t?! Whatever, doesn't matter, Ricardo is gonna be p*ssed. This is all your fault! Now what the hell am I gonna do..." she suddenly trailed off in thought.

Peter saw her quickly glance him over, "He did say he had a thing for young brunettes... as long as orientation doesn't matter..." She muttered to herself. Peter, even with enhanced hearing, barely picked it up.

"F*ck it, you-" she pointed at Peter, "Keep your a*s put. Your gonna get me that money one way or another." As she stormed off, Peter swallowed nervously, almost letting out a whimper.

He did not like the implications of that statement.

Chapter Text

Richard groggily looked at the alarm clock beside him and grumbled at seeing the early morning hour. It took a second for him to fully process his thoughts, and once he had he wondered to himself why he had woken up. His thought was answered when he saw the shivering form of his wife beside him.

Richard sighed. Layla's been having nightmares most of her life, and these past few months had been particularly bad. She had them almost every few days. The worst part of these nightmares was that there was no waking you the happy-go-lucky woman during them. He could only wait for it to play out, then be there when she woke up.

And wait he did. Richard watched despairingly as his wife whimpered, sweat, and tossed around in her disturbed sleep. Not ten minutes later the girl shot up with a gasp, tears gathering at her wide eyes.

Layla quickly rubbed at her face with the sleeves of her nightmare, trying to erase all evidence of it ever taking place. Richard wanted to comfort his significant other, but knew better than to touch her when she woke from a nightmare. He had to give her some time and space, or it would end badly.

As Layla composed herself, Richard, who had also sat up, questioned softly,"Which was it this time?"

Layla rubbed her head, "I-I've never had this dream before."

The man sighed again, "So we have another to add to the list? Damnit, why now? These dreams haven't plagued you for years, and they suddenly come back when we're on holiday? What was it about, Layla?"

"That's the weird part," Layla met her husbands eyes, "It was something that never happened to me. I wasn't even in it, I was just watching... it was someone else, he was hurting, crying. I was trying to get to him, but the closer I came the further he got. I never even saw him clearly. Dick... I-I have a really bad feeling... I need to see Peter! I don't feel good. I'm worried." Layla jumped off the bed and started towards the bedroom door.

"Layla, W-Wait! Peter? The kid you've been investigating? Slow down!" Richard jumped off the bed a quickly blocked Layla from leaving the room.

"Get outta my way." She growled.

"No! Have you gone crazy!? What are you planning on doing? Just busting into his house on the slightest whim that he might be in trouble that you got from a dream?" He asked sarcastically.

"If that's what it takes!"

"And what if you're wrong? And then SHEILD catches wind of your recklessness? You'll lose credibility!"

"I don't care." Layla glared at her husband.

Richard sighed, seeing that there was no way he was gonna change her mind. "Layla, do you even where this kid lives?"

This silenced the irritated woman.

Richard rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "I figured as much."

Layla visibly deflated, staring solemnly at the floor.

Seeing his wife's depression, Richard rubbed the back of his head and grimaced slightly at what he was about to say, "Hmmm... tell ya what, how about we just go back to sleep now and if Peter isn't in school tomorrow, I'll use some resources to find where he lives. Then we can go there together to ask about him. Deal?"

Layla smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

"Good." Richard yawned, "Now let's get back to sleep. I'm beat."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

When Peter woke up the next morning, he felt dirty, so, being wary not to run into his aunt, he took a shower. He turned the settings as hot as it would go and scrubbed until his skin turned a raw red. The scalding water didn't help much either. Peter turned the water off not 20 minutes later and wrapped a towel around his waist before racing back to his room and locking the door behind him.

Peter plopped down into his desk chair and sighed before putting his head in his hands. The back of his eyes stung, and he choked down a sob. He refused to cry. Peter had to be strong. He needed to figure out what to do next.

The teenager inspected his burned skin closely. It wasn't any worse than a sunburn, and it would heal by the end of the day, but it still hurt. Peter decided he would just leave it be, rather then use anything to soothe the burn. He didn't want to go looking for anything right now. He couldn't cross his aunt.

Aunt Alexandra. Peter scowled. How dare she allow this to happen? All Peter ever did was try to appease her. He would always try to make up for Uncle Ben's absence. But one little slip in the schedule, and he was reprimanded harshly; illegally. Peter didn't understand what he did wrong. Why his aunt couldn't just love him.

Because you killed Ben. Her misery is your fault. You deserve to be treated like the beast you are.

Peter shook the evil thoughts from his mind. He knew he didn't deserve the love of his aunt after what he did, even if he wished it. That doesn't mean he deserved... that.

Peter glanced at his bed, but immediately looked away again. He didn't want to remember. He didn't was to be near it. Near the place where-

Peter abruptly stood. He was late for school, but that didn't matter. He didn't plan on going today. Maybe not even for the rest of the week. He had to get away. He had to cool down, to think. Until Peter had some alone time, he couldn't confront his aunt.

The boy quickly slipped on his costume, the one the public dubbed 'Phantom'. He dumped his school supplies onto his desk and packed a few changes of clothes into it, enough to last a few days. He went to his closet and pulled out a shoebox on the top shelf, where he had hidden all the leftover money from his 'jobs'. Peter had been doing that work for a little more then a year now, and had a new task every few days or so. He estimated he had done about 150 of his little assignments. Subtracting what his aunt took, Peter had anywhere between 100-200 dollars left over from each pay, depending on the difficulty of what he had did. He had about 1000 dollars stashed away in his room, and adding that to the approximate 20,000 he had hidden in a broken down and undisturbed house next to the city public park. Peter know he would be able to survive off of the money for awhile, thus had no qualms with his leaving home. The teen still didn't know how long he would hide out for, but at least he wouldn't be starving in the streets.

Peter grabbed his phone, its charger, toiletries, and a few other necessities, shoved them in his bag, and opened his window. He looked around before climbing out and leaping onto a tree limb that was placed just outside the window.

Making sure not to be seen by anybody, Peter made his way out of Queens and throughs the city, hiding on buildings and moving through alleyways to get to the Central Park. Once safely inside his new hideout, he was able to relax his tensed body. Not that the boy was comfortable. The burns from earlier were still stung, and while he was no longer any tearing, he was still... sore.

Peter hid his extra 1000 with the rest of his money on the top floor of the house. The house was has 2 stories, a basement, and an attic. It was extremely old fashioned and was a dirty and chipped white color. Uncontrolled vegetation and vines had climbed up the side of the house, giving it a majestic appearance. The small neighborhood it was in was full of other similar old houses, where only the extremely elderly still lived. The only reason this neighborhood even existed in the city was because a bunch of rich people who grew old decided they wanted to stay in their childhood homes. Back then, the houses would be mansions compared to what common people lived in. The people around here considered the dwellings architectural masterpieces that were valued as "historical treasures." That fact was the only reason the place Peter was in now wasn't torn down years ago. After all, the building was something of a safety hazard. Nobody had lived in the place for almost 30 years, at least that's what the ownership history said. It was likely a hideout for the homeless before Peter had found it. It was probably abandoned even by the desperate because the rotting wooden floors creaked with every step and there was already a few areas within the house that had caved. A normal person would surely get hurt in such a place. It was a good thing Peter was anything but normal. He was able to use his spidey sense to avoid structurally unstable areas and could tread gracefully enough to make minimal amounts of noises. Peter was glad he was so prepared, of course, he never expected this to happen, but it's a good thing he was ready.

Peter sighed.

What do I do now?

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"He wasn't at school today."

Layla clutched tightly to the phone in her hand. Her husband on the other line hesitated before answering.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!" Layla said irritably,"I even went to the main office asking about him, spouting some excuse on needing to talk to him, and they said he had an unexcused absence in all of his classes. Nobody called him in and he didn't attend any classes."

"Could he be skipping?"

"He doesn't skip school. He's a good kid."

There was a sigh on the other line,"Yeah, I'll agree with you on that one in the least. Fine. We'll stop by his house to check on him. Give some excuse on needing to talk about his grades or something. But Layla, if he is okay, please, lay off on the kid a bit. Please. From what I've seen, your practically smothering the poor boy. Your getting to obsessed. It's honestly unhealthy and I'm worried about you. So if Peter is fine, if you are really just paranoid, promise me you'll give it a break. Even if only for a little bit."

"Fine. I promise. But, if I'm the one who's right here, you have to swear to help me. You have to dedicate yourself to helping as much as I have. Deal?"

"Layla, if your right about this, you won't need to hold me to a promise to make me help. I would do all I can if that's the case. Just because I'm skeptical of his abuse in the first place, that doesn't mean I'll allow it upon being confirmed of its presence. I hate domestic abuse just as much as you. I'm just more realistic in the approach than you are. It's a deal."

"Thank you." Layla's tense shoulders visibly relaxed at her husbands confirmation of assistance.

"The kid lives in Queens. It's XXX street and the house number is XXX. Wait for me to get there."

"Okay, see you there. Goodbye."

"See ya"

That is how the two adults later found themselves outside of Peter's house, knocking on the front door. They waited a few minutes and knocked again. Layla almost knocked a third time when the door was thrown open.

"Whadda ya want?"

The woman in front of them was a mess. Her makeup looked like it was done by a 3 year old and her hair wasn't brushed. She must have just woken up.

The initial shock of the display in front of the couple passed and Layla cleared her throat. "Hello, we're from Peter's school, are you his guardian?"

The woman glared at Layla, "yeah... wat of it?"

"Well, he wasn't at school today and also wasn't called in. Do you know where he is?"

"Tha lil' brat... darin' ta skip out on school. I don' know where he is. All the shit's been doin' lately is causin' me trouble. Now go away." The woman's voice was an angry grumble, and she slammed the door in their face as soon as she finished her rant.

The two simultaneously blinked.

"Well, wasn't she just a ray of sunshine..." Richard rolled his eyes.

"And not to mention completely hungover. There is no way you can't believe this is a domestic abuse case after seeing... that." Layla motioned pointedly to the door.

"While that couldn't prove anything, I'll admit I'm more susceptible to the idea." Richard partially agreed.

Layla gave a large, shit-eating grin, "That's good enough for me! Now let's go!" Layla practically marched away from him.

"Uhhh... Dearest, the car's that way." He pointed the opposite direction of where she was headed.

Layla snorted. "Who said I was going back to the car? I'm not finished here yet!" Layla stopped to quickly glance around before dashing behind the house.

Richard's eyes widened in a comically horrified manner before he also glanced around and ran after his wife. When he caught up to her she was already halfway up a tree in the backyard.

"Layla! What the hell do you think your doing!?" He whisper-yelled up to her.

"That woman is hiding something! I'm gonna find Peter." She spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and pointed up to an open window on the second floor. "Now are ya coming or what?"

Richard groaned in an almost whiny manner before glancing indecisively between the tree and the street where the car was parked. He made his decision and began climbing the tree. "We are so getting fired..." he complained.

"Shut your trap, I'm already level with the window. Look, there's even a tree limb that goes right up it. It this isn't a sign, I don't know what is." With that, she climbed into the window and disappeared from sight.

Richard was level with the window when his spouse poked her head back out, "Hey, I think this is Peter's room! Help me look around!"

Richard climbed in. "Look for what? The passage to a secret torture chamber? Blood splattered on walls? A body?"

"Nobody likes sarcastic negativity, Dick." Layla rolled her eyes.

"Well, what do you expect to find? This is just his bedroom. He's not even here." Richard leaned against the wall between the bed and the desk, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"I don't know, just look around. Maybe there's something that could tell us where he is, like an open webpage for bus schedules or a train ticket receipt." Layla looked on the desk for a computer but only saw a messy and haphazard pile of notebooks, folders, and paper. Layla opened one of the folders on top of the pile and looked at the top paper. "Hey Richard, this is an assignment due to be turned in today! This stuff must be all his recent school supplies! It looks like it was all just dumped onto his desk, but why..." Layla gave a gasp, "He was emptying his backpack! He must have needed room it it to pack stuff! I bet he was running away. But why now? And why so suddenly? He could have done this anytime, and at a better day, like the weekend where he would have more time to get away before being noticed. Plus there's the fact that it looks like this room was left in a rush. What would make him spring into action so suddenly? I've known Peter long enough to know that he thinks through things carefully before acting on them. He isn't a spontaneous person."

"Your getting an awful lot of ideas based on a pile of notebooks and folders." Richard stated dryly.

"Shut up. I don't see you helping out any." She snapped back.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it."

Although Richard could agree with his love on one thing. It did look like Peter had left in a hurry. The pile on the desk most certainly looked like it had been just dumped out of a backpack. Not only that, but the rest of the room was in a hurried disarray. Random articles of half folded laundry lay at the foot of a dresser where a drawer was half open. The closet door was ajar, an empty shoebox sitting in the threshold. The bed wasn't made, the comforter lay in a crumpled heap in the middle and part of it was strewn on the floor. The pillow lay almost a yard away on the ground next to the foot of the bed. The disorganized and rather chaotic room almost made Richard grimace. But, this was a teenager they were dealing with after all. It was to be expected.

Richard glanced back at his wife. The woman was still shifting through the mess on the desk, mumbling to herself about how a teenager could have such neat handwriting without trying. I huffed softly in laughter. Layla's handwriting resembled hieroglyphics, and only became legible when she had to write on an official document. When that happened, it took her forever to write even the simplest thing.

Richard glanced at the window, seeing that the sun was sinking and it was getting late. They would have to leave soon, whether Layla liked it or not.

Then something caught the man's eye in his peripheral vision. It was minuscule, and he had glanced over it before, but now it stood out like a turd in a punch bowl.

On the light blue and white stripped sheets, under the similarly colored comforter, a little rust colored stain poked out. Cocking his head, Dick pushed off of the wall and walked over to the bed. He paused in front of it and pulled his hands out of his pockets before lifting the blanket to inspect the bed.

What he saw had him taking a shuddering gasp, his eyes dilating and his body tensing up. His fist clenched as he pulled the blanket away more and lay down the folded over part.

"Layla..."

"What is it this time?" She didn't take her eyes off what she was doing, nor did she turn around.

"Call protective services. And while your at it, the police too." The voice Richard spoke in was serious and dull.

"What...?" Layla turned around, and when she saw the bed, she practically growled, clenching her teeth to prevent the sound. A cold aura practically radiated from the women.

"She's going down. I'll bring her to justice."

Richard agreed, and would fully support and assist his spouse in her objective. The decision didn't take any time. It was made for him the moment he processed the large mess of burgundy and white stains spread over the sheet, painting a horrific image of abstract crime.

Chapter Text

"Why did you bring me here?! Hello! I know you can hear me!" The messy, blond woman was practically screeching like a cockatoo from inside of the interrogation room. She wore only a stained tank-top and not-so-school-friendly shorts. The cops that had brought her in cuffed her hands to the armrests of the chair because she had put up unreasonable amounts of resistance. She had been ranting and raving in the direction of the one-sided glass for the past 30 minutes.

Police Chief Stacy wanted to roll his eyes at the display, but chose to remain professional. "So, may I ask why exactly a domestic case is the business of two SHIELD agents?" He spoke to the man and woman standing beside him, who were also watching the woman.

"I've been investing Peter Parker for a few months now, Sir." Layla stated.

"Really? Your base of operations is interested in this family?" Stacy looked skeptical.

"No, the task was self-assigned." Layla continued to remain as professional as she could.

"Oh, I see, so you illegally broke into this woman's home to complete a pretend investigation? You couldn't wait for proper procedure? Or at least a permit?" The chief seemed upset now.

"I realize it was unprofessional, but-"

"I could have you two arrested. I should be reporting this to your supervisor." Stacy rubbed his hand over his face in exhaustion.

"With all due respect, Sir, I did not go looking for this case for fun. I met Peter Parker through a part-time job as a counselor at his school. Excuse my misconduct, but I couldn't just stand by as a child came into my office everyday with a beaten-down attitude and new injuries." Layla placed an emphasis on a few choice words to get her point across.

"The mere fact you know Peter compromises your judgment."

"Mr. Stacy, I know for a fact you have a daughter, Gwen Stacy. She's in Peter's class, they're both fifthteen. You of all people should know what it's like worrying for them. Peter's gone, and this woman is the only clue we have of finding him." The woman looked him straight in the eye with a dogged persistence.

"Mrs. Bateman, I can't just-"

"Please."

Layla had cut off the police chief. He looked between the couple. The man sighed and rubbed at his face again. He seemed to be having a brief internal struggle.

"Fine. Fine, you have 15 minutes. Off the charts. But I want a full briefing of anything you find out faxed to my office within the next hour, got it? Now you better get in there. Your time starts now." Stacy left the room after pressing a few buttons on the counsel by the door.

"Let's go." Layla shot a grin towards Richard as he stepped forward to follow her. She steeled her expression again as she opened the door to the questioning room.

"It's about time you idiots showed up. I demand to know what the hell gives you the right to keep me here! Where's my lawyer?" Came the delightful greeting as Layla and Richard entered.

"Why? Well, for starters, we can charge you for possession of illegal substances, child neglect, and felony tax evasion, among other things. Your under investigation of child abuse, forced child labor, child prostitution, assisted trade of illegal substances... shall I go on?" The woman rolled her eyes and glared at the mess in front of her.

Alexandra glared and growled, "That's quite enough, thanks."

Richard began, "Good, we just have a few questions to ask you, so-"

"There isn't a snowball's chance in hell I'm saying anything to you." Alexandra stated.

"Look, if you don't talk now, chances are you'll get off even worse in court." Layla reasoned. Though, the woman had no intention of allowing Peter's guardian to have anything relatively close to a forgiving sentence.

"I want my lawyer."

"You must have some idea of where Peter could be. We just want to find the boy. He could be hurt." Richard added.

"Well, I don't, okay? I have no clue where the brat could be, nor do I care."

The couple spent the next thirteen minutes trying, and failing, to get the woman to talk.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Peter stared unseeing ate the wall above his make-shift bed.

Ten days after Peter had retreated to his new hideout, and he was still no closer to working through his problem. Granted, he hadn't really bothered thinking about what his aunt had done yet. It brought back less than pleasant memories. At this rate, Peter didn't think he would ever return home. This thought didn't bother him as much as it should have. Maybe it would be better if Peter Parker just disappeared? After his aunt got out of jail(Peter had heard the police were keeping an eye out for him so he could testify what happened with his aunt) she wouldn't have to worry about Peter being around anymore. He figured his aunt wouldn't have too long of a sentence, since there wasn't much they could charge her for. Maybe prostitution and drugs possession, but Peter didn't know of much else. Once she got off her sentence, or maybe someone would bail her out, she could get a job. Maybe the new responsibilities would set her straight. She'd get a small place with her steady income and maybe even date again. She could be happy again.

Peter figured it was the least he could hope for. After all, if Peter had just stopped that robber, Uncle Ben would still be alive, and Aunt Alexandra and himself wouldn't be in this mess.

Peter sighed. There was no point in living in the past. What's done is done. All the teen could do now is stay in hiding and hope he wasn't found.

On the bright side, Peter had gotten into a pretty decent routine after the week and a half of living in the old house. Speaking of which... Peter checked his phone, it read 7:21. The teen got up and changed into one of his few pairs of clothes. He needed to go to a laundromat soon, he noted mentally. Not ten minutes later, Peter grabbed a few bucks and headed out of the house, making sure, as always, that nobody was around to see him.

Peter walked through the park and into the city business area on the other side. At 8:00 Peter arrived at a public bathing house, one which he had been going to everyday for the past week.

After bathing, Peter walked to a cheep Cafe across the street, where he ordered some eggs, toast, and coffee. After eating, he headed home. On his walk back through the park, he passed by a blonde-haired, blue-eyed jogger, one who he had passed everyday at about 9:00 AM.

As soon as Peter got back to the house, he napped and lounged around for the next three hours. He made a PB&J sandwich with the few food items he owned, which was so petty because he had no means of refrigeration.

At 12:30, Peter left the house again. For the next seven hours, he spent his time at the park, walking, at the library, at stores, and in several other places. Then he went back home again and rested.

Through this entire daily routine, Peter was wary of any and all security cameras. He used his spidey sense to avoid as many as he could, and for the ones that were impossible to stay out of sight of, he would casually turn his head in the other direction, so it wouldn't see his face. Peter knew it was unlikely the police would go as far as to check cameras while looking for him, but he would rather be safe than sorry.

Peter looked at his phone clock, and it said it was almost nine. Peter smiled and slipped into his black and white costume, preparing for the final part of his daily routine. This was also his favorite part. It had gotten dark almost two hours ago and now the city and the moon were the only sources of any light.

Peter was about to leave the house when there was a sudden crash coming from downstairs. Peter startled slightly, not expecting the routine to be interrupted like this. He was on the second floor, and the sound came from the first. Deciding it would be quieter than the floor, Peter jumped onto the ceiling and crawled downstairs quickly, keeping to the shadows. What Peter saw didn't really surprise him.

It was a group of three teenage boys, all probably around his own age.

"Holy crap, Alex, could you be any louder? I don't think the whole neighborhood is awake yet." A brunette yelled at a blond, whose name was, apparently, Alex.

"Well sorry, your highness. Not everyone can be as graceful as you, Ninja sensei." Alex added heavy layers of sarcasm to his voice as he gave a mock bow.

"Hey, nitwits, now is not the time to argue. We have a bet to finish, and I plan on getting my share. If you want yours, quit being useless." The black-haired boy scolded the other two as he inspected the stairs to the basement.

"Tch- Harry doesn't care about the money. His rich daddy gives him all that he desires. He just wants to show the girls at school that he actually has some balls. His man pride was damaged at Lucy's party when-" Alex was cut of as the brunette, Harry, grabbed the collar of his shirt.

Harry growled, "Why I ought to-"

"Hey!" The yet-to-be-named boy yelled, "Break it up, Bone heads!" He got in the middle of the other two boys and pushed them apart.

"He started it..." Harry grumbled.

"I don't care who did what, I just wanna get the job done and get out. Do you know how mad my parents will be if they see I left? I'll be dead, so quit wasting time! Now get out the video recorder. I've got the flashlight." The black-haired boy, apparently the leader, said.

"Sorry Jack." Alex and Harry said in unison.

"Good." The newly dubbed Jack approved. Then he turned on the flashlight. A bright, LED light was suddenly shining on Harry, who was shuffling through his bag to get the recorder.

In the new light, Peter recognized the boy's as people in his grade. He never really talked to them, or anyone, for that matter, but they were never particularly mean to Peter either. Harry pulled out a black device, and pushed a few buttons on it. "We're recording. I have night vision on."

Jack shined the flashlight around the room. Luckily, he kept the beam of light trained on the floor, otherwise, his position on the ceiling may have been exposed. Even so, Peter crept a little further back. He couldn't risk being spotted.

"So, do you guys really think this place is haunted?" Alex asked quietly.

"Nah, ghosts aren't real," assured Jack, "And anyway, we're here to prove this old place isn't haunted."

Peter smiled to himself. So that's why they broke in. He understood how this place could be creepy, and he couldn't really blame them for wanting to check it out, but he also couldn't allow them to wander around in here. If they found anything, like his clothes or unsoiled foods, he would be busted. Peter knew he would have to get the three boys out, the question is, how?

After a moment, the teen decided he would have to scare them out, but that was taking a big risk. If he scared these boys out, odds are hoards more children will come flocking in to test their bravery in the 'haunted house'. Peter knew he couldn't have that happening. He would have to make sure the boys knew not to come back.

Then again... Peter could just quickly hide all of his belongings, kick some dust around, and let his classmates do their thing...

But where's the fun in that?

Peter quietly followed them into the kitchen, where they seemed to have opted to go first. They shined the light around the room, and Jack looked into a few cupboards. Harry and Alex were preoccupied with messing with the stove to see if it would light. Peter knew the stove could in fact turn on, but only the gas, you had to use a lighter to actually start a fire. The two boys didn't know this, so when they turned the knobs, they were leaving the gas on and letting it flow freely into the room. Peter rolled his eyes. It was a good thing he was here, otherwise these boys would be a danger to themselves.

Peter shot a web at one of the cupboards behind Jack, and it closed with a loud slam. The three teens jumped, "What was that?" Alex exclaimed is surprise.

Jack had already spun around and pointed his flashlight towards where he heard the noise, but didn't see anything. The blackette scoffed, "It was probably just a draft, this house is so old, it's a wonder the wind hasn't just blown it over already."

The other two teens nodded their agreement, albeit a bit uncertainly.

Peter took this opportunity to turn off the gas stove,  since the teens were distracted. With that the three moved on to the dining room, which was in the same area as the kitchen, but the tiled floors let to hard wood, separating the one room into two. From the dining room, you could get back to the living room by passing right in front of the stairs, you could go to the washing room, or the downstairs bathroom. Peter was glad he hadn't gone into that bathroom yet, as a layer of dust coated everything. Including the mirror. This gave Peter an idea.

Peter climbed across the wall and into the bathroom. He quickly scrawled something into the dust on the mirror. As the boys were investigating the washing room, he gave a loud knock on the mirror and hid in the bathroom closet.

"Did you hear that? I think it came from the bathroom."

"Lets check it out."

These three couldn't be more of a cliche.

The three walked into the bathroom a moment later. Jack shined the light around the small room, and gasped when it fell onto the mirror.

"Holy- what the-!?" Jack cut himself off in his own surprise, for written one the mirror was two words: GET OUT. The think that was weird, was the word was written backwards, as if someone had written it from the other side of the mirror.

"You know... maybe this isn't worth twenty dollars..." Jack began. Harry and Alex nodded in feverish agreement. With that, the three ran out of the bathroom, past the stairs, and back into the living room. Peter chuckled to himself as he silently followed them. Seems his classmates were smarter than he had originally thought.

Peter had made the thought too soon, though. He mentally cursed when Harry tripped near the collapsed part of the floor and fell on some week boards. The brunette screamed as he fell through the floor. Peter acted quickly, projecting himself downwards and webbing up the place below where Harry was falling. The web was a little to low though, and while it did slow the fall, it didn't completely stop the impact. Harry was groaning in pain. It was nothing serious, but he would definitely feel it in the morning.

"Harry! Are you okay!?" Shouted Alex.

"Yeah... but I'm stuck in a bunch of sticky crap. My arms are too trapped to tear loose." The teen responded.

"Hang tight, we're gonna come down." Jack assured and the remaining teens went off in search of the stairway down, meanwhile, Peter remained in hiding.

Peter simply watched as the two teens helped their friend onto his feet, up the stairs, and out the door.

Peter decided that was both the strangest and most anti climatic thing to ever happen to him.

Peter looked at his phone: 9:30. That hadn't taken too long. Peter could still finish the final part of his routine. His new favorite pass-time.

He exited the house and began his patrol.

The public had forgotten Phantom in favor of the new vigilante in town. The vigilante that while never caught on video or camera, was seen enough to give a decent description. The new hero in town often left a calling card at the scene of all his deeds.

'Courtesy of your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man'

Chapter Text

If Peter had known what would happen to him on patrol that night, he would have never left home. Perhaps that little break-in incident was really an omen of what was to come. A sign that trouble was approaching.

Too bad Peter, now Spider-Man, wasn't a prophet, because if he was, he would have never tried to save that man who was being "mugged."

And, as just stated, Spider-Man swung down into the alleyway where a scrawny, short man was being beaten on by two much bigger ones.

"Hey!" Peter shouted from behind the men, and they spun around simultaneously. One of the men was wearing a hat, the other a ski mask. "Why don't you pick on someone who is mildly shorter and much scrawnier than you!? Gosh, what happened to picking on people your own size?" Peter pondered as he shot a web at the hand of the man with the ski mask. The spider vigilante yanked on the web and the man came flying forward before his face intercepted with spidey's fist.

"Also, didn't you know it's rude not to introduce yourself to your guests?" Spider-Man grabbed the collar of his shirt and ripped the mask off of him. He took a fleeting glance at the bald man's face that was twisted with a scowl, "Holy shniggle diggle, you are one ugly duckling. Ya know what? No introduction needed, you can have this back." Spidey chucked the mask into the man's face and shot a web at his ugly mug to keep it there. He then threw the older man at the wall and webbed him there, immobilizing him.

"Man, I hope you have better manners than that guy." Peter now spoke to the man with the hat while indifferently thumbing in baldy's direction. Hat dude backed away as the black clad hero took a few steps towards him. The other of the two thugs stumbled over a metal pipe, which he picked up and held out in front of him defensively.

"Now, lets have none of that. You wouldn't hit a guy with eye lenses, would you?" Peter shot a web at the pipe and tore it away from the man before webbing him to the wall behind him. When hat dude started shouting out profanities, Peter webbed his mouth shut.

"Language!"

Peter webbed his calling card to baldy's bindings and was about to turn around to leave stick man called out, "Wait!"

Spider-Man turned around to face the speaker.

"W-Who are you?" The man, looking to be in his early 20's, asked. His eyes were wide with shock.

"Who, little old me? I'm your friendly neighborhood Spider-" The hero's proclamation was cut of by the young man.

"No, I know that already. But... you just sound so young, like my kid I got back home. Who are you? If your really as young as you seem... don't you have a life outside here? One you should be more. Concerned about?" The man now looked slightly worried.

The teen laughed awkwardly, ignoring the last couple questions. Slightly deepening his voice, he answered, "Telling you my name kinda defeats the purpose of a mask, dontcha think? Besides, a rose by any other name is just as sweet, right? Or... something like that. I gotta swing though, so-" Peter was cut off again, but this time by himself. His Spidey sense blared in his head, and he barely had enough time to shoot a web at the man and pull him towards himself, away from the flower pot that shattered on the pavement seconds later.

"Dang, buddy, you have really bad luck." Spidey chuckled, but stopped when his spidey sense went off again. The man was too close to him, and Spider-Man's guard was down. It was too late for our favorite arachnid to dodge the syringe that was now lodged into his bicep.

Spider-Man backed away from the other guy as fast as possible, ripping out the syringe and throwing it to the side. He glared at the traitorous man, and was momentarily surprised at how quickly his expression had changed from concerned to a blank mask, one even more impenetrable than his own.

"You really are gullible. Thank you, Spider-Man, for making my job so easy. It has been a pleasure working with you." He drawled.

"Wh-What did you do... to me?" Peter's vision was getting hazy and his voice slurred. The world seemed to be spinning faster, and the ground beneath his feet was shaking.

No, Peter thought absently, I'm the one who is shaking.

He fell to his knees and suppressed the urge to vomit as his stomach did flips from the dizziness he felt. The last thing peter heard as his vision began to fade and the thump of a body hitting pavement was, "Goodnight, Spider-Man."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~••~•~•~•

Layla banged her head on the apartment counter in a slow, lazy manner, not so much as to cause harm but more keep herself moving.

Richard sat at the table of their kitchenette for two. He sighed for what was probably the thousandth time this week.

"Layla, I know your worried about the kid, but there's nothing we can do about it. Hell, we can't even bring that aunt of his to court until we find him. He's a major witness of the case, without him, the files will just have to keep rotting in the court cabinet." Richard chided his wife.

"Don't you think I already know that, Richard?! I was there when you talked to the chief, you know. I know we are locked until we find Peter. I'm just frustrated that we're not doing anything about it! Here we are, lounging in our apartment, and he could be, I don't know, kidnapped!" Layla raged, pounding a fist onto the counter her face once inhabited.

"Have you checked the lead on that crime bosses business card?" He asked patiently.

"Of course I have," she walked over to her husband and plopped into the chair  across from him, "There's a double agent working as a leak in there. He accessed the files they had on workers. There was no Peter Parker listed."

"Could he have gone by another name?" Richard suggested.

"Maybe, but he would have needed a fake I.D. If he did go by another name, there's no way for us to know. The mole they have in that area would surely get caught if he spent the time cross referencing all the faces of the workers to Peter's" Layla said.

"So, what are we gonna do about it now? The case is at a dead end, and if Peter doesn't want to be found, he won't be. Plus, a runaway is hardly the government's top priority, so something tells me it's not for off from being dropped. Resources won't be so sparingly used for a domestic case." Richard commented.

"What do you mean, "what are we gonna do about it?" Aren't you gonna try to, I don't know, try to make me forget about it? You were trying to get me to not involve myself not that long ago!" Layla wasn't complaining about her spouse's newfound cooperation, but she was certainly curious about his change of heart.

Richard sighed, "I know I was skeptical before, but it's different now. The kid was raped, for god's sake. Only a monster wouldn't try to help him now."

"Are you telling me you'll support anything I do for the case?" Layla's grin turned feral.

Richard almost cringed, but he hesitantly ground out his answer, "Yes..."

"Great! Let's go break into Peter's room again!" Layla clapped her hands together and grinned widely, her eyes scrunched in delight.

Richard groaned, "I should known your first though would be to do something illegal... Why would you wanna go back there anyway? We've already searched his room."

"We could have missed something." Layla said like it explained everything,"We weren't even there for all that long, it wouldn't hurt to check again."

At that is how Richard and Layla found themselves sneaking back into Peter's house. They had climbed up the tree from before and forced the window open before climbing inside. The room looked like a classic crime scene. Caution tape blocked the doorway and the bed sheets had been pulled back in a way that wouldn't disturb the evidence too much, but also allowed the preliminary photographs to be taken. The couple pointedly ignored the bed and the smell of old blood in favor of looking around the room for a second time. Nothing had been disturbed save for the pile of notebooks and folders on the desk that were now neatly stacked on the desk in orderly piles.

Layla took a notebook and flipping through it. It was full of science notes, based on the particular formulas, most likely chemistry. She put it down and began looking through the math notes.

"What are you looking for in those?" Richard asked sarcastically.

"Some lose sheets, notes in the margins, I don't know. You often find clues where you least expect it." Layla comment dully, not bothering to look up.

Richard grumbled something about deja vu before picking up the next notebook on the stack. He flipped through it too, but stopped to stare at a page for a minute, "I didn't pin Peter as a fanboy."

"What do you mean?" Layla looked up this time, and Richard showed her the page he was on.

"Isn't this that Spider-Man guy? There is a bunch of sketches of him in here, and then some more of someone who looks kind of like the original, but with costume changes." Richard commented while flipping through a couple of the pages for his wife to see.

"Richard, these aren't sketches... these are design schematics! Like, the type clothes designers would make. But this is Spider-Man. Do you think Spider-Man and Peter are connected somehow?" Layla exclaimed.

"Now that you mention it, Spider-Man didn't start showing up until after Peter went missing... for him to have drawn these designs of a vigilante before he was even known about is pretty suspicious." Richard didn't seem to happy with this realization.

"Are you suggesting Peter is Spider-Man? If that was true, and he had some kind of mutant power, why would he just let himself be beaten?" Layla shot a glance at the bed with this.

"Who knows? He could be hiding his powers. Or maybe he isn't the vigilante, but just knows him? Hell, we might be completely wrong about his involvement with Spider-Man. Spider-Man didn't appear on paper too long before Peter left, so the kid might have just been saved once before the hero's popularity began. The boy sure gets into enough trouble to need saving." Richard sighed at the end of this.

Layla looked thoughtful, "So, if we find Spider-Man, there's a chance we find Peter? I think that's enough of a lead for me." Layla took the notebook from Richard and started back towards the window.

"Wait! Layla, we're stealing evidence from a crime scene. That's even more illegal than being here now!" Richard warned.

"I don't think we should tell anyone about this theory, Richard. Besides, I'm sure two SHEILD agents should be perfectly capable of following such an assumptive lead. I'm sure the police won't want to bother with it." Layla winked at Richard and exited the room through the window.

•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•,•,•,~•~•~•~•~•~

When Peter woke up to being dragged down a hallway by two men, he was not happy. Alas, to his growing disappointment, Spider-Man found that he couldn't move his body. He wasn't bound, all of his limbs were just limp and he couldn't do anything. He was guessing it was the work of some neuromuscular blockers or some other drug. Perhaps a verified version of Succinylcholine? Either way, Peter knew he would be helpless until it wore off. Hopefully, that time would be shortened thanks to his spider powers.

He noted happily that his mask was still on, seeing that he could see the sides of his eye lenses. At least he still had his identity, he thought sardonically.

The Arachnid themed hero was pulled into a room at the end of the hall and plopped into a rolling desk chair. That was the moment he realized that he recognized where he was.

Someone yanked his sagging head up so he could see his former boss in crime. While Peter instinctively knew the hand holding up his chin was applying great pressure and it would probably bruise, he didn't really feel any pain. He didn't know whether he should feel grateful or distressed. On one hand, it meant any pain he felt while on the paralysis drug would be null. On the other hand, whatever damage done would be felt later on, so it would only delay the inevitable. On the bright side, Peter now had a little better clue as to what type of drug he was infected with. Whatever it was probably disabled the neurotransmitters in his body.

"It's been awhile, huh kid? Or should I call ya the Spider-Man now? I can't say I really expected ya ta go all hero after ya were let go. Were ya trying to prove yerself 'r somethin'?" The man laughed in a raucous manner.

"I have nothing to prove." Peter spoke with a little difficulty, considering he couldn't really move his jaw that well. His voice was mostly slurred.

"Sure, sure. I believe ya. Anyways, let's get down ta business. Do ya wanna know why I brought ya 'ere?" He asked.

"Yeah, its not because I know to much is it? Don't worry man, I'm picking up what your putting down, you don't have to hand it to me. I won't talk to anyone. What happens in fight club stays in fight club, right? Or don't tell me you just brought me here to listen to your dulcet tones." Peter singsonged jokingly.

"Of course not. I've brought ya 'ere so I could make a profit." He stated like it was obvious.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked.

"I'm sellin' ya. Turns out people'll pay quite a lot fer a little mutant ta study."

Peter cringed, "Wow, black market auctioning? As fun as that sounds, my schedule is booked. Maybe some other time?"

"Sorry, I really must insist." The boss chuckled.

"Come on, I did you so many favors! What's a little return for an old pal?"

"Boy, you've been the one to stop several of my heists now." He growled.

"Oh, so it really was Paul I decked in the face! I'm sure he knows I was just kidding around. Why don't we just forget all this and go out for some shawarma, huh? My treat."

"I'll have ta pass on that one, kid. There's no way out of this." The older deadpanned.

"Not even if I click my heels and say 'there's no place like home'?" Peter pouted.

"Ya talk a lot more than ya used ta, boy." He glared.

"And your more annoying than you used to be. Seriously, if your gonna torture me, don't do it with your mouth. I rather have to watch Napoleon Dynamite than be here." Peter smirked behind the mask.

The boss glowered at the teen. "It would be a shame if ya had the balls ta escape when yer exchanged. Perhaps it would be best if ya weren't at yer top condition, eh? Get that brat out o' my sight." He growled.

Peter was dragged off with those parting words.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Peter lost track of how long he had spent with the two men. He expected it was probably a few hours, but it felt like much longer. About halfway through the... session the drug he was injected with had worn off. By then though, his body was in too much pain to even attempt any movement.

It hadn't been straight up torture, like the kind in the really angsty teen fanfiction she once regretted coming across on the internet. It was more like what he was already used to. Aunt Alexandra had beat him occasionally, not as bad as this of course. They mostly stuck to kicks and punches, but when they noticed the drug was wearing off, they started using a cattle prod...

It wasn't traumatizing, like... that... was, but it wasn't pleasant either. Peter decided not to think about it. Hell, he didn't even remember much. It was mostly a blur. Now he was being painfully dragged down another hallway, this one had more doors, though. Said doors were not wooden this time, but rather metal. Each door had a small opening at the bottom that was a little bigger that a mail slot. About eye level on the door was another little window with bars across it.

Jail cells.

At the end of the hall, which by the way, felt completely unoriginal, they stopped dragging Spider-Man and turned to the cell. One man, now dubbed Thing 1, opened the cell with a key card and pointed a gun into the cell.

"No funny business." He growled.

The man who was left to hold me, Thing 2, pulled me forward and threw into the small room. Thing 1 closed the door without another word and they left.

I groaned a little, and muttered grouchily, "The service here is terrible. I'm gonna give it a terrible review. This is the last time I rent cheap."

The captured vigilante began to painfully push himself off the ground, but froze when his spidey sense when off. A second later a hand pushed his head back down to the ground, and pinned the rest of his body.

A disembodied voice growled, "Who the hell are you?"

Chapter Text

The captured vigilante began to painfully push himself off the ground, but froze when his spidey sense went off. A second later a hand pushed his head back down to the ground, and pinned the rest of his body.

A disembodied voice growled, "Who the hell are you?"

Peter gave a nervous chuckle. That hand was too close to his mask for comfort. "Double O Seven. Britain's finest agent. License to kill. Mixing business with girls and thrills." he said in a poor imitation of a British accent.

The man lifted his head and slammed his face back down. "Try again."

"I'm Batman?" The vigilante tried.

"Is this a joke to you?!"

"Only funny thinks are jokes to me, sir."

The enigma growled.

"Okay, okay! Have you ever heard of Spider-Man?"

"Is that who you are?" The tone was suspicious.

"Yep! The one and only." The unseen grin was infallible.

The man got off of Spider-Man and allowed him to get up. Peter took a second to examine the guy. He looked to be in his mid 40's, about 6' 8'', and probably a good 200 or so pounds of muscle. He had brown hair in a faux hawk* type style, blue-gray eyes, and frown lines in his brow. He was wearing a black Kevlar suit with an array of pouches. There was a symbol of a bird on it that Peter thought he should recognize, but he was too out of it to give the emblem much thought.

Peter did, however, have the mind to recognize the man in front of him. "Hey, aren't you one of those Avenger guys? Ya know, the ones who stopped the invasion on New York a few months back?" Peter remembered that little event clearly. He had had a little... incident with his aunt earlier that one day. Even if he wanted to fight, he doubted he could have. Not to mention the fact that if he was caught saving people by his boss, he would have been fired much earlier than he had been...

The Avenger grunted, "That's classified." Peter guessed that the confidential part was that he was Hawkeye, not the part on him being an Avenger. The whole world knew who was in the Avengers during the alien invasion. Or maybe nothing was classified and he was just being a prick.

That was probably it.

"Hey, you're that vigilante that showed up a couple of days ago, right? The morning news won't shut up about it." The newly dubbed Hawkeye asked.

"Classified." Peter responded, to which Hawkeye rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. What are you doing here anyway?"

"I could ask you the same, birdy." Peter responded blandly, leaning back on the wall behind him.

The Avenger glared at the nickname. "Ladies first." He smirked.

Peter gasped theatrically. "Questioning my manliness on the first date? How rude!"

"Widow has a manlier figure than you, stickboy."

"Hey, being a bit thin has its advantages. I'm super flexible. I'd like to see you fit through an air vent, fatty." Peter scoffed.

Hawkeye glared at the younger hero. "I'll have you know this is all muscle. I doubt you could even draw an arrow with those lanky limbs. And I fit in vents!"

"Prove it." Spider-Man raised a brow challengingly.

"Why you little-" The man seemed to hold himself back from continuing, taking a calming breath, "You know what? This is stupid. I don't know what those creeps put in me, but I'm obviously not thinking straight if I'm wasting time arguing with some punk rather than planning for escape. I don't care, so you can just do you, kid."

Spidey took a second to mull over the other hero's words. He did have a point. Quips and insults, no matter how witty and amusing they were, weren't gonna help them out of their dour situation. All it was doing was making them disregard the problem in a rather irresponsible way of trying avoid the seemingly hopeless odds of their escape.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and Spider-Man shifted a bit uncomfortably before hesitantly muttering, "I don't know if this will help at all, but... I met with the boss awhile ago. He said he plans on selling me for science purposes or something, and since I was stuck in here with you, it's probably safe to assume they are planning on the same for you."

Hawkeye spared Peter a glance. "Technically, assuming that is impractical, especially since I have no inhuman abilities, but it's a definite possibility."

"Why else would you be here?"

"Dunno, maybe a crazy super villain wants to brainwash me and force me to assist in his evil plans, or something."

"Hey, how did you even get captured in the first place? Aren't you supposed to be a super strong avenger?" The vigilante was genuinely curious. How does one go about capturing the legendary Hawkeye?

Said hero glared in an almost defensive manner at the younger, "I don't see how that's any of your concern. Things like this are in my job description." Peter thought he detected a flustered hint in the others voice, but before he could comment, the man threw him off with his next question.

"I should be asking you why you're here. Shouldn't you be, I don't know, partying and studying in college or something? You can't be much older than 23 at the most. What the hell are you doing in the vigilante business."

What is this, an interrogation? Peter gave the older a piercing stare, and while it couldn't be seen, it most certainly could be detected. The other either was ignorant enough not to notice, or he didn't care, based off his lack of reaction. The latter of the two was more likely.

"As you said, it's none of your business."

Hawkeye raised a critical brow, "It was just a question, no need to get so defensive, kid."

"I'm not a-" Spider-Man gave a quick push off the wall he was leaning against so he could stand straight. However, it was a bit too fast, as one of his bigger bruises gave off a painful throb to make itself known. Peter couldn't stop a wince as he choked down a whimper.

"There something wrong?" Hawkeye looked a bit suspicious at this.

"'M fine. I heal fast. It'll be gone in no time."

Spidey REALLY hoped something would happen soon. He didn't feel comfortable with how curious this Hawkeye guy was being...

If Spider-Man knew what would happen soon, he wouldn't have made that wish. He would have happily stayed in that little cell forever.

(Should I rewrite that? It felt kinds contradictory and out of character...)
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"I've gotten a report back from the mole stationed it that crime organization Peter might be connected to." Layla had just gotten off the phone a few seconds ago. She had been talking while her husband was eating breakfast. He, only having heard half of the conversation, had gathered as much. He didn't know much else other than that.

"So? What did they say?" Richard sipped his coffee casually.

"Well, technically, it's what did my connection say the mole said. I obviously don't have clearance to make requests to the mole directly, so I had to pull some strings." Layla poured herself a cup of coffee, the Starbucks* brand, as well. She'd need it.

"Details." He waved his hand flippantly, "Come on, what did they report? Is it bad?" The man interrogated.

Layla sighed, "It's definitely not pretty. So, the mole went back through the files again, looking for anyone with abundances of missing information, and he found one. Get this, there was no information on the guy, the file was completely blank. Not even a name. But there was a picture, and a couple aliases. The original alias that was recorded was 'Phantom'-"

"You mean that unseen criminal that hasn't been heard from in awhile?" Richard cut in.

Layla glared, "Yes, shut up and let me finish. The picture was of Spider-Man, and the second alias said so. The interesting thing is, the file said Spider-Man's employment was terminated before the the 'Spider-Man' alias was even added to it."

"So Spider-Man didn't make an appearance until after he quit working for him." Richard concluded.

"Right." Layla nodded

"So what? How does Spider-Man's sudden change of heart help us? This isn't really putting Peter in the best light either." Richard stated while leaning against his fist that was propped up by his elbow on the table.

"That's why we're solving this in secret. We know Peter is a good kid. He probably didn't want to be involved in anything shady. He felt forced."

"I know that, I'm just saying. The courts won't be to happy about this." Richard found a sudden interest in the far wall.

"Let's hope they're forgiving. Anyway, that's not all the leak had found. Apparently, Spider-Man has been captured." Layla gave her husband a knowing glance.

The male startled a bit, "The organization has him? Why?"

Layla swallowed hard. "They plan on selling him. The trade is going off at one of those multi-story parking lots. The one on Bridge St., and it's happening tomorrow night."

Richard looked worried, "Layla, this is turning out to be more than we can handle... maybe it would be best if we-"

"The police can't be involved! If they are, I have no doubt they'll take Spider-Man. He's the key to finding Peter, Dick. Trust me." Layla interrupted.

"I understand that, but we won't be much help without a plan." Richard reasons.

"That's where you're wrong! I do have a plan. We go to the lot before them, set up a few sleeping gas bombs, blow 'me when the time is right, and Presto! One Spider-Man, coming right up." She said cheerily.

"That idea sucks." Richard deadpans.

"Does not." Layla pouts.

Richard pinches the bridge of his nose. "Fine, whatever. Is there anything else we should now? Who is he being auctioned too?"

Layla frowned, "Actually, according to my source, the mole had known, but right before he could tell her, he cut himself off, saying he had to go before disconnecting."

"Great, so we're going in blind." Richard huffed.

"Technically, we're not 'going in' at all. The sleeping gas will do the job for us." Layla amended.

"I've got a bad feeling about this..." Richard sighed.

(Lol, that was worse than the first part! Is it just me, or are Layla and Richard way to dumb to be SHIELD agents?)
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•

~A day or so later(the evening before the trade off)~

Spider-Man and Hawkeye sat in silence for most of the time they were locked up together. They weren't given anything to eat or drink, which hadn't done much good for spidey's healing factor... the burns from the cattle prod still stung, and while the bruises were gone, he was still incredibly sore. His spidey sense also was a constant tingle in the back of his mind, making his head uncomfortably numb.

Hawkeye, on the other hand, seemed fine. Other than the place on his neck he would occasionally rub as if to banish the soreness, he didn't appear to have any visible injuries. Spidey wondered how much resistance he put up... it didn't seem like much. Then again, maybe he couldn't fight at the time. A hostage situation perhaps? Whatever it was, Spider-Man was just glad that Hawkeye was of relatively good health. Peter was pretty sure he could still handle himself, but if he had another injured man to take care of, chances of escaping would have dropped to an almost zero.

Speaking of escape, that is exactly what Spider-Man had been contemplating when his Spidey sense increased in strength, and not a moment later the metal door came clanging open. Three men, not surprisingly dressed in dark colors and wearing shades, came in with guns pointing directly at the heroes.

"You're going to stand up and come quietly. No resistance. If you try anything funny, there will be a bullet in you so fast your head won't have the chance to spin before you're dead." The one in the middle grunted as the two stood compliantly.

They were led through a few twists and turns and out into a large parking garage where they were shoved into the back of a large, dark green van.

Hey, at least they were original. As long as it isn't black.

Peter wasn't sure how long the van was moving, but it felt like forever. The atmosphere was so tense, Peter was worried he'd choke to death on it before he could escape. That's why, when the vehicle finally came to a rest and the back doors were swung open, Peter didn't know if he should have felt relieved or terrified.

The two of them were shoved out of the van and greeted with the sight of an empty parking lot, looking to be on the fifth or sixth level, based on their height in comparison to the next door building.

While observing his surroundings, Spider-Man had slowed in step. One of the men with the guns shoved him forward impatiently, muttering, "Keep moving."

Peter stumbled forward a bit, thankfully not falling as his foot shot forward to catch himself. Oddly, rather than a slightly louder thud, from bringing down his foot harder than normal, there was a sort of... splat.

Spidey glanced down at his foot, expecting to see a puddle of water, though that was odd, considering the lot was sheltered. It was a puddle alright. When the vigilante processed the maroon shade of the liquid, he yelped and leapt out of it. The man who had shoved him gave a cruel sneer, "Oh, that? That's just a leak that had to be... plugged.* Better be a good boy, don't wanna end up like him, do you?" Was the man's snide remark.

Peter swallowed hard. He would have to be careful. It wasn't just his life in danger here. Hawkeye would die too if he screwed up. The blood just went to prove how serious these guys were. Not that the hero really doubted their ruthlessness in the first place. He had, after all, worked with them for a time.

Moments later, a black van came cruising into the lot from off the ramp, taking its sweet, sweet time. Imagine that. The bad guys driving a black van. Once it got close enough, Spider-Man could just make out what was written on the side of the van:

HYDE AND DREW'S
PLUMBING SERVICES

The vehicles pulled to a stop about ten meters away from where the three men with the two heroes stood. The double doors on the back opened. It was not a plumber, disappointingly, that came out. Not that spidey really expected Mario and Luigi* themselves, or anything. No, instead, four men, each carrying some high tech fire arms, jumped out. One man in the front, not the driver who seemed to have opted to stay in the van, also opened his door and got out. He had an expensive looking black suit on, wore black aviators over his eyes, and his black hair was greased back out of his face. Oh, and get this: he was equipped with a... wait for it... black attaché case. Peter, in that moment, decided that he hated bad guys. He also hated the color black. When, or if, spidey got out of this, he knew a major costume change would be in session.

A guys from the front seat of the van Peter came in stepped forward. He held a cigar and wore khakis. For what it's worth, He could say he liked his old employer's company more. That didn't say much, but hey, at least they were original.

"You have the money?" The man with the cigar, apparently the leader, questioned.

Peter discreetly looked around at exactly what he was up against here. Three guys holding the heroes, all holding what looked like a Colt M4 Carbine rifle. Two more people flanking the man with the cigar also carried this rifle. Cigar man himself had a Glock 22 poking out of his pocket. The vigilante wasn't sure what in hell the four men on the opposite side were holding, so he assumed they weren't anything standard. The more unknown, the more dangerous. Peter would keep a close eye them. Speaking of close eye, he noticed a familiar symbol on the uniforms of the four lackeys with the big guns. Was that an... octopus? Six tentacles, rounded head. The head was weird though. Peter squinted. The head almost looked like a skull...

Spider-Man realized at that moment that he was boned. Anyone would, if they discovered they were about to be a captive of Hydra.

Spidey's will to escape suddenly tripled. It was now or never. He had to escape before the trade happened, or he was doomed.

Spider-Man looked around for something, anything, that could help him. That's when he noticed what the guy in between himself and Hawkeye was holding. While the other two men held guns to the captive's heads, the third has his rifle pointed towards the ground in one hand, and in the other, the hand only half a meter from Spidey's own, was his web shooters. They had apparently come alone for part of the trade.

The question was, how to get them and not be instantly killed. Peter stole a glance towards Hawkeye, who remained rigidly staring forward. Not to mention that if Hawkeye wasn't ready to move when the arachnid- themed hero did, he would get shot as well.

In the brief seconds it took Spidey to think all of this, the man with the case had opened it up and displayed the stacks of bills from within, "One million, as requested, for both of the captives." His voice was a monotone that not even a robot could pull off better.

There was a sudden crackling sound, one of radio static, and the Hydra man in the black suit raised his hand to his ear, "Please excuse me for a moment." It was less of a request and more of a statement, the way he said it, and pressed a button on his ear piece.

"It's Jacobs. Report." There was a short silence as the newly named Jacobs listened to the person on the other end. There was a slight twitch in his frown. "I see. Bring them here."

As soon as Jacobs hand lowered from his ear he produces a hand gun seemingly from thin air and pointed it at the cigar man, who looked decidedly shocked. Simultaneously, the two flanking Cigar pointed their guns at Jacobs, the Hydra men behind Jacobs pointed their guns at the two flanking, and the one extra man in between Hawkeye and Spider-Man, who had pointed his gun back at the Hydra men. The two with guns to the captive's heads looked extremely tense.

A classic showdown.

"What is this about?" Cigar queried smoothly, as if there wasn't a lead bullet pointed directly towards his heart.

"The guard I left to ensure we weren't interrupted just called in. He found two unknown persons slinking around the floor below us. I'm sure you were made aware of the consequences of double crossing us..." Jacobs trailed off as he clicked the safety off of his gun.

"I assure you, this was not a setup of any sort." Cigar convinced calmly, "We would make no profit in assisting law enforcement."

Jacobs made no sign of belief or disbelief, but hardly took notice of that when he saw the two people walk in, a guard in between them with a gun trained to the back of the female's head.

Peter's head was spinning. Why? Why were they here?! His guidance counselor and her husband...

Layla and Richard Bateman.

What were they doing here?

The couple were led over two Jacobs, who shifted to point his gun at Layla.

Please don't.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to interrupt a meeting? Who are you?" Jacobs growled.

They stayed silent.

The man growled. "Very well," He signaled to the guard who bright them in. "Kill the girl."

Stop! You can't!

"Richard and Layla Bateman. SHEILD agents." Richard interrupted, and the dark man in front of them held up his hand in a motion for the guard to stop. Peter just noticed he Jacobs had put down the attaché case.

"Good. Where are the rest of you?"

"There's only us." Richard began.

No, not again. Please, not again.

"We're technically on leave. SHEILD doesn't know we're here. It was a self-appointed assignment." The husband finished.

"Oh? And you planned to stop the trade how?" Jacobs questioned sardonically.

Suddenly the guard stepped forward, "I found this on the girl."

Make it stop.

It was a little black box. "What does this remote do?"

"Triggers a sleeping gas bomb." This time it was Layla.

"You're telling me two SHEILD agents came with a half-a**ed plan and no backup and expect to succeed?"

Just this once! Please stop!

Layla's twisted scowl and blazing glare could melt a persons face off. Your a piece of ****!" She spit.

The man smirked humorlessly, "Thank you for your cooperation, agents. Have a good day.

Two shots rang out.

Why? Why do I have this curse? Why do you make me suffer!?

Two neat, red holes in the center of the forehead.

Two thuds of a body hitting concrete.

Two sighs as the air was pushed out of the lungs from a last breath.

The sound of death.

Never again.

Jacobs turned back to face Cigar. Guns in the room lowered, all but two, that is.

"So," He smiled, but there was no emotion behind it. Only a slight pull on the corner of the lips, imitating the mangled form of an apology. Apologies for the slight delay in business. As if a secretary had just interrupted to bring him coffee, or a document statistic. As if he hadn't just taken the lives of two good people. "Shall we continue?"

I can't get close anymore. To protect them from myself. From my curse.

Peter choked on the sound of distress that had wanted to escape. The sound of pain from seeing one of the only people that cared die.

He didn't even hear the sound of metal on rock. Didn't see the guns, all but two, swivel in one direction. Didn't feel the slight breeze kicked up by their entrance.

"Don't tell me you started the party without us?"

But please comment! It's my main motivation! I didn't plan on updating today, but someone left a comment on my FF.Net account and I had enough inspiration from just that to write the last 1,500 or so words.

~Sayonara

Chapter Text

Last time in Rise the Broken...

Peter choked on the sound of distress that had wanted to escape. The sound of pain from seeing one of the only people that cared die.

He didn't even hear the sound of metal on rock. Didn't see the guns, all but two, swivel in one direction. Didn't feel the slight breeze kicked up by their entrance.

"Don't tell me you started the party without us?"

When Peter heard the obviously rhetorical question, he was startled, not having seen their arrival like the others.

"I don't see how that's a party." A monotone woman's voice.

"Now is not the time for jokes. Let's bag and tag, team." This came as a strong declare, demanding respect and compliance. The leader.

Peter was finally able to process just who had come flying in through the windowless gaps in between the floor and the ceiling of the lot.

Ironman, Black Widow, and Captain America.

If Peter wasn't in such a delicate situation, he might have just fainted on the spot. After all, it's not every day your idol and a super soldier from WWII are in the same room as you.

That wasn't important, though, as Captain America threw his shield and the signal for the fight to begin was off. It was hardly all that much of a fight, though.

Cap's shield hit Jacobs, and he was instantly down. Bullets and slightly heavier-in-caliber blasts from the Hydra agents were shot at the three Avengers. There was no effect. It seemed mere child's play to the trio as they easily took down the small amount of enemies. Ironman blasted the four from Hydra, the Captain took out the guard that was next to Jacobs and Cigar along with his two lackeys, and Widow expertly handled the three by Hawkeye and himself. Unconscious bodies littered the floor. All unconscious, except two. Two were dead.

Peter picked up his discarded webshooters and slipped them on.

"Why did all three of you come? Its a little much." Hawkeye grumbled with a raised eyebrow.

"I had your coordinates. I had to come." Ironman snarked.

"I wanted to." The ever vague Widow.

"I'm just making sure these two don't rip each other's throats out. Tony isn't the easiest to get on with." Captain sighed.

"Hey! I'll have you know I have a way more approachable personality than the Widow." Stark crossed his arms.

"What took so long anyway? I though you were better than a three day delay, Stark. My Grandmother could found me faster than you." Hawkeye teased.

"Quit complaining, birdie, at least you got a rescue. You were obviously out of your league on this one. Couldn't take out a few side goons on your own? That explains how you were captured so easily. Tranqed while you were-" The laughing Ironman was cut off.

"Hey! I'll have you know I'm super skilled! They just... caught me on an off moment... and I couldn't fight back here. If I did, the kid might have been shot." Hawkeye gestured towards Spider-Man.

"I'm not a kid." Said hero mumbled awkwardly.

What teen wouldn't be a bid uncertain in the presence of for of the 'World's Greatest Heroes'?

Captain America stepped forward, "How did you get wrapped up with these guys, son? Who are you?"

Spider-Man shrugged, "I'm Spider-Man, and they kinda just captured me."

"I've heard of you. That new vigilante, right? I hear Jameson is really tearing into you, especially the last few days." This was Ironman.

"I guess so?" Peter wasn't sure what to say about that. He hadn't exactly been around the for the last day and a half of that, and he didn't even pay attention to it before.

Spider-Man was getting uncomfortable at that point. "Umm, I should probably go..." he gestured vaguely in the direction of the windowless openings.

"Wait, your not hurt are you? Maybe you should wait for an ambulance to check you over." Captain worried.

Peter appreciated the sentiment, but he really had to go. Eating and showering were top priority. "I'll be fine." Spidey turned away only to have his arm grabbed by Hawkeye.

Bad move. "He's right, you looked hurt in that cell. You also have to have your statement taken, since you were in more direct communication with our captors superiors than I wah-!" Hawkeye didn't even finish the sentence as Spidey grabbed his arm and flipped the archer over his shoulder. He landed in a dazed heap. The other three Avengers tensed.

(Gah! Around this part I subconsciously switched to first person and had to go back and fix it... it's because of my other stupid story... T-T)

"Oh my gosh- I am so sorry!" Peter backed away from Hawkeye, his hands raised in an 'I surrender' kind of way. "I really didn't mean to, it's just I don't like to be touched, and when it happens without warning I panic and kinda just... flip out..." Spider-Man didn't even have the heart to laugh at his own pun in his sincerity. He really didn't mean it, it's just ever since what happened with his Aunt he's been kinda jumpy around human contact, with how his trust had been shattered. He didn't even hand cash directly to the cashier in grocery stores.

His explanation seemed to pacify the three more recent arrivals, and Hawkeye sat up, rubbing his shoulder. "Damn, kid, that's some toss ya got there. Totally caught me unawares." Then he stood.

"Bet that didn't take much, eh Legolas?" Tony commented flippantly.

"Can it Stark, before I kick your can." Hawkeye growled.

Cap rolled his eyes at their antics. Meanwhile, Spidey noticed Widow was watching him closely, as if analyzing his possible skill and power.

Peter shuddered. He felt like a bug under a microscope. Or rather, an arachnid.

Then he heard sirens sound in the distance. "There's backup. Let's get this show on the road." Captain informed as cars started up the ramps at the bottom of the lot.

Spider-Man figured that was his cue, and before anyone could so much as protest, he was swinging away. Just another day as your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

As this though crossed the web swinger's mind, the police and ambulances pulled up into the lot, Sirens and flashing lights blaring and ablaze. In all the ruckus, nobody noticed one of the "unconscious" figures on the ground stand and slip away until it was too late. Jacobs remains free as a bird, and is out for revenge, determined to finish what he started.

You thought he'd be in the group just like that? XD Nah, I gotta make ya wait a little. Hopefully what happens in this story isn't too poorly written.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

When Peter woke up the next day, he was definitely feeling the hurt from the previous days' activities. And by 'activities', he meant beatings, plus the strain of everything after. The swing home had been hell. After making a quick PB&J, the teen had collapsed onto his bed and promptly passed out.

Now he was regretting that decision. He should have done something to ease his strained muscles first. Now it was too late and he would have to deal with it for the rest of the day.

Peter felt a twinge on his face, and carefully felt the area the burning came from. His jaw stung immensely. The teen carefully made his way downstairs and to the bathroom. He wiped the dust off of the mirror, cleaning away the message to the three boys. That felt like it had happened weeks ago, but in reality, it had only been a couple days.

Peter winced when he saw his face in the mirror. His jaw on the left side of his face was a mess of purple, blue, and green. The boy hadn't had the chance to inspect his injuries after that beating since Hawkeye was around. Even so, he didn't think it was this bad. Peter didn't doubt for a second his healing factor wasn't working as fast as normal because he hadn't eaten much the past few days. He would have to eat a good breakfast.

Peter left the house and arrived at the public bath house soon after. He took care of the normal morning bathroom routine and went to the cafe. This time, he ordered a coffee, three pancakes, and a side of bacon. Peter was grateful this was a privately owned cafe. The food here was actually food, not that disgusting fast food slop that's made by the dozens.
(Ever try McDonald's Pancakes? Even I could do better, and I can't even make scrambled eggs right)

Peter felt a little better after breakfast, and although he was a little uncomfortable by the stares the waitress kept shooting at his discolored jaw, he felt at peace. The walk through the park on the way back to the house only contributed to his mood. He was so lost in thought, he didn't notice the slight tingle of his spidey sense until it was too late, and he had crashed head-on with a jogger.

The runner, being the bigger of the two, only stubbled back a few feet. Peter, on the other hand, was thrown back like a sac of potatoes, and being the elegant teenager he was, he tripped over his own feet and fell on his butt. Peter gasped as his bruises were aggravated, but swallowed the groan of pain that wanted freedom.

"I am so sorry, are you okay? I wasn't paying attention, so I didn't see you until... Are you hurt?" The blonde jogger exclaimed apologetically as he helped Peter to his feet.

"No, no, I'm fine. And you don't have to apologize, I'm to blame too. I wasn't looking where I was going. To off in my own world to think straight." Peter averted his eyes nervously as he anxiously twiddled his thumbs.

The blonde laughed, and Peter looked up in shock. "It figures that out of all the days we pass each other that we're both out of it on the same day. Are you sure you're okay, though? That's quite the nasty bruise you got there."

"Yeah." Peter answered absently. That voice sounded familiar... and now that he thought of it, the man looked familiar as well. Wait.

Peter mentally drew an American flag on the older male.

Captain America.

Peter had been walking past Captain Freaking America every day, and never even realized it.

"I mean, yeah, I'm fine. Just fell, ya know? I'm really clumsy at times... as you can see..." Peter had amended when the Avenger out of disguise gave him a concerned look at his previous monosyllabic answer that had trailed off uncertainly.

"It's good that your okay. My name is Steve, by the way." Steve didn't look like he fully believed Peter's excuse, but let it slide anyway. The blonde held out his hand to shake.

Peter took it and replied, "Peter. Nice to finally meet you."

"Did you just move to the neighborhood? I've only seen you the past couple of weeks." Steve asked.

"You could say that, yeah. I just moved in." It was technically the truth.

"That's nice. You like the place? I jog around here everyday, as you've seen. It think it's nice."

"Yeah, it's quiet and peaceful most of the time. Well, as quiet and peaceful as a city can get, that is."

"I can agree with you there. Everything changes so fast. Time just... keeps moving." Steve looks wistful at this reply, and sensing a personal subject, Peter chose to not pursue it. Besides, Peter already had a pretty good idea as to what the symbol of America meant. Being frozen for seventy years must have been hard.

"Yeah. Innovation and all that jazz. I should get going, it was nice meeting you, Steve. Goodbye." Peter saluted jokingly as he headed off.

"See you tomorrow, I suppose." Said Steve. With that, they went their separate ways.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Later that day, our hero lay in a makeshift web hammock as he contemplated what he would do. Peter wasn't sure if he should continue to walk through the park, or go the long way around to avoid Steve. The Avenger wasn't a danger to him, but rather his secret identity. If he recognized Peter's voice as Spider-Man's, he could tell the government. It wouldn't be so bad if the teen wasn't also hiding from the police on account of being a key witness in an investigation, but sadly that was the case.

On the other hand, it wouldn't be very likely the Avenger would actually figure him out. Hawkeye seemed to think he was around 20, so why would they suspect a 15 year-old to be a vigilante? Besides, it wasn't like Peter was in constant contact with the blonde, it would just be a simple passing 'hello.' Plus, Peter didn't really wanna take longer than he already did to get places.

Still, there was always a risk. If worse comes to worse the teen could always just go through the park at a different time of day, spending a little longer in the cafe or something.

Peter decided he would just deal with it when it came up and left it at that. There was no need to dwell over all the 'what ifs' in life.

The boy suddenly realized how restless he was feeling at that moment. It was still around 6:30 PM, so Peter had quite awhile to go before his nightly routine, but he didn't really want to wait until then. He was itching for that free feeling he got when he swung through the concrete jungle that was New York. The wind whipping him with a cold that penetrated so deep he got goosebumps just thinking of it. The strain on his muscles and the release when he let go.

Peter didn't spend anymore time dwelling on it, choosing to slip into his black and white costume. He still needed to change that old design...

Mere minutes later, Spider-Man was webbing his way through the city, high above the streets and between the buildings. The sky was covered in light gray clouds that blocked out the sun. It didn't look like it would rain anytime soon, but the slight breeze promised a storm tonight. Peter mentally noted this. He'd have to make sure to be at his place before it started.

Spider-Man shifted his weight slightly as he shot his next web at an angle and pulled, pivoting his body to turn on the corner of the building to the adjacent street. When his spidey sense went off, Peter almost didn't dodge in time as a helicopter whizzed past. The hero had shot a web at the nearest building and pulled himself onto the side of it.

"Hey! Watch it, I'm swinging here!" Peter called after the aircraft as he shook a fist at it.

"Sheesh, they must be giving any bozo with a chopper licenses these days." Spidey grumbled to himself.

Peter hadn't expected the helicopter to turn around. "Oops... too harsh?" The wall-crawler shot a web at the next building and swung away. To his disappointment, the helicopter was indeed chasing him. That was made apparent when after several turns, the helicopter was still tailing him. Even with his pursuer, Peter wasn't too worried. Shaking off the helicopter would not be too difficult. He could easily manure through places the helicopter would be to big to ever fit in. The only problem was finding the right place that would surely shake the aircraft...

Spider-Man's spidey sense blared and the teen automatically dodged several blasts of hot energy meant for him.

Find a place, and fast.

The arachnid-powered boy doubled his speed, propelling himself forward faster as he pulled harder and shot quickly. Once he was a good ten yards away from the chopper, he took a sharp turn. His muscles strained and burned from the effort his acceleration. Changing the direction of such a fast moving object while trying to maintain as much of the original speed as possible was not a fun task.

The helicopter slowed to make the turn, but by the time they were around the corner it was too late. Their quarry was nowhere in sight.

Peter had pulled himself into the narrow space between two buildings as soon as he made the turn. He watched as the helicopter passed by him without noticing him as he hid in the shadows.

Spidey waited a few minutes before giving a relieved sigh, "Wow, I can't believe they fell for the oldest trick in the boo-" He was cut off as his Spidey sense rang so hard his head spun. The side of the building just under his feet exploded, and he jumped away from it before he could fall to the ground.

Spidey swung back out into the streets and looked on in a bit of shock and mild annoyance as the fricking helicopter flew over the buildings he had just been hiding between and towards him. It was at times like this that Peter wanted to curse the god of luck for hating him so much.

Peter began to swing away again, going back the way he had come. Only this time, it was different, because once again his spidey sense tingled and three missiles whizzed right past him.

Peter snorted and looked back at his pursuers, "You missed!" He called out teasingly, only to be corrected by his precognition abilities that the bad guys were never that easy.

Sure enough, when the teenage hero turned to face forward again, he saw the missiles curve their trajectory and head back, coming straight for him.

Heat seekers.

Peter cursed and acted quickly. He pulled himself up higher as the weapons came closer. As soon as he was high enough, Peter went into a short free fall as he webbed the fronts of two of the missiles and pulled them together, creating an explosion that briefly masked both the hero and the final remaining projectile in a cloud of smoke.

Seconds later Peter and the missile came out of opposite ends of the cloud, both in one piece.

The missile made another turn, and Peter remain swinging steadily. He let it get closer, and just before it would hit he pulled himself sideways with an off-shot web. The missile his a billboard.

Peter endlessly cursed his luck as the billboard, that ironically advertised public safety, tore apart and fell towards the pedestrians and drivers below. He halted his forward movement and pulled himself down towards the falling wreckage. Spider-Man acted quickly and webbed the main foundations on several spots of the billboard to the surrounding buildings, stopping the giant metal wreckage's decent only yards away from the sidewalk. Frightened civilians scrambled out from under the danger as it swayed precariously above them.

Spidey secured the hazardous object with a few more webs and an order for the pedestrians to call the police for clean up before the billboard could fall. With that, he swung back up to where the helicopter hovered in wait.

How kind of them.

Peter knew running wasn't a choice anymore. People were being put in danger by this game of cat and mouse, and the hero would not stand for that. He would have to confront them directly. Chasers to chasee.

Spidey swung to the roof of a building a block or so away from the billboard accident with the helicopter following. The teen raised a hand as if beckoning them as the aircraft came in for a landing on the roof. Before the blades of the chopper could even come to a halt, the back door slid open and three guys with guns jumped out.

They were all wearing uniforms with the same symbol on them: Hydra. Peter hadn't expected them to keep chasing him. Why couldn't it have ended with the Avengers showing up yesterday?

There's that Parker luck at work again.

"I hope you've now realized how serious we are, Spider-Man. Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Come quietly, or put yourself, and the general public, in more danger than necessary." It was a familiar voice.

Jacobs stepped out of the co-pilots' door. He was wearing a-

BlAcK

Suit and holding a-

BlaCk

Gun.

Black.

Black.

Black...

The  color of death.

Black holes. Neat holes. Center of the forehead. Thud.

Black suit. Put it on. Protect identity. Protect --AuNt--... get the money. Don't let her- don't let her- don't let her- hUrT you.

Push. Thud. Thud. Thud. Down the stairs. In the basement. Not useful. Locked door. Dark. Black. Let him out! He'll get the money! don't wanna be A- A- A- AloNe.

Dark clothes. Everyone in    BLACK    Clothes. Clouds. Rain. Umbrella. Bury the casket. Sorry for your loss. Funeral.

Gunshot. Thud. Uncle Ben! Stop the bleeding- Stop the bleeding. Neat hole. Not red. To dark. Only black. Florescent, warm, liquid bLack. On his hands. Dirty-Dirty-Dirty. Great power. Great responsibility. Protect your aunt. Protect everyone. No matter the cost? No matter you? You're a ToOl. Your job is to SACRIFICE. Yourself.

Stay with your aunt and uncle. Mommy? Daddy? Plane crash. Dark night. Police at the door. Black. Black. Scream.

Spider-Man shook his head violently. He didn't know what in the hell... that was, but he really didn't have time for it. There were bigger fish to fry.

"Well? What'll it be, kid?"

Peter growled at the man, "You won't control me."

Jacobs expression turned almost disappointed. As if an adult looking down chidingly on a child for lying about taking the last cookie. Peter felt mildly annoyed.

"Very well. Take him."

The three with the guns shot at Spider-Man with the order. The hero couldn't help but think it was all too easy to dodge the blasts with his spider-sense constantly warning him to dodge. That was his first mistake.

His second mistake was only focusing on what was coming at his front, and not his back.

The third and final mistake was not reacting fast enough when the slight tingle in the back of his mind told him to turn around. Why turn around when the battle is in front of you?

The slight prick at the back of his neck told him why. Peter ripped out the tranquilizer dart, but it was too late. The damage was done. Spidey turned to see a woman behind him. She held out the gun that had shot the dart.

Think fast, think fast. Peter collapsed. Eyes closed, slowed breathing. Act like your life depends on it, Peter. It might, after all.

"The target is down, I repeat, the target is down. Heading back to HQ now."

Spider-Man allowed his body to slump and his head to loll back as he was thrown over someone's shoulder and carried into what he assumed was the back of the helicopter. The blades started to whirl and the sound of the helicopter taking off was little comfort to Peter.

The teen opened his eyes slightly. He was eternally grateful his mask covered his face right now. It was getting more and more difficult to act asleep when he was actually beginning to fall unconscious. He was only dizzy right now, but soon he would be out.

There were three men in the back with him, Jacobs in the co-pilots seat, and the pilot. The pilot shouldn't be trouble at first, since he was busy flying, but he could call in reinforcements. Peter would have to prevent that. Otherwise, the other four should be manageable. The hero just had to wait for the right moment. Wait for their guards to be down...

Peter just wanted to sleep, but he couldn't. Not now, or he'd be in big trouble.

Two of the men in the back were facing away, engaged in conversation. The third was moving to handcuff the hero.

Now or never.

Peter webbed the heads of the two that were talking and pulled them together, bashing their heads and knocking them unconscious. The third man let out a surprised yell and pointed his gun at Spider-Man. Thinking fast, he shot a web at the opening of the gun, so instead of hitting the hero, the blast blew the barrel of the gun up, singeing the goon's hands and distracting him long enough for Peter to deliver a blow that rendered the older man unconscious as well.

By now Jacobs was cursing and the pilot was picking up the radio. Peter shot several webs over the helicopter's control counsel and dodged several bullets shot at him by Jacobs. All the movements were making Spidey tire even faster. With one last burst of energy, the teen rammed the door of the helicopter and it burst off. He made a jump for it and was soon free falling several hundred feet above the city.

Peter made to shoot a web at the closest building, only to be greeted with several clicks that alerted him to his web fluid being empty. Spider-Man sighed and hoped to dear God that he would survive through this. That way, at least getting taken onto that helicopter so he could drop a spider tracer on it would actually be worth the effort.

As Peter drifted to sleep during his fall, his last though was a hope that the tracking device wouldn't be found should he survive.

That, and he wondered what had just hit him, and why it sounded so metallic, and why it didn't feel like he had hit The ground yet...

Chapter Text

If Spider-Man were in a movie, he probably would have woken up in a start. His eyes would have flew open, stirring up rod-straight and gasping. Maybe he would have quickly scanned his surroundings and assessed for any danger. He would have been instantly wide awake and ready for anything...

This wasn't a movie. That reality was much different. When Spidey woke up, it was in an extremely groggy manner. His eyes creeped open, only to slam shut when he found it to bright. He hadn't even twitched to sit up. Plus, he was anything but wide awake. All he wanted to do was curl up on the soft mattress and fall back into a deep sleep for the rest of eternity.

Wait a minute...

Mattress? The last thing Peter remembered was falling from the helicopter. How did he end up on a bed? This was probably a good time to open his eyes now.

The teen was extremely relieved when he opened his eyes to find himself looking through the lenses of his mask. At least his identity seemed safe so far. The room he was in looked like a normal bedroom, with a dresser, desk, closet, night stand, and, of course, the bed. It was also void of any personal objects. No pictures, posters, or personal trinkets. Just common needs. It gave Peter the impression of a hotel room.

The vigilante crawled out of the covers and slid off of the bed.

"Good morning, sir."

Peter jumped so high he hit the ceiling and clung to it. The male voice seemingly came from nowhere.

"W-Who are you?" Peter's voice cracked.

"I am the personal AI of Tony Stark's creation, but you can call me JARVIS. I have informed Mr. Stark of your awakening and he will be here shortly." Said the robotic English butler voice that was JARVIS.

Peter was awestruck. He knew self-operating AIs existed, but he never thought he'd have an up close experience with one. Not only was it an AI either, but it was Tony Stark's-

Wait, Tony Stark? And He's gonna 'be here shortly'? It didn't take a genius like Peter to figure out where he was. At that moment, Spider-Man knew he should get out. This was a huge risk to his secret, assuming it even still was a secret. He couldn't be in Stark Tower. Or now, as they call it, Avenger Tower.

"Um, thanks, JARVIS, but there really is no need for me to see your boss, but tell Mr. Stark thanks for the hospitality and everything, would you? Anyway, I really should be going. Places to be, things to do. You understand, right?" Peter walked over to the wall with all the windows on it, attempting to pry one open. It wouldn't budge. Peter inspected the windowsill, only to discover an electronic window lock.

"JARVIS, could you unlock the window for me?" Peter absently asked the AI as he looked closer at the lock.

"Actually, JARVIS, don't do that. I've got a couple important matters to discuss with the kid. I'm sure he can spare a bit of his time." Peter spun around to the new, though familiar, voice in the room. He hadn't noticed the owner of the building open the door before.

"Mr. Ironman- er- Mr. Stark!" Peter fumbled, "Uh, hi?"

Tony leaned up against the doorway, a lazy smirk on his face. "Hey, I see you're finally up. You had us worried for a moment there. Bruce was even considering bringing in an IV drip to keep you hydrated."

"Umm... how long was I out?" Peter didn't like the sound of needing an IV.

"Well, you passed out Friday evening, and now it's Sunday morning, so just over a day. You hungry? We can talk more over Breakfast." Mr. Stark offered.

Spidey had been about to decline, but he was interrupted by his stomach grumbling its protests. Peter blushed, not that the other in the room could see.

The smirk Mr. Stark was sporting widened. "I'll take that as a yes. Follow me." The man turned around, motioning the teen to follow.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark." The hero walked behind the older meekly.

"Oh, and do me a favor, cut the Mr. Stark bit. Mr. Stark was my father. Call me Tony." The billionaire grins and leads the teen past what appeared to be the living room and into a large, open kitchen.

"Ever had a cronut before?" Tony asked while opening a breadbox.

"No... what is it?" Peter had never heard of a cronut before. It sounded like an exotic tree nut.

"It's basically a croissant doughnut. Want to try one?" Now he had pulled out a small white box and was lifting the lid.

"Sure, thanks." Peter still wasn't sure what his place was with the hero, or how he should act. This made him extremely nervous. If there was one thing his aunt had taught him, it was always know your place. Spider-Man was stuck in unknown territory.

When the "cronut" was placed in front of him, Peter pulled up the bottom half of his mask and picked it up, taking a tentative bite. He wasn't sure he really trusted Stark, hero or not. Then again, the man had given him a place to stay while he was unconscious. Peter didn't wanna seem rude by refusing to eat due to misplaced distrust. Besides, you know what they say, if he was eating poison, he might as well lick the plate. That applies both literally and figuratively here.

Speaking of his unconsciousness...

"Mr.- erm- Tony, what happened? How did I get here?" Spidey spoke after he inhaled the rather good tasting cronut.

"I could ask the same of you. Mind telling me why I had to save you from becoming a Spider-Man sized splat on the cement? Which, to answer your question, was right before you fell unconscious and I had to take you back to my tower to see if you were alright. What did you do? Prick your finger on a magic spindle? Don't tell me you dreamed of kissing a frog to wake you up." Ironman leaned on the island counter across from Spidey with an amused smile.

"Okay, one," Peter held up a finger, "Those are two very different fairytales. Two, I probably wouldn't have died, even if you hadn't gotten me, with my powers and all. Three, um, thanks." Spidey finished off.

Tony huffed. "Sure, Spidey, anytime. Seriously though, what happened out there?"

"Oh," The younger hero scratched the back of his head, "Remember those guys from that parking lot a couple of days back? They chased me around in a helicopter, drugged me, took me into said helicopter, and I escaped, to keep a long story short."

Tony sighed and scratched his chin in though, "I had a suspicion it would be them, but I was hoping it wouldn't. Truth is I was actually looking for you when I found you falling from the sky. I wanted to warn you of the possibility of their interference. Seems I was a little late though, huh?"

"Wait, you knew they would attack me? How?" Peter raised a brow.

"It was less of a 'know' and more of an educated guess. They guys who tried to capture you had Hydra insignias, but they weren't technically Hydra. They are actually just private weapons suppliers for the big guys up top. They are more of a side branch, really. Thing is, every private company desperately wants the attention of Hydra, so naturally, they want to make something big enough to be really noticed. If they make something good, they'll no doubt be promoted big time. This particular branch we are dealing with happen to have lots of resources and a plan. We suspected that if they would go through the trouble to get you in the first place, they probably won't give up so easily." Stark explained.

"So, what your telling me is a power-hungry, weapon-supplying branch of Hydra is hunting me for God knows what reason." Peter asked as he held his head in his hands . Just the thought of how exhausting all this would be made him tired.

"Well, we do have some idea, actually. Genetic experimentation, most likely." Tony nodded as he stated the fact bluntly.

This time Peter's head hit the island counter with a soft thud. He groans in exasperation. "Experimentation: that's a word I don't like. Right up their with root canal and broccoli. Sounds like my kinda party."

Tony chuckled and patted the teens shoulder, "Don't worry, kid. We'll protect you from the big, bad Hydra wannabes until the whole business is sorted out. Besides, I bet hanging with the Avengers is a hell a lot better than school."

Peter froze. School? Why did he mention school? Did Ironman know about him being underage? "What do you mean?" Spider-Man asked, hoping the question didn't sound too suspicious.

"You know, college. There's no way you're over twenty-three." Tony eyed him as if confirming with himself his deduction.

"Right, college. I don't have to worry about that too much. We're on break." Peter went along with Tony's theory. Better to give himself a believable cover now rather than later.

"Break? But it's only April." Tony raised a brow.

"Spring break." Peter amended.

The elder man nodded. "Right, Easter and all that jazz. Anyway, back on the topic at hand-"

"Tony, who are you talking- oh. You're awake? That's good." Bruce Banner walked in carrying a cup of coffee. "Are you feeling any unusual side effects? Dizzy? Nauseous?"

"No, I'm fine. A bit unfocused after waking, but it seemed natural. Um... you're Bruce Banner." Peter nearly smacked himself as the obvious after-statement slipped out. Spidey couldn't help it though, he was in awe. In front of him was one of the greatest role models in science he had ever had.

Bruce chuckled, "That's right. Seems your perception is fine. Let me guess, fan of the big guy?" His grin grew mirthless as he seemed to get lost in thought for the briefest of moments.

"No, no! I mean... sure, the Hulk is cool and all. Not a huge fan the whole 'Smash everything' routine since it's pretty dangerous for the innocents, but the Jolly Green Giant is still pretty sick. That's not really why I know who you are though. I was more referring to the work you've done in genetics. Um... you've been a role model of mine for years. I wrote a paper on your work in Gamma radiation once. There's even a poster of you on one of my old science teacher's walls. You're up there with all the greats: Einstein, Newton, Darwin, Curie, Galilei." The teen explained awkwardly.

Banner gave the web slinger a shocked look, "You've seen my work?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "We're forgetting the important thing here: why the hell was I not mentioned when you were listing off 'the greats?'"

"Uhhh..." Spidey trailed off uncertainly.

"Probably because you're not that great." A smirking Hawkeye dropped out of the air vent above the fridge. "All those other guys actually made big discoveries in chemistry and physics. You just build high tech tin cans."

"That is so not true!" Tony pouted, crossing his arms. "And how long were you up there eavesdropping on us, anyway?"

"Long enough to know our theory on Hydra wannabes attacking was correct. And I wasn't eavesdropping. You were just talking very loudly while I happened to be relaxing in the vents above the kitchen." Hawkeye defended.

Tony rolled his eyes and spoke sarcastically. "Right-"

"The Hydra theory was right?" This time it was Captain America walking in with a long-haired, dark looking man.

Tony looked like he wanted to scream. "For Pete's* sake, can I have a conversation without everyone in the tower interrupting?!"
*LOL GET IT?

Meanwhile, Spidey is internally freaking out, though not for the reason one would think. Sure, it was cool he was in a room containing several of the world's greatest heroes, but there was one little, tiny, itty-bitty issue that concerned Peter far more. He was in a room full of strangers. He didn't know them enough to trust them. He didn't know what they did or how they reacted to things they didn't like. He didn't know his place.

Always know your place here, runt.

"Hey kid, something the matter?" Over the arguing voices came the low, vaguely curious voice. The man that Peter couldn't recognize had been staring at him and must have noticed his change in mood. The question from the normally stoic solider must have caught the attention of the others as well, for now they were also silent.

"Yeah." Spider-Man answered simply.

There was a moment of uncertain silence before Tony cleared his throat, "Anyway, as I was saying, it would probably be best if Spider-Man stay in the tower until we've located and neutralized the threat. That is, unless you want to go out there and get your a-, sorry Cap, I mean butt, handed to you again, web-slinger."

That made Peter nervous. Live in the tower? Even if it was only for a short time, it was a huge danger to his secrets. The hero was now much more grateful for having the idea to put that tracer in the helicopter.

"Actually, that won't be necessary." The wall-crawler began, "Before I fell out of the copter I planted a spider tracer in it. Wherever it went, I can find it."

"Hey, great thinking there, Spidey!" Hawkeye exclaimed, slapping the teen on the back. Spider-Man stopped the flinch. "So, how are we gonna get the info. You have like a tracking device that will lead us to your tracer or something?" Clint continued.

The younger scratches the back of his head. "Well, actually the location sends directly to my computer... And the technology is too primitive to intercept the transmission, so I'll have to go get my computer to download the information on something more portable."

"Great, we'll go get the computer now so we can come up with a plan to best shut down their operations a soon as possible." Tony clapped his hands and rubbed them together with a grin.

"What do you mean 'we'? I can't take you to my place. I've got a secret identity to keep!" Peter argued.

"It's too dangerous for you to go alone. You barely escaped unscathed last time. If they attack you again not only might they get you but we wouldn't have the coordinations to find you." Bruce interjected.

"Not to mention there's not much worth in a secret identity if you've been captured and experimented on. They would most certainly find out who you are anyway." Captain America added.

"Besides, who would you rather know your identity: the enemy or the ally?" Clint reasoned.

Peter sighed. They did kinda have a point. Besides, it wasn't like he was actually leading them to his home. It was just a random base. They couldn't figure out his identity unless they came while he was out of costumes. It wasn't like he couldn't trust them to respect his privacy, either. The Avenger group had already had the chance to unmask Spider-Man and they hadn't taken it. If that wasn't proof enough, nothing was. It seems the decision was made for him. "Fine, but not the whole team. That will only attract unwanted attention." The teen agreed reluctantly.

Smirking when he got his way, Tony agreed, "Wouldn't have it any other way. Though, if inconspicuous is the name of the game, rather than swinging and/or flying across New York, why don't we take the car?" The billionaire suggested.

Spidey shrugged, "Sure, I guess."

"Good, I'll tell Happy to start up our ride. Wanna be our third wheel, Steve?" Tony joked.

"Uh, sure." the Captain blinked.

"Great, meet you in the garage." With that, Tony left.

There was a moment of silence before, "I'm not a third wheel. I'm a majestic unicycle with noble training wheels." Steve said flatly.

Hawkeye's expression was priceless.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

After driving through the city without incident, Peter directed Tony to one of the more secluded parking spots by the park near his hideout. Conveniently, there was an RV blocking the view of any civilians as they got out.

"A cute as a visit to Central Park would be, don't you think we have bigger fish to fry?" Tony asked sarcastically.

"Of course, but how would it look for Tony Stark to park in front of a house and waltz in followed by Spider-Man and Captain America? People would be more than a little suspicious." Spidey said raising a brow.

"Point taken."

And so, with great care to not be seen, the three heroes, lead by Spider-Man, made their way through the wooded parts of the park and snuck to the backyard of Peter's hideout.
(Don't question it.)

Spider-Man opened the backdoor and as he lead the two Avengers inside he jokingly called out, "Honey, I'm home!"

The backdoor lead into the laundry room, and from there Spider-Man went to the kitchen.

"Spider-Man... Do you live here?" Captain America asked in a little concern. Tony didn't look all to happy either as he lightly prodded a suspicious sounding floorboard with his food.

"Seems a bit... unstable." Tony commented dryly.

"Not really, I just use it as a base." Peter half-lied with a shrug.

"Really, because I don't know about you, but whenever I watch movies heroes usually need a base to keep all their superhero stuff. This seems like a whole lot of space for a whole lot of nothing." Tony said skeptically.

Peter huffed, "Look, I'm just using this place as a temporary solution to a personal problem. It'll work for now. I'm just gonna go get my computer from upstairs. I'll be back in a second." Without waiting for a reply, the vigilante leapt up and wall-crawled up to the room he kept everything in upstairs.

Peter opened his computer to make sure he had gotten the transmission, and sure enough, the screen showed it had been received.

Spidey shoved his computer into its case, then put that into his backpack along with an extra costume he had made awhile back. He didn't know how long he would be at Avenger tower, and had to be prepared. There is only so long one can wear the same suit before it starts smelling rank.

He climbed back downstairs to the two Avengers, who he promptly urged to get going. The trio retraced their steps back to Tony's car. On the way back, Peter noticed Steve seemed to be glancing around as if in search of something. Tony must have seen too, because seconds later the man asked, "What'cha looking for, Capsicle?"

Steve must have not realized how obvious he was being, because the super soldier looked startled by the question. "Oh, well I actually jog through this park around this time every morning. There was this kid I passed by everyday that I met a couple days ago. I haven't seen him since then, so I was trying to see if I could spot him now."

Peter inwardly cringed. Was it too obvious that Peter Parker disappeared right when Spider-Man came to the tower? He hoped not.

"I'ts probably nothing to be concerned about." Tony advised flippantly as they approached the car.

As they were driving away from Central Park, Tony seemed a little out of it. Peter wondered if there was a problem, but the question on the tip of his tongue was answered by the billionaire's own accord. "Hey, Spider-Man, I know we aren't exactly long-time acquaintances or anything, but if you ever need a place to stay the Tower's always got some extra space. Even if it is only temporary."

Captain America looked a bit wary, but didn't say anything. Spidey rose a brow, "Isn't it a bad idea to invite an unknown super to live at your building? for all you know I could be some evil operative trying to infiltrate your base."

Tony shrugged nonchalantly, "Normally, yes, but you're a good guy. I can tell, and my read of character is never wrong." Tony looked smug at that while the Captain just looked skeptical.

The teen was silent for a moment. "Why are you so willing to help me?" With all the ease of parking a car in a shoe box, the insecurity slipped out.

Tony rubbed his chin, "Like I said, you're a good kid. You chose to save people when you could have easily used your powers for bad. Not many people would have, and I respect you for that. The good guys gotta stick together, you know? The public sure won't be doing you many favors. just look at Jameson. Besides, those Hyrda pricks messed with one of our own. they gotta pay. It's not like the public police can or will do anything about it, either. some things are just better left to the pros, especially cases concerning such a dangerous group." The older explained.

"Thanks for the offer, Tony." Peter sad after a brief pause, "I won't be taking it, but it's good to know I have support if I need it."

"Oh good, you caught my drift. I didn't wanna say it outright. It would sound too much like a cheesy line in an amateur fan-fiction."

Chapter Text

Spider-Man gave a pained groan as he nodded into wakefulness. His head pounded in pain, and he immediately tried bringing up his hands to hold it, only to find his arms stuck. The hero's eyes shot open. He was grateful for the tinted lenses of his mask, not only as an assurance that he still wore it, but it also dimmed the blinding glare of the lights on his unaccustomed eyes. Not that he could say he particularly enjoyed the sight before him... strapped down parallel to the wall behind him. What made it all the worse was the sight of the Avengers, the ones that accompanied him anyway, also bound in various fashions.

Spidey exhaled in frustration. If only he had known how this would turn out. But how could he have expected to? How could anyone think that a lowly Hydra wannabe could capture four of the Avengers plus company? Certainly not himself, obviously. But really it wasn't worth pondering anymore. Even so, Peter couldn't help but think of how he had ended up in this position.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

"Okay," Peter said as he slipped his computer out of its case. He had dropped the backpack off in the room he had woken up in, "Let's get these jerks."

The costume clad teen opened the computer and with it the location of the Hydra weapon support base.

"JARVIS, download the address into my armor and pull up a visual." Ironman commanded. Seconds later, a holographic blueprint projected from the area on the suit's chest around the unibeam.

"This place is an old warehouse that was used before I was able to take over the clean up of New York after the alien invasion. It was sold off to an anonymous buyer after it was deemed useless to the city. Obviously city inspectors have been lacking if some person was able to make a weapons base here." Stark elaborated.

Hawkeye crossed his arms, "History lessons aside, how exactly do we plan on dealing with these bozos?"

The billionaire shrugged. "I don't know, hit 'em hard, strive to win. We're the Avengers. You know, World's Greatest Heroes? I doubt we really need an elaborate plan for these guys."

"Oh really, and how many successful missions have you had with that as your big plan?" Clint raised a brow.

"Hasn't failed me yet, Big Bird." Tony snarks.

"Speaking of plans, who plans on coming?" Asked Captain Freaking America. Spider-Man still had a hard time believing he was in front of a seventy-something year old war hero.

"Well, obviously I'm going. I've got directions. You in, Katniss?" Ironman teased.

"Fine, but only to bail out your tin hide when your 'hit 'em hard' plan ultimately fails, Stark." Clint smirks.

"I'm coming too. Thor's in Asgard and this isn't the best situation to Hulk out in, so I'll have you stay back, Banner." The Captain said.

"Fine by me." Bruce took a sip of his tea and nodded in agreement from where he sat at the kitchen island.

"What about Falcon?" Clint asked.

"He's on temporary leave. Something about getting away from Tony and Clint's tiresome sibling rivalry. That leaves you, Widow." Steve answers.

"I'll come." Was Natasha's short reply.

"Great, now that that's situated-" Tony began, but was cut off by Spider-Man's, "I'm going too."

"You sure about that, son? You'll be giving them exactly what their after." Steve warns skeptically.

"I won't let the people I just met fight my battles for me."

Ironman smirked, "You got guts, kid. Dignity, too. I like that."

_~_~_~~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

In hindsight, maybe Peter's decision to "give the enemy what they wanted" wasn't the best thing after all. But hiding with his tail between his legs really wasn't his style. It wasn't his fault nobody could have guessed just how prepared the Hydra base actually was.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~~_~_~_

"Take out as many people as you can. Try not to destroy anything valuable. There may be useful information in their files or databases." Was the vague game plan from Captain Rogers.

"I for one would like to know what they needed New York's own friendly neighborhood wall-crawler for." Tony said with a glance in Spidey's direction. The iron suit blocked the older man's face, and Peter found himself wondering if he could interpret the tone of that comment had he been able to see said face's expression.

"They'll likely have something on house. If not, I'm sure talking to one of the lackeys will work just as nicely." Widow commented with an expression that was a creepy mixture of platonic and devious.

"Avengers, attack!"

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_<_<_

"Well, this is embarrassing."

The other four heroes silently agreed with Tony. After all, they had just smashed through a window, guns ablaze, into the main room of the facility. It probably would have looked epic to those watching. But there was nobody watching. The room was empty. Only spare parts that nobody had ever bothered to clean up littered the ground, and even those were few and far between. Just metal heaps under dirty white cloths, collecting rust in the dank building.

"I don't understand. The tracer said it was here." Spider-Man's shoulders sagged in shame. He was pretty sure he had made a fool of himself and, by extension, the Avengers.

"Hey, don't worry about it kid. They real place that helicopter went to probably just has tracer interference that projected the signal to another street. We can go back and see if we can narrow down your tracker's actual position." Ironman assured sympathetically.

"What a waste of time." Hawkeye grumbled annoyedly.

"Let's scout the area just in case. Report back in ten." Captain gave the signal to move and the five spread out.

Spider-Man shuffled past the piles of what was essentially junk on the floor. He glanced over it, but it was really only scrap metal. He couldn't blame the people for leaving it behind. At least they had heaped the stuff into piles though. It wasn't just a carpet of junk. The piles were all perfectly proportioned sizes as well, not only that, but spread out in the room in such a deliberately diffused fashion it was surprising. It was the most... organized mess he had ever seen. Almost suspiciously so...

Peter kneeled down next to one of the piles and went to pick up a loose appearing piece of scrap. It wouldn't budge. It seemed to be attached to something in the pile. In fact, the entire heap seemed stuck together. Like it wasn't even a real stacking of parts, but more like some sort of... stage prop.

Spidey was doubtful of if his worries were founded. He approached the next closest pile of scrap. It had a sheet over it, which he promptly tore off and kicked the pile. This time, the pieces scattered. Hawkeye, the closest Avenger, spun around and grabbed his bow in a defensive manner. He glared at the teen when he had realized it was the spider that had made the sudden noise.

Spider-Man waved apologetically, looking rather guilty, despite the mask.

Okay, so maybe his suspicions were unfounded-

Something caught the corner of his vision.

The hero stepped nimbly over to the small device on the ground, picking it up. To his mounting horror, it was exactly what he thought it was.

His spider tracer.

And all at once, the implications of the simple device being there hit him full-force. "Captain, this is a-!"

The arachnid was interrupted by the sound of huge metal sheets sliding out of walls and floors. They covered every door, window, and wall in the room. Several layers of iron wall coming together with a clang left the five caged in.

"-trap." Peter sighed despairingly.

"I've got this," Ironman flew at the metal barring their way, blasting it with his repulsers on the journey, then giving the wall a solid punch once the distance was closed. There was hardly a dent. "Oooorr... maybe not." Stark rectified with a scratch of his head.

"Team, regroup." Captain America commanded.

The four ground-bound heroes gathered rather quickly, but as Ironman flew over, there seemed to be a complication. The billionaire yelped when the suit suddenly froze and reset to the standard coffin position. This would have been less of a problem had he not been midair. The man gave a warning shout as he torpedoed down towards the other heroes, then groaned when he landed with a bang and was now lying face-down.

"What are you doing?" Natasha was unamused.

"It wasn't me!" Tony exclaimed, "My suit was hit with a sudden barrage of hacking systems. I was able to fend them off, but my firewalls were down long enough for an EMP to get through to my suit. It will take a bit for me to reboot."

Nobody said anything to that, waiting. The silence became long and awkward.

"Well?" Clint snapped impatiently, crossing his arms as he walked over and nudged the suit with his foot.

"It'll take more time than that! A half hour at most." Tony rebuked.

"So you're just gonna lay there like a discarded tin soldier for half an hour?"

"I don't see why you're is such hurry, Big Bird. We're all trapped in here!"

"He's got a point." Spidey adds.

"Nobody asked you, Bug." Clint snapped.

"Let's calm down and find a way out of here." Steve placated. He walked over to Tony and heaved the armor into a standing position, so the hero no longer looked like a big toy.

"Thanks, Cap. At least someone around here is useful." He shot a glare at the bird themed archer.

Natasha rolled her eyes at their antics.

"It could be worse, you know." Peter shrugged, "At least nothing seems to be happening."

There was a sudden click that came from above the group. They looked up to see that several ventilation shafts had opened. To Spider-Man's dismay, there was a hissing sound that emitted from the shafts, and a bluish smog began floating down.

"Oops, spoke too soon." Peter rubbed his head guiltily.

Clint growled. "I hate you."

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

That was the last thing Peter remembered before waking up. It was safe to assume that smoke stuff must have been some sort of knockout gas. It must have been a strong dose too, for the hero to have been out through the whole process of being moved and secured. The Avengers were chained to the wall similarly to himself next to him. They were also awake. He could see that the others were without their weapons, and Tony without his suit. The cool air of the holding cell on Peter's hands told him his gloves were gone, and with them, his web-shooters.

Oh boy were they in trouble now.

Speaking of trouble... Spider-Man's Spidey Sense pinged lightly in warning that someone was coming, and without fail, the door to the cell was opened seconds later.

"Oh good, you're all awake." An orange-haired man in his thirties wearing a navy sweater and dark gray slacks walks in. "My name is Spencer Smythe, and I'm sure you all have many questions."
(AN:no significance to it being a Smythe. I'm just lazy)

"Why are we still alive? What is your game?" Steve demands.

"Wow, such a downer right off the bat. But a simple question, nonetheless. It's because I need you." Smythe pulled a foldout chair from against the wall and placed it so he could sit in front of the heroes a good three yards away, "More specifically, I need him." The man pointed a finger at the teenager in the room.

Spidey looked side to side, "Who, me?" He asks innocently.

"Yes." The man stated, unimpressed. "Now the five of you are going to listen as I get up on my soap box and give my villain monologue. As much as following the bad guy stereotype pains me, I'm much to vain not to brag my accomplishments before going through with them. I'm sure you can relate, Mr. Stark."

"Can't we just skip right to the part where I punch you out and you go to jail?" Peter looks to the side when Clint sniggers.

"Honestly, Spider-Man, I think may want to hear what this is about. It's bound to answer many questions."

"It's not the birds and the bees, is it? Because I don't need those questions answered. I'm perfectly happy thinking babies come from those little sesame seeds you get on burger buns."

The whole room gave the arachnid themed hero a weird look.

"What? It made sense when I was little." Peter defended.

Smythe shook his head, "Perhaps we have over-estimated your intelligence. No matter. As they say in theater, the show must go on. I may not be a man of the arts, but I know what I've worked for can't be stopped."

"And that would be?" Steve presses

"Right," Smythe smirks, "I suppose it is time for a story. Or rather, a history lesson. Fifteen years ago is when this all started. I met the symbiote, an alien substance with one purpose: domination. I first came into contact with it when a colleague of mine that was studying it was taken over. I could talk to it through him, and made a deal. I would help it get power, and we would rule the Earth. As insurance to the deal being kept, it told me all it's weaknesses. Since that day, I have worked to create the perfect human, with tremendous power and complete compatibility with the symbiote so that it could reach it's full potential. That perfect match is you, Spider-Man."

"Okay, one, I did not sign up for this dating website. I want a divorce. Two, you said you had to create your 'perfect' human, and last I checked, I was born from sesame seeds just like everyone else in this room. I wasn't created." Spider-Man protested.

"Tell me, Spider, what exactly do you know of your father's work in genetics?"

Peter choked.

Smythe smirked, "That's right, boy, I know everything about you. I know more about you than even you do. I know all about your father's work. You know why? Because I'm the one who provided him with the necessary RNA required to make a blueprint for his genetically enhanced spiders. A DNA produced from the same substance that makes up the symbiote."

"No..." Peter whispered.

"That's right kid, you have the symbiote's blood in you. Look on the bright side, I guess you really do have some living family now." Smythe's face showed cruel amusement.

Clam down, Pete. This isn't the worst thing that could happen. I mean, it's not like there's anyone I really have to protect anymore. If it gets out who I am it won't be the end of the world. It won't be fun either, but what do you do. And it's not like alien blood is so traumatic either. I already knew I had freaky blood in me, knowing it isn't exactly of this world doesn't change a thing. That's right, you can deal with this Spidey. It's not so bad.

The hero's self comfort served him well. This new information wasn't so bad. He could deal.

"Of course, then he had to go and ruin everything by running off with the formulas. And our efforts to retrieve them were less than successful. Not only did we lose the formula, but also the only man who could recreate it. All we had left of his work were a bunch of enhanced spiders that we couldn't use because they were only compatible with his DNA." Smythe stated offhandedly.

Okay, that was worse. "You-You killed them." Spidey growled.

"Oh please," Smythe stood up and walked forward so he was face to face with the furious wall crawler, "Their death is their own fault. They shouldn't have run. I warned them not to."

Spidey shivered in rage. If he got his hands on this man he would-

"At first, I was furious. All of my work, six years down the drain, all because a nosy worker figured out too much an was too righteous for his own good. I was convinced I'd have to start all over. But then, ohh this is too good, then you came along. Your father was such a focused man, always thinking of work while present. He never talked about his son. His son, for god's sake. It was too perfect. Just think, your father died to stop me from getting my perfect human. Not only did he fail, but instead of some other poor sap becoming the symbiote's puppet, he's forced me to make his son of all people fill that role! Isn't that just so... deliciously ironic? The greatest vengeance, my boy." Over time the man's speaking had grown more crazed and fervorous. The desperate look in his eyes was unsettling.

Smythe grasped Spider-Man's chin in a disgustingly gentle manner, and leaning in close to the teen's ear he whispered, "I'm going to make a monster of Richard's son." Peter quivered as the breath ghosted over him. He wanted, no, needed this man away from him now.

Smythe retreated to his chair just as fast as he had come, a smile donning his face.

"We had originally planned on taking you once you were a full grown man, just to make sure the affects of the foreign DNA from the enhanced spider wouldn't tear your frail and underdeveloped body apart from the inside out. Imagine our surprise when you ended up bitten by a spider ahead of schedule and turned out just fine! Of course, we couldn't come fetch you right away. We had to let you adjust to your body's changes. So, as much as I hated that b!tch of an aunt you were staying with, I had to leave you there for a couple years. As infuriated that I was at her damaging my future ticket to power, I let you go on. Then when I was finally ready to retrieve you the witch had to ruin it by chasing you off! Though I must say, it surprises me that it took such drastic violation to finally drive you off. You're persistent if anything." Smythe recounts.

Spider-Man was mortified. This man... he knew about that?

Smythe continued on unabashedly, "So of course you virtually disappeared, which made finding you much harder. Then you wound you a captive of some crime organization! And let's not forget that whole hero business. My, you were a busy boy. But no matter. You're here now, and I can finally gain the fruits of my last fifteen years of labor. Oh, victory is sweet!" The man was practically gushing. Gross.

Spidey glowered at Smythe, "I'll never help you."

"Silly boy," Smythe retorts smugly. "You don't have a choice, now do you?"

"As for you four," Smythe addresses the Avengers, whom Peter had forgotten about until just now, "You have not been forgotten. You have your own places in my plans. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a symbiote to prepare and an invasion to plan. Adieu." And with this, Smythe was gone.

There was only a brief moment of silence that was interrupted by Steve's stern voice.

"Spider-Man, I think you have some explaining to do."

Chapter Text

I love you guys TuT

Peter glanced away from the other heroes, refusing to meet their eyes, "There's not that much to explain that he hasn't already told you. I was bitten by a radioactive spider that gave me superpowers. The spider was a result of my late father's work. Apparently, now I have alien DNA in me. It also seems like fate is a cruel mistress, seeing as I got these powers sooner then I was supposedly supposed to." Spider-Man wasn't entirely sure if it was bad the Avengers knew this, though he doubted they could figure out his identity from such little information.

"Your dad, did he ever mention this... symbiote to you before?" Tony asks.

"No, not that I remember. He never really talked about his job at home." At least Peter didn't think he had. The teen couldn't really remember much about his father, but he couldn't let the Avengers know that. It was yet another clue to his age.

"So we're dealing with the unknown here." Natasha stated bluntly as she checked the stability of the wall connected to the chains. No give.

"Well, it might have been a little less of a mystery if we were free. I could have examined Spider-Man's blood for that alien DNA. We may have been able to give ourselves the advantage." Tony recalled despairingly. "All we con do here is sit on our butts until something happens."

Spidey shivered. He wasn't comfortable with the thought of Tony messing with his DNA, but if it was the only way to gather information on the threat... Peter was glad that decision was taken out of his hands.

"Hey, kid," the smirk on Hawkeye's face told Peter he probably wouldn't like what the elder was about to say. "That guy said something about you living with your aunt until recently. Don't tell me you mooch off old ladies. What, do you live in her basement or something?" Clint snickers. He imagined the spider as a stereotypical fat old man who played video games all night and hissed at the sight of daylight.

The teenager cringed, "Something like that..."

It wasn't exactly that far off to say he had lived in the basement, though it was only a couple of times. On brutal nights, his aunt would shove him down the stairs and lock him in the basement until morning. Some days she had forgotten him down there and he stayed for more than twenty four hours. Sure, he could have broken down the door, but that would have jeopardized his secret. It would have also made the woman furious. The basement was anything but hospitable. There was poor insulation, so at nights it was freezing down there. In the winter Peter could see his breath. Luckily for the boy, the furnace was also in the basement. It was the mechanical warmth that had kept him alive on the worst nights. Maybe that was why Peter enjoyed tinkering so much? When Peter's aunt was feeling particularly sadistic, she would turn off the power breaker in the basement. The boy would huddle to the furnace, staring out into nothing but black all night. The dank room got so dark it was almost tangible. Sometimes Peter swore he could just reach out and touch it... grab at the suffocating dark and tear it away like it was just a sheet someone had put over his head. But no matter how far he reached he could never grasp the dark. Peter wasn't brave enough to leave the safety of the furnace so he could reach out further. The thought of just fumbling blindly in the dark convinced him to just stay put and wait it out like he always did.

"And she chased you off, huh? Her nagging for you to do something useful finally get to you, bug-boy?" Clint was full out laughing. He wasn't looking at Spider-Man, he was so creased. Peter supposed it would have been kinda funny in a sad way if he were a vigilante who's only job didn't actually pay and he was living in his surrogate parents basement. It was almost comical, how he imagined what Clint must have thought he was. Peter couldn't blame the archer for laughing. People seemed to do that pretty often anyway. The child subconsciously withdrew in on himself, as much as he could, with the restraints on him.

Natasha kicked the archer in the shin as hard as she could manage with the bindings, which, by the way, was still very hard.

"Ouch!" Clint exclaimed, "What the hell was that for?!" He glared at the red-head next to him. She requited the glare ten-fold and gave a short nod in the direction of Spider-Man.

Hawkeye spun his head towards the vigilante. His glare quickly faded and was replaced with a tinge of guilt when he saw the kid visibly making an effort to hide and avoiding looking at any of the heroes. Tony and Steve were both looking at the bird hero with eyes that said, 'Seriously?'

'Fix it.' Steve Rodgers mouthed.

"Uh, hey kid, I was just kidding around earlier." Hawkeye awkwardly apologized. "I'm sure whatever beef you've got with your aunt wasn't your fault, and will clear up soon."

"Thanks." Peter knew the archer didn't know what he was talking about, but appreciated the effort.

The tension in the room didn't clear much even after the accepted apology. That hardly mattered, though. There would be much bigger issues to deal with very soon.

__________________________

Bruce was worried. He clutched the teacup slightly tighter that was probably safe. The danger being for the cup, of course.

It had been almost eighteen hours since his teammates and Spider-Man had left for that Hydra base. The scientist hadn't slept all night. It was now 8:00 AM and they still hadn't returned. The radio silence did not help matters either. Bruce had already tried contacting his friends several times, but there was no answer.

Banner didn't know what to do. Should he go looking for them? What if they were in trouble? But what if they weren't? Perhaps Bruce was overreacting and there was nothing wrong. Unless there was. What would he do if there was trouble? He didn't know where the others were, for one. For two, if something was able to take out four Avengers, what could Bruce do to help? Even with the Other Guy's help, he probably wouldn't have enough power to save his friends. Not where the rest of them together had managed to fail.

Banner would need help, but where would he get it?

The man considered contacting SHIELD. No, he would wait a little longer before doing that. Bruce was pretty sure there was a twenty-four hour wait rule before reporting missing people. Did that apply here? Were any rules unaltered when the Avengers were involved? Well, either way it didn't matter. The scientist didn't like SHIELD all that much and would really just rather avoid them if at all possible. No, SHIELD would only be a last resort option.

Who else could he tell? Bruce didn't have the means to contact Thor. The Asguardian was rather exclusive in that way... He didn't know how to get ahold of Sam Wilson either. Not that Bruce wanted to interrupt the vacationing hero anyway. Bruce didn't know who else he could call. He wasn't the most social. He didn't have many friends, or any for that matter, outside of the tower. That left his list of allies to call rather short...

Well, unless he sought out Bucky.

Bruce didn't want to do that. Ever since the other brunette had moved in, Bruce had felt the tension levels spike. Nobody, himself especially, had really known how to act around the Winter Soldier, nor what their place was with him. He was always silent and serious, and slightly angry. Not the best conversationalist. Though maybe Bruce was just being hypocritical. If anyone was secluded and has severe anger issues, it was himself.

But even Clint and Tony are oddly silent around Bucky, so maybe it wasn't his imagination. The two most talkative and immature members of the team seemed to also sense the awkward uncertainty surrounding the reformed Hydra operative. It wasn't that the rest felt a particular resentment towards him. It wasn't that they thought he was dangerous, either. If Tony was worried about that, he wouldn't have agreed to let Bucky live in the tower. They didn't exactly trust Barns either, though.

No, the only reason the Avengers could peacefully coexist with Bucky was one Captain America. If it hadn't been for Steve vouching for the soldier, he wouldn't be here. Really, it was only Rodgers that could actually interact with the former criminal normally. The two weren't exactly the friends they used to be either, but they were working on it. One step at a time. Bruce supposed this was the reason that the old friends were the only two that could actually really communicate without painfully large amounts of awkward silence.

But he digressed. Should Bruce try to talk to Bucky? Surely the former assassin had already realized his friend was missing. But then again, he hadn't approached Bruce about it either, so maybe not.

The doctor sighed. Why must this be so hard?

The whole situation might have been avoided if The Hulk had been with the team in the first place. Bruce was still selfishly glad Steve had him stay back anyway. He knew the captain knew how much Bruce hated going green. It was why every mission they had, Steve would say specifically if he though Hulk was absolutely necessary or not. An unspoken reassurance passed between the two every time.*

Anyway, Bruce hoped the situation would solve itself. His team were big boys and girl. They could hold their own. If they hadn't come back within the next six hours, he would call Fury.

Bruce wasn't religious, but he prayed it wouldn't come to that.

___________________________

Spider-Man couldn't tell the time, but he was pretty sure it wasn't until a few hours later that something happened.

It wasn't a good something either.

Jacobs, the man who had led the attempt human trafficking of yours truly and was also involved in that helicopter chase, stumbled in. He was gasping for breath, as if he had run all the way here. His clothes and hair were in disarray, and his movements were panicky. The stiff muscles and wild eyes told he was coiled, ready to spring and lash out at any threat. It was a shock to the system for Peter to see the composed, confident man looking like this.

The strangest thing of all though: he was covered in blood.

"You-You have to help... it's gone rouge!" Jacobs cried desperately.

"Calm down. You need to tell us what's happening." Captain America's voice was placating, yet urgent.

"The symbiote... we told it we have its host, Spider-Man. It-It attacked. It betrayed us! We thought we were prepared for a situation like this, but we were wrong. It's sabotaged all our equipment." He explained hurriedly. Jacobs pressed a button on the inside of the door threshold, and to the surprise of the heroes, their bonds were released.

"You have to stop it. It's already killed Smythe and most of the others working on this. I don't know where it is anymore." As he finished his sentence, an alarm began blaring, and flashing red lights could be seen from the hall.

"Lockdown initiated. Please enter safe rooms. Repeat: lockdown initiated." An electronic voice came from the speakers.

"We'll need our gear if we're going to stop this." Tony directed at Jacobs.

"Third door to the left. It's all there, and all intact."

"You said Smythe is dead." Spidey started,"He said he knew the symbiote's weaknesses. Did he tell anyone what they were?"

"It was no secret. Every one around here knew. Sou- oh no." Jacobs cut himself off to stare in horror at his hand. Some kind of black substance was oozing off it. The moment he screamed, it reared up and lunged. The stuff hardened to a point and stabbed through his chest. Once inside, the goo expanded, displacing Jacobs blood and organs and causing them to burst out of his body. The Avengers plus one were far enough away not to be in the blood shower, but nothing protected them from the show. Spidey gave a horrified gasp. The others had grim faces.

The black slime, what Peter realized was likely the symbiote, crawled (slithered?) out of the cavernous hole in the Man's chest. It reared up, and to the surprise of the group spoke.

"Spiderrrr..." It hissed.

Captain America sprung to action. "Hawkeye, take Tony and get our gear. Widow, you stay with me here. We have to keep that thing away from Spider-Man at all costs."

The Avengers did as their leader ordered, and just in time to. Steve was barely fast enough to punch away the symbiote, which had made a lunge for the arachnid. Tony and Hawkeye used this opportunity to escape to the hallway.

"Stay back, Spider-Man. We'll handle this." Natasha insisted as she stepped between the teen and the symbiote.

"What? But that thing is after me! I can't just sit back while you risk your lives for me!" Spidey exclaimed.

"You can and you will. Giving this thing what it wants is the last thing we should do. We aren't dismissing your skill, Soldier, but right now it's best you fall back. We're the Avengers, we can handle ourselves." The super soldier explains.

Spider-Man reluctantly obeyed, slowly backing away.

Steve smiled, "You don't need to prove yourself strong, kid. You do that every night already."

The words gave the teen a sudden rush of pride, but it was short-lived. He had to focus on the symbiote, which was rearing itself for another attack. This time it jumped at Steve, latching onto the soldier. The man growled in frustration as he tried to tear the thing off to no avail. The thing was strong and incredibly flexible, so no matter how far he pulled it wouldn't tear off. The symbiote too the form of a fist and decked the Avenger, similar to how a rouge, extra limb would. The symbiote began covering his body, but before it could cover Steve's face, Natasha darted forward and kicked the alien. Captain America was strong enough to absorb the shock of the woman's kick, but the symbiote pulled back in on itself. The heroes may have counted it as a win, had the symbiote not immediately recovered and latched onto Black Widow's foot. The assassin scowled as it began climbing higher up her leg. She was missing her Widow's sting right about now.

A repulsor blast hit the symbiote and it jumped off with a hiss.

"Don't you know it's impolite to touch a lady without permission." Came Ironman's smug voice.

"Never stopped you." Hawkeye, with his newly found bow and arrows, jokes.

"Hey, I've never done anything illegal." Tony defended. "Here, Capsicle, catch." He threw the captain's shield to him. "Can't be America's most patriotic man without your fancy food bowl."

"Hilarious," Steve rolled his eyes. Meanwhile, Hawkeye gave Natasha her stingers.

"So how exactly do we plan on taking this out?" Hawkeye asked as he shot and arrow at the symbiote. The alien swallowed it up. The archer blanched.

"Depends on whatever it's weakness is." Ironman shot another repulsor at the symbiote, but this time it dodged. "Quick bugger."

"Oh yeah. What was that again?" Clint reaches for an electric arrow.

"Before Jacobs died, he said something about sou-." Natasha answered and shot with her stingers at the symbiote which had jumped at Steve, who had been preparing to block it with his shield.

"A sow? Like a female pig? Are we planning a sacrifice? A Spider-Ham instead of a Spider-Man?" Hawkeye snorted. Spidey glared at the archer for that wisecrack.

"No, he wasn't saying a sow, he said said sou- and then cut off." Widow elaborated as Hawkeye shot his electrarrow at the symbiote. This time when it swallowed it the alien gave a slight jolt, but nothing more as it continued to attack.

"Yeah, that makes more sense. But what was he trying to say? South? Sour? Soup? What starts with sou-?" Clint babbled.

"Sound?" Spidey suggested from where he stood aways behind Natasha.

"That would make sense. This is an alien after all, and since sound doesn't travel in space it wouldn't be exposed to it." Tony agreed. The symbiote shot towards Spider-Man, but Widow stopped it with her stingers. It screeched at her.

"Sound? But we're talking right now and it doesn't seem in pain. Hell, those stupid warning sirens are way louder that us it it's just fine!" Hawkeye disagrees, shaking his head.

"Not casual sound, we aren't loud enough. I think Jacobs was talking about sound vibrations. Loud enough noise sends shockwaves through the air, the louder the noise, the bigger the waves. I'm betting what they figured out with the symbiote is these foreign sound waves destabilize its molecules, causing liquefication and, considering its and organic and sentient being, pain." Peter explained.

"So where are we're going to find a noise maker that big?"

"Well, Jacobs said they were prepared for something like this to happen, meaning they had something on hand. If we can find and fix it, I bet that will do the trick." Spider-Man glanced between each of the heroes.

"Good thinking there, kid. Guess college actually is useful for a couple things. Now there's just a couple problems: finding the machine and getting the symbiote there. I'd say getting the thing there is the more pressing matter. I don't know about you guys, but grabbing space boogers in not something I want to cross off my bucket list." Ironman shot another few repulsor blasts at the symbiote, which seemed to be getting fed up. The alien rushed Steve, but at the last second pivoted sideways where it landed on the unsuspecting Clint. "Hawkeye!" The archer cursed as it covered his body to fast. "Not again." Were the last words they heard before there friend was completely immersed. Clint became a more demonic version of himself, covered in the black symbiote. His eyes were all white and teardrop shaped, and his mouth was far to wide to be natural with jagged teeth. The new creature screamed in anger. "I am venom! I want Spider!"

"Okay, we need to move. That alien just got some serious fighting advantages with a host." Ironman flew over to Spider-Man and grabbed the teen's arms,"Come on, kid we're going on a trip."

"Could it be in our favorite rocket ship?" Spidey jokes.

"That was terrible."

"Aww, come on, alien? Space? Rocket? Get it?"

Ironman flew from the room with Spidey in hand, Widow and Captain America close behind, with the symbiote controlled Clint.

"Will Clint be okay in there?" Steve asks Tony with a worried glance back at their teammate.

"Should be, as long as this 'Venom' creature doesn't deliberately try hurting him."

The four heroes were racing down the main hall. There were plenty of side doors and halls, but it wasn't worth checking them. Whatever it was they were looking for would probably be in the center of the whole operation. Speaking of center, the hall suddenly ended in a large, dome-shaped room. Several monitors and machines bordered the walls. Bodies, who knows if they were alive or dead, littered the floor. In the center sat a large machine that had a drill-shaped nozzle that looked like whatever the machine was for, it would come out of there. The thing looked like it was ready to use, but nobody had used it. Several of the screens had an image of the same machine on them, one of the screens labeled it, 'Sonic Wave Simulator'.

"Huh, well that was easier than expected." Tony commented with a smirk. He dropped Spidey next to the device. "JARVIS, scan for complications."

There was a brief pause as Stark listened to his AI's observations.

"Okay, JARVIS says the machine is in working order, but its powers source was disabled. I can reroute all of the power from the suit into the machine to make it work, but you'll need to distract Venom while I'm hooking up. I'll also be defenseless. I'll need to open the ducts between my suit's armor pieces to allow natural air filtration instead of artificial filtering. If that alien gets in my suit, I'm a dead man, so I'll need defense. Once the machine starts working, someone will have to get the symbiote under the beams blast range. Until than, just play with it or something. I'll get to work than." As Tony's explanation ended, venom finally caught up to them.

"You heard the man. Spidey, stay by Tony. Widow and I can keep Clint busy." Captain America directed, cutting off the venomized Hawkeye who had made a beeline for the young vigilante.

"You can't stop Venom! We will be one!" The monster shrieked furiously as it made to hit Captain America.

Steve blocked the blow with his shield and threw a fist at the creature, but withdrew when a spike of black shot out of it's stomach and attempted to stab the soldier. Steve grabbed the dodged limb and heaved the creature over his shoulder, throwing it further away from the genius and vigilante.

Venom prepared to charge back, but was stopped by Natasha who ran at him and kicked off the thing's chest, launching herself in the air. While Venom stumbled back a little from the blow, Widow preformed a mid-air flip and landed on the alien symbiote' shoulders. She wrapped her legs around its neck and threw all her weight back, bringing the monster down. Before she could get crushed under its weight she twisted her body to be on top of the falling man, and by the time he had hit the ground she had Venom in a chokehold.

The symbiote gave an enraged roar as he struggled out of Widow's grip and attempted to kick her away. Natasha dodged the leg, but unfortunately did not account for Venom's ability to create trendils. A black, vine-like limb shot from the side of Venom's still extended leg and wrapped itself around the assassin. Before she could slip out the symbiote brought down it's leg, which also threw down the Avenger with it. Widow was briefly disoriented, so when Venom used the trendil to throw Natasha across the room it was all she could manage to stop from smashing her head in on the wall. She managed to buffer the crash with her feet, but the loud crack her body made when she hit, and her body crumpled to the floor was unsettling.

The symbiote looked at the slumped woman, his face suddenly turning to one of shocked remorse, "Na... tash..." The rest of the name was cut off by a growl as Venom's face turned back to rage. "No. Get Spider!"

Venom was kicked in the back of the head by Steve, who had rushed over when he saw Widow being grabbed. "Come on, Clint, I know you're in there. You don't want to hurt Natasha. You don't want to hurt me or the rest of your team. We're friends." Captain America reasoned.

"No! Not Bird! Only Venom!"

The symbiote punched at the super solider, but his fist intercepted with the circular shield. Venom expected this and wrapped his fingers around the shield to hold it in place. The alien pulled it towards him, and with it Captain America. Simultaneously, Venom clenched did other fist and brought it crushing into the soldiers gut. Steve grunted in pain and doubled over just slightly, but it was enough for Venom to grab him and throw him to the ground, pinning down the Captain.

"Need... Spider..." The symbiote substance around Clint's body seemed to be convulsing, as if unstable. Venom seemed to be focusing on maintaining the form, but was unable. The creature glanced back at Spidey. It's eyes darted between its prey, and the silent Ironman. The eyes finally settled on the billionaire and narrowed.

In that moment, Peter realized two things: one, Venom couldn't use just any body for long periods of time due to lack of compatibility. If Venom got on Spider-Man, there was no telling how long he would be trapped in there. It would most certainly hurt, and likely leave lasting changes since Venom would not only be able to bind to his outsides, but his insides, his DNA, and very being as well. He might not even be able to come back ever. The second thing he realized was Venom knew exactly what Tony was doing, and knew exactly how to stop it.

When Venom suddenly separated, leaving a boneless Clint collapsed on Captain America and darted with surprising speed towards a defenseless Tony, Peter knew he had a choice. It was him or Tony. The couple of seconds it would take for the symbiote to take Peter would be enough for Tony to finish and Steve to recover enough to haul ass and assist Ironman. But who knew how long it would take to get the symbiote off? It might be to late. His second option was to let the symbiote get to the elder hero. Peter would be safe.

Honestly, was it really even a question that had to be asked?

Spidey tackled the moving blob of space goo. It's first reaction was to attack, but upon realizing who it was, the symbiote gave a pleased purr. Peter shivered at how creepy that was. But as long as the alien's attention was off Tony, it was alright. Peter could serve as a distraction.

The symbiote latched onto Spidey's hands, slowly encasing the teen in the substance it spread silently over his body, and the boy allowed it to happen. As the creature began sliding over his face, he saw Captain America running over to him out of the corner of his eye. He vaguely heard someone call out for him, then a different voice exclaimed, "finished!" But that didn't matter to him. Nothing did. All his senses, everything that was him was slowly being smothered. And then came the pain. Peter was pretty sure he was screaming. It felt like something was tearing into him, shoving into every pore on his skin and ripping him apart from the inside. In a moment of pure craziness, he almost laughed. Strangely, it felt exactly felt like that time. But that time felt so long ago, surely this pain couldn't be exactly the same, like he seemed to think it was. Could it? Yes, yes it could. This is the same. That man and the symbiote were both the same. They violated Peter. They got in him. Got into his head and just tore, ripped him to shreds. They were both selfish, hurting Peter for their own gain, taking him, taking what wasn't theirs and using him. Deep down all the bad guys were the same. Everything they wanted was the same. What was worse was Peter was always the same too, because just like last time, the first time he was violated in this way, he was acting the same. Once again he would just lay there and take it. He wasn't fighting back. He just took what he deserved. The only difference was this time, there were a lot less tears. That, and this time, he didn't know if he would wake up again. Did he want to wake up again? Maybe. But Peter didn't know if he had what it took. Did he have the strength to rise the broken? Perhaps he did, perhaps he didn't. He could figure it out later. For now, he would just sleep.

Peter wondered if the Avengers would save him.

Peter wondered what it was he wanted the Avengers to save him from.

Peter wondered what that sound was, and why it seemed to hurt us so much.

Chapter Text

"Cap, you have to get Spider-Man in range of sonic pulses now! There's no telling what could happen if that symbiote has the chance to bond with him completely." Ironman shouts from where he is stuck powering the machine.

"I'm on it!" Steve rushes up behind the symbiote and locked his arms under Spidey's own, successfully pinning the vigilante against his chest all while preventing the other's arms from moving. The symbiote struggles and screams, but isn't strong enough yet to throw off the super soldier in its half-bonded state. Steve drags the kicking venomized hero into the sonic blast range. The Captain grunts in discomfort as his own super senses protest at being in direct contact with such high sound pressure. He felt like he was in a deep pool, as he felt the his ears pop.

Captain America couldn't complain though. Not when he knew the kid in his arms was in much more pain. The screams of Venom overpowered even the blaring sirens overhead. The symbiote was thrashing around, desperate to get out of the foreign pressure. The thing was too weak though, even now Steve could see the black substance that was Venom rippling. It was unstable on Spider-Man's body. It still clung tight though, and the soldier realized that this alien wouldn't just fall off on its own.

"The sonic waves are destabilizing its partials, and Venom is to weak to continue the bonding process any further while there. It won't come of by itself though, you'll need to take it off Spidey by force!" Tony explained.

"How? I can't keep it in here and rip it off at the same time." Steve wasn't sure how this was going to work. Could he risk letting Venom go long enough to pin it to the floor and then rip it off?

"Don't worry Cap, I've got you covered." Steve turned towards the new voice. Hawkeye had apparently come to his senses and walked over. "Besides, I've got a score to settle with that stupid space turd." Clint growled out the insult, obviously sore about being used as it's puppet. The poor archer just couldn't catch a break.

Steve smiled at his teammate, but it disappeared as the alien gave a particularly strong lurch and almost escaped. Steve focused on holding it down. "Good to see you back in the game, soldier. Mind speeding it up though?"

Venom's pained screeching grew more desperate and crescendoed in volume. Clint wasted no time in moving forward to confront the alien. The symbiote growled, and in a last ditch effort, kicked out at the archer. Said Avenger caught the leg and held it in place as he darted forward and punched the symbiote in the gut, simultaneously grabbing the costume-like alien and pulling.

"Be careful not to hurt the kid." Steve reminded as he felt the buffered pressure of the blow.

"Didn't hear that when I was the one with the fancy new outfit." Clint smirked sardonically.

"I didn't dish out anything I didn't think you could handle, Agent." Steve blushed a little guiltily despite his reassurance.

"Yeah, yeah," Clint grunts as he pulls on the suit at it's stomach, but there was little give. "Damn, slippery little bugger..."

The symbiote bellows its fury at the former assassin, who glares back. "Will you just shut up?" The man growls in frustration as he slams a hand over the damn things face. Finding more purchase in the suit here, he fists the "fabric" and pulls. To the archers delight, the symbiote gives, and the more he pulls at the mask, the more the thing begins unraveling around Spider-Man's hands and feet. Soon, the symbiote only covers the vigilante's head, and with one final, hard tug, the symbiote comes off.

With a shout of victory, Clint throws the symbiote on the floor, and watched as it writhes and squirms under the hard pressure of the sonic waves. Soon, the alien is only about the size of a baseball. At this point, Clint picks it up and quickly brings it over to a clear containing unit he had spotted earlier, presumably made for the symbiote originally, seeing as he was in a lab devoted to it. He shoves Venom into the contained and seals it shut. The angry symbiote slams into the sides of the tube, but can't escape. Hawkeye laughs. "Not so scary now, are we?"

Clint turned back around just as the sonic pulse machine was turned off. He spotted his team leader, who looked at a loss of what to do. He still held Spidey, now it was less of a restrictive hold and more of a supporting one. Clint was baffled though, as he saw Spidey's lolling head of... brown hair?

Clint spotted the remains of a shredded Spider-Man mask on the floor as he walked over. Huh. Well oops?

As the archer got closer, he heard the younger groan in pain. The head slowly rose and met his eyes.

Hawkeye got one glance at the face before him and his jaw dropped.

"Holy shi-!"

~~~~~~~#JustRealizedUnderscoresDontShowUpOnFanfiction.NetAndMightHaveToDealWithALotOfCrappyTransitionsLaterOn~~~~~~~~~~~

When Peter woke up, all of his senses were dazed and there was a loud ringing in his ears. The first thing to come back was feeling, and boy did he wish it hadn't.

Gosh, did anyone get the number of the bus that hit me?

His whole body burned. Burned like that one time- Oh yeah. Now he remembers. The symbiote had gotten him. What had happened after that?

The second thing to come back was his sight. He opened his eyes and was presented with a progressively less blurry floor. He could see his feet to. That confused him. He appeared to be standing, but he was fairly certain his legs couldn't possibly be supported him right now... Ahh, now he got it. He could feel some sort of limbs under his arms, holding him up.

Then he could move. With a pained groan, he lifted his head. His eyes met with Hawkeye's.

That's strange, usually I don't get direct eye contact with people because they can't tell where my eyes are under the mask lenses.

Finally, the teens hearing came back. The ringing had faded out and he could hear the tail end of whatever it was Hawkeye was moving his mouth to say.

"-hit!"

Huh, wonder what that was. Hey, is he still able to maintain eye contact? And why does everything seem more colorful that normal? Usually the tint of my mask lenses dull all the-

Wait a minute.

The boy brought a shaking hand to his face.

Bare skin.

He lunged forward, out of the arms of whoever had been holding him up, and stumbled to the ground. Both hands were up to cover his unmasked face.

Clint flinched away at the brief flicker of betrayal he had seen in the kid's eyes.

"Kid, I'm sorry about your mask. I didn't realize it had cons off when I got the symbiote off you." The archer apologized. He figured the kid must be sensitive about his identity to have reacted as he did. Today was not his day.

Peter was freaking out. What should he do? Face the Avengers or run? If the Avengers knew who he was, what would that mean for him? He was underage. If they knew who he was they would find out he was a runaway and a wanted witness. They would probably send him to Child Protective Services. And what if they revealed his identity as Spider-Man? He didn't like Aunt Alexandra, but he didn't want her dead! And if they but him in to foster care, if they revealed his identity... whose to say they wouldn't take Spider-Man away from him as well? The web-slinging persona was all Peter had left. It made him stronger and protected him. It was the only escape he had now. The last thing that made him brave enough to fight, fight both the unfair world and his own demons. This was his redemption.

He wouldn't let them take that from him.

Faster than anyone could stop him, he shot up and scanned the room. His eyes landed on a ventilation shaft. The vigilante shot a web up at it with one hand, the other covered the bottom half of his face. He ripped the cover of the vent off with his web and shot another so he could fling himself up to it. He was halfway through the vent when he looked back. Was this the right decision?

His eyes met with the startled ones of Captain America.

Maybe.

Peter took off in the vents, leaving the Avengers behind.

Meanwhile, Ironman walks over to his two teammates, an unconscious Black Widow in tow.

Hawkeye's worried eyes study the downed assassin, "Is she alright?"

"Yeah," Tony glances back down at the woman he is supporting with his shoulder. "She'll be fine. Might have a broken ankle, but that'll be the most of it. So where's Spidey?"

Captain America still had a baffled expression on his face while he looked at the vent, so Clint answered,"Kid bailed a couple of seconds ago."

Iron man placed a hand on his hip and snorted, "And you guys say I'm rude? A thanks would have been appreciated."

Hawkeye shrugs as he pulls off his quiver to check his arrow supply. "Well, I accidentally messed up his mask, so I guess it was identity crisis kinda thing."

Ironman perked at the news,"Wait, you saw Spider-Man's face? And he ran away because of it?" Tony laughed, "Don't tell me, is he, like, hideous or something?" He wiped a fake tear.

Clint scratched his head, "No, he looked pretty normal. Like a-"

"Kid." Steve cuts him off, still looking at the vent, but this time a little troubled.

"Well, yeah, we already figured that out remember? He said he's on college spring break." Tony's face plate opened and he raised a brow.

"No, he was young. He's a child, Tony. Like a high school student... he couldn't have been much older than sixteen." Captain America corrected in an unreadable tone.

"Wait, seriously? That young?" Tony gives Clint a baffled look, "Do you think so too?"

Hawkeye looks uncertain as he fiddled with an arrowhead, "Well... he certainly looks like a Spider-Teen, but doesn't necessarily mean he is."

"What do you mean?" Steve asks.

"Think about it. Your seventy-something, right? But you look like you're thirty."

"That's because I was frozen in ice. What's his excuse?"

"I'm just saying," The archer raises his hands placatingly, "It's very possible his unique abilities also have an effect on his appearance. Maybe the powers stopped his aging ability. Or maybe he just naturally looks young. There are medical conditions that have been known to cause premature aging. We might be jumping the bush assuming he's underage."

"Well, we wouldn't really know unless we had a name." Tony gets an evil gleam in his eyes. He's thinking.

"Hey, all I can tell you is he's go white skin, brown hair, and brown eyes, so congrats. Your search has been narrowed to about... like a hundred thousand people? And honestly, I don't think Cap or myself got enough of a look to pick him out in a crowd of faces with the same traits." Clint recounted. Steve nods his agreements.

Tony pouts, "You guys underestimate my skill."

"Whatever," Clint shrugs indifferently and turns away from the rest. "Just... don't do anything immoral to the kid, okay? I'm getting theses... vibes from him." Has he speaks, he only turns his head to the group, giving them a side eyes kind of glance.

"What do you mean by vibes?" The three looked at the woman of their group, who had apparently woken up.

Clint hesitated, as if unsure how to put words to his feeling, "Like someone who's dealt with so much they can't tolerate anymore."

"Got it." Tony distractedly spoke as he seemed to be using the holographic screens in his helmet, "Once bitten, twice shy. Don't harass the kid. Anything else?"

"I'm serious, Stark." Hawkeye glared at the billionaire sternly.

"I am too, birdy." Tony gave his award winning grin. If Clint hadn't known the man so well, he might have thought the other was still joking. But the archer did know Tony, so he knew he was serious. Ironman wouldn't torture the kid.

"So if that's all-" Iron is interrupted by the archer.

"Yeah, one thing: Respect your elders."

To the amusement of the others, Tony tapped his foot in annoyance and crossed his arms with a pout. "Dude, you're like three years older than me!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter groaned. He was really missing his mask right about now. On the way out of that Hydra compound he had found a supply closet, and in it, a white coat. He had torn it up and wrapped it around his head. Spidey probably looked ridiculous. The Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man: Now appearing in desert fashion!

So he had swung through the city looking like he had just crawled his mummified butt out of an Egyptian tomb.

Now he was climbing up the side of Stark tower. He looked for the room he had woken up in. That was where his stuff was. Then he saw it. Spidey tried opening the windows, but to no avail. He was about to just give up and break his way in when-

"Good afternoon, Spider-Man."

Peter's heart nearly leapt out of his chest at the mechanic voice. "JARVIS! I didn't know you are outside of the tower as well."

"Indeed. May I inquire why to are attempting to enter from the window?" The AI questioned.

"Ummm..." Peter self consciously shuffled, "Well... I just needed to get my things, and since I was in a hurry and the other Avengers weren't around I figured I could just get it myself, sooo... could you open the window for me, please?" Peter gave an unseen hopeful glance.

There was a moments pause as the AI processed the question. "Well, since you asked so nicely." The window slid open.

Peter grinned, "Thanks, JARVIS!" He crawled in and grabbed his backpack. He saw the computer he had left in the kitchen on the bed, and didn't know how it got here, but who was he to complain. As the teen got ready to leave, there was a nagging feeling in the back of his brain. Peter dismissed the thought. He always felt this way before he went or left places. Now is no different.

"Bye JARVIS, see ya around!" Peter called out as he jumped for the window.

"Goodbye, Spider-Man."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Tony walks into his tower an hour later to be greeted by JARVIS telling him of Spider-Man's visit, he isn't happy.

"JARVIS, why'd you let him leave?!" Tony demands.

"I was unaware Spider-Man was to be taken prisoner." JARVIS responds.

"No, not prisoner, just- ugh, never mind." Tony dropped the subject.

When the elevator opened on the Avenger's community floor, they were greeted by a slightly frantic Bruce. "What happened? You guys were gone for more than a day! And there was complete radio silence. I almost called SHIELD."

"Awww, Brucie really DOES care!" Tony exclaims, folding his hands together.

"Don't worry about it, Bruce. We've got it solved." Captain America pats the scientist's shoulder as he passes.

"So what happened to Spider-Man?"

"He booked it." Clint states before going into the kitchen, where Steve had also gone.

"Don't ask," Tony follows his team, along with Natasha. They hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours. They had catching up to do. Unfortunately for Tony, the elevator opened only minutes later with a fuming Pepper Pots.

"Anthony Howard Stark!" She shouts angrily.

"Ooooohhhh! Someone's in trouble!" Clint teases. Tony glares back.

"How dare you fall off the radar for twenty-four hours?! You missed a very important meeting, not to mention a pile of paperwork. If I don't have a fan-freaking-tastic explanation in five seconds-" she ranted.

"But Pep, I didn't have control over it! We got kidnapped by a crazy Hydra scientist who was plotting an alien invasion!" Tony explained whit a whine as he dramatically collapsed on the counter.

Pepper raised a skeptical brow, "You know what? I'm not even gonna ask."

"Oh good, you're learning." Stark grins.

"Just because I'm not getting on at you for your reason to miss work doesn't mean you're not going to make up for it." Pepper smirks victoriously when Tony groans.

"No whining. Now if these papers aren't done by the time I-" The red-head had been pulling out a chair at the island counter to sit next to Tony, but paused when she saw the seat of the chair. She reached down and picked up a rectangular, black computer case.

"I see you have taken to leaving things lying around." She commented unimpressed.

Tony gave the thing a side glance, looked away, then did a double take, "It's not mine." Tony informs.

"Or mine." Bruce says from the kitchen doorway, where he had been watching.

"Who's else could it-"

"If found, please return to Peter Parker." Pepper read off from where she had found the tag on the inside of the otherwise empty case.

The kitchen was enveloped in silence, and the woman started again,"Who is Peter Parker?"

A grin split across Tony's face as he resembled a child on Christmas morning, "Pep, have I ever told you how I couldn't do without you?"

"What do you mean? Wait- Tony where are you-! Aaaannnnd he's gone." Pepper wrinkled her brow in annoyance at her disappearing boss. "Anyone want to tell me what that was about?"

Clint sighed as he sipped on the coffee he had made while in the kitchen, "Nothing much, just something that could change the life of a certain friendly neighborhood vigilante."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spidey gently hit his head against the side of the fire escape he was sitting on. It had been four hours since he had gotten his things from the Avenger's tower the the sun was only just beginning to set. The teen had yet to return to his hideout. He was too worried. Why did he show the Avengers where it was? That was such an idiot move! Now they would know exactly where to find him. Peter didn't want to risk being intercepted by them if he went back. But he had to go back. All of his things, everything he owned necessary for survival was there. What if the Avengers confiscated his things? It would probably be better to try to get there and get out before they do. But was he assuming too much? Why would the Avengers even come after a small time hero like him? Maybe Peter was worried about nothing...

Either way, he had to move hideouts. Spidey was pretty sure he could just grab his stuff and go. Surely the Avengers wouldn't come. Why would they care about some vigilante who just happens to be underage? They don't deal with the small stuff.

Yes, now the boy was convinced. He would be okay if he went back to get his things. He could find a new hideout and make a new daily schedule. Things would go back to normal. How they were before this whole Avengers fiasco. He would be alone, safe and away from the people that might deceive him. People that might-

Useless brat.

Control him. People that might-

Know your place.

Hurt him.

Peter nodded to himself. Just get his things and go.

That was the mantra that repeated in his head all the way to his hideout. He wasn't scared. There was nobody coming to get him. He was okay.

That's what he had thought. What he had convinced himself must be true. So after he had climbed up the stairs and gathered his things. After he shoved everything that mattered into a backpack, all his supplies, money, and personal belongings. After he had checked that there was nothing he needed downstairs and was preparing to leave. After all that had been done, when he heard a sound from outside, he began to second guess his previous mantra. When he heard three familiar voices coming from the backyard, he froze. When he heard the backdoor handle begin to turn, he had dove for the basement. And finally, by the time he heard footsteps coming into the living room, he was quivering in pure terror, curled up in the corner under the stairs. He was just barely out of the dim light that filtered through the doorway, some of said light reaching down into the large gaps between each of the steps. This situation seemed so familiar, down to the last detail of the same type of stairs. He didn't hear the creak of a foot coming down on the first step. He had lost himself in the horrors his head had crafted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Tony walks out of his lab later that day, he is the polar opposite of how he walked in. Now, he was steamed. If he gave a voice to his mood it would not be kind. Or kid friendly. The billionaire was very rarely in such a bad mood. That's why, when he walked into the living room holding four other Avengers that were comfortably lounging and watching a movie, the room sobered. Or perhaps the right words would be is alert and tense.

"Tony... do you have something to share?" Clint asked cautiously, almost suspiciously.

Yes. Tony had a lot to share. He wasn't exactly sure how to go about it though. When he had gone to his lab, he hadn't been expecting to find what he had. How did he put it into words?

Three hours earlier:

When Tony walked into his lab, he was highly amused. He almost felt bad for this 'Peter Parker'. To lose his closely guarded secret identity in such an easy way? It was almost embarrassing. On the bright side, Tony could say he didn't think anyone else had their identity lost in such a fashion. Spidey was unique.

Tony snorted. For Pete's sake (excuse the pun), who even writes in the "If lost please return to: ---" stickers anymore? Seriously? This is New York! Nobody returns anything in the Big Apple. Either this kid was new, naiive, or just hopeful.

Anyway, it took relatively little effort or time to hack government personal files to get information on the kid. And apparently, Cap was right. The kid was just that: a kid. Peter Parker was the ripe age of fifteen. He attended Midtown High School and had no previous employment. He has brown hair and eyes, is 97 lbs and 5 foot, and his date of birth was 7/15/2002.*

The kid's parents had died when he was very small of a plane crash. The cause of the crash was unknown, and the police suspected sabotage, but nothing was ever proved. Based off what that man at the Hydra compound had said, sabotage was as a matter of fact the cause. Smythe had admitted to the crime. After Mary and Richard Parker's death, Peter apparently was taken in by his aunt and uncle, who he had been staying with at the time of the crash. Ben Parker had died a little over a year ago. Shot down by a man who had just finished robbing a convenience store. At that point the guardianship had been left solely to Alexandra Parker.

The last notable thing on Peter Parker's file was that he was M.I.A., labeled a runaway. Tony briefly toyed with the idea that Spidey had run away due to teenage drama and hormones. The image of Spider-Man hissing, "It's not a phase, Mom!" while crouched in his suit on a spider web on his bedroom ceiling entered his mind. The image was accompanied with several gothic looking spider posters, spider-themed bands, and other dark spider things sitting around his room. Tony shuddered at the disturbing image and shoo the though from his mind. That situation didn't seem right at all. No, there was another reason the arachnid themed hero was on the run. The billionaire's mind briefly flicked to a moment in that room with Smythe. The man had said something about hating the kid's aunt. He also mentioned that Peter had finally gotten away from her. Surely that was the key. The kid's aunt.

It was a matter of seconds before a file on Alexandra Parker was pulled up. The document stated the woman's personal information, things like age, appearance, occupations, ect. None of that really mattered to Tony. No, the thing that stuck out the most to him was he current status of imprisonment. Tony noticed he sentence wasn't listed, though. Not only that, but he guardianship of one Peter Parker had yet to be evicted. Apparently Peter's file wasn't up to date either, since it still said that Alexandra was his guardian.

What was going on here? These were government level documents. They couldn't just be outdated. That was illegal! But there was no way Alexandra could still serve as guardian from prison.

Then Tony found it. He had clicked on the case file for Alexandra Parker and in big, red letters the top of the document was labeled 'PENDING INVESTIGATION'.

Tony scrolled down further and found the cause of the delay. There was one missing key witness: Peter Parker. So Spidey ran away from testifying? Why would he do that? And why was Peter's word so important in the case study? What did Peter have to do with his aunt's crimes? Maybe that wasn't the question he should be asking, though. What Tony should wonder is what exactly were Alexandra Parker's crimes?

Tony scrolled further down to the crimes she was charged with. Drug trafficking... blah blah blah... illegal substance use... more words Tony didn't care to read... Child neglect. That peeked the man's interest. Was this why the kid split? His aunt wasn't taking care of him so he figured he was better off on his own? It would make sense. If his aunt was buying drugs, than perhaps she wasn't getting the kid his necessities either. Tony felt a curious twinge of some unknown feeling deep in his gut.

At the bottom of his current screen position, Tony saw the header for 'crimes pending investigation'. So there was more.

Tony went down further and his jaw clenched at what was listed.

Child Abuse.

Tony couldn't understand. Abuse? Sure, it made sense in that it was all the more reason for Peter to leave, but how could the kid even get abused? He was Spider-Man! The kid had superpowers! There was no way he was unable to defend himself.

'Unless he didn't defend. He wouldn't if he was hiding his powers.' A little voice at the back of his mind whispered. That was... plausible.

Stark scrolled further on to see the evidence under the accusation. There was very little. There was a very short list of few, but severe doctors visits. The injuries tended to look as if they were inflicted by another human, but there was always the excuse of it being something else entirely. Falling down stairs, clipped by a car, grabbed a kitchen knife on the wrong end in a sink of suds... and other ridiculous things.

The second thing was several school reports. Once the investigation had started, they apparently had gone to Midtown High School to further investigate Peter Parker. The nurse and a few of his teachers admitted to seeing several strange injuries on the boy. It seemed to be a reoccurring thing, as well. When questioned why they hadn't ever said anything about it, they had all responded of the constant bullying Peter had endured. They had all thought that any abuse was due to the bully. They had called home about it several times, but... well, it light of the new information that seemed rather counterproductive. When asked who this bully was, all asked pointed to the school jock: one Flash Thompson.

When the investigators had approached Flash on the subject of his bullying, the kid immediately shut down their newly rising suspicions that he was the cause of all injuries. Flash had admitted to pushing Peter around. He had given the smaller a few bruises here and there. But he had never, and the kid made a point to seriously emphasize the fact, hurt Peter as bad as Flash had seen. Flash said he knew someone else had been hurting the kid. He had seen the bruises and winces of pain that he knew for a fact he hadn't inflicted. The bully said that on a particularly bad instance, where Parker had had a broken arm, he had finally gotten the gutts to ask the brunette about it. Peter had apparently brushed his bully off and made an excuse. Flash said he hadn't believed Parker, but it wasn't his life to pry into, and thus had dropped the subject. The kid has also admitted to have laying off on the bullying. In fact, he had apparently barely even approached Peter for the better part of the year. But with all the injuries he was getting, nobody noticed and continued to assume it was Flash. When the investigators asked Thompson why he hadn't shut down the rumors, the kid responded with, and the file quoted, "Peter might not be the most open book, and I'm not the smartest, but when nobody suspected it was anything domestic for favor of me, he seemed relieved. Who was I to take that away from him?"

After that the detectives had been introduced to a girl who was apparently Peter's only friend. Or at least, she was. Mary Jane Watson had been pushed away and avoided by Peter for the past year. The two had become distant, of course, it hadn't been for the lack of the girl's trying. She had apparently been doing everything she could to stay in contact, but apparently, if Peter Parker didn't want to be found, he wasn't.

That was the jist of the entry, anyway, and Tony could say he was rather underwhelmed. Sure, the injuries were suspicious, but that wouldn't serve for a court charge. No, the investigators were fishing. Besides, Tony could think of one monumental explanation for those injuries: Spider-Man. Surely a super powered individual wouldn't allow himself to be abused. On the other hand... From what that kid Flash Thompson had said, these injuries had been appearing for over a year. Spider-Man had only been around for about a month. Of course, Spidey could have just been fighting crime in secret for that extra time. Or training perhaps? Who knew?

Either way, Tony still wasn't clear on why Peter had run away, and that frustrated him.

He scrolled down further.

One glance at the next two words made the billionaire's jaw and fists clench. The man cursed.

No. There was no way.

Assisted rape?

Tony really hoped that didn't mean for Spider-Man what he thought it did. If it did, the chance of abuse just went up to the hundredth power. The man continued scrolling. There were case results of a half completed rape kit. They could only get samples of what was on the bed. Speaking of bed... Tony cringed at the evidence photo. A mess of rusty and white stains on light blue sheets. He could hardly comprehend why there would be so much blood.

The case went on to say Alexandra Parker was accused of forced child prostitution.

When Tony thought about it, it was almost surreal. He felt his gut twist at the very thought. This kid, Peter Parker, who is Spider-Man, had been forced into this situation? But he had powers! Didn't he fight? The thought of Spidey in such a situation was so wrong. So out of place and nonsensical it was baffling. Were these two people really the same? Could they possibly be? They had to. It all made the most sense, after all. The kid fit the description Clint had gave. Not only that, but several parts of What he knew of Spidey's life fit with this kid.

The thing that most connected the two identities into one, which was also most disturbing of all the evidence, was the signs the kid had displayed. How he had quite literally flipped out when Clint touched him, how he tended to shy away from any contact in general, the way he pulled in and hid when Clint teased him, and... good lord... his posture as the symbiote took him.

It all made perfect sense now. Tony felt like a fool. If it were a civilian, he would have noticed right away. He could read people like this because he once was like that. But the man hadn't noticed. He had assumed Spider-Man would have his life in complete working order. He just made the assumption that he was safe. If Spider-Man had the time to help others, he didn't need help himself, right? But that would be if he was assuming that the kid put himself before others. Tony scoffed, yeah right. He souls have seen this earlier. He should have known.

Now there's a teen, a genuinely good kid out there. Scared, alone, and considering he hadn't been to a therapist, probably not in the greatest mental state. The kid deserved better than that. No kid should have to deal with that, superhero or no. Tony had to help the kid. Whether the boy wanted it or not.

Back to the present:

"Tony. Toooonnyyyyyyy~! Hey, Earth to Dreamer, you still with us?" Clint waved a hand in front of the billionaire's face, attempting to get his attention. The man shook out of his remembrance. Right, there were things to do.

"Yeah, Clint, I did find something. Something important."

And that is how, after a twenty minute explanation, Tony (who had the idea), Steve (who had a moral obligation), and Clint (who was guilty for his ignorant teasing and wanted to apologize) found themselves heading off to the kid's hideout.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Remind me why you made us come in civies?" Clint grumbled as they got closer to the abandoned house. They were taking the same path as last time. "I feel naked out here."

"Because coming in as heroes with an iron suit, a shield, and a bow would scare the kid half to death. Plus, we're trying to stay inconspicuous out here. That won't work if three Avengers show up at Central Park." Tony rolled his eyes.

"Are we even sure he'll be there?" Steve asked, eying the upcoming building.

"He probably won't be, if he was trying to avoid us. But there might be something there to point us to where he would be." Tony answered.

By then they had found themselves at the back door of Spidey's temporary house. Tony tested the back door: unlocked. The three men in their civilian clothes walked in. They entered the kitchen. It looked exactly as it did last time Steve and Tony were here. Maybe Spidey hadn't come back. It would make the most sense.

"Hey, Clint, wanna look upstairs? I believe your twinkle toes are best fit for such delicate wood." Tony snickered.

"At least I'm not so fat and clumsy that I can't go upstairs." Clint snorts before actually going up said staircase.

Tony rolls his eyes.

Steve goes into the laundry room. Tony isn't sure what he's looking for, but decides to ignore the super soldier in favor of looking in the living room. Like last time, he saw a big hole in the floor. He also saw a slight movement out of the corner of his- Tony whipped around, searching for what had caught his attention. No one was there. But, he did see what moved. A door that was swung wide open had shifted as he passed it. Tony looked into the widely ajar door. There was a set of wooden stairs, the older kind that had planks of wood with no adjacent blocks, so there were just gaping holes. Tony hated that style, but this was hardly the time to think about stairs. There was no light down there other than what little could filter through the door. It would be moldy and slippery too, if the dank air and smell that wafted up, plus the stone floor, had anything to say for it.

A basement.

Tony wasn't sure why, but he was hit with the sudden memory of how the kid had curled in at the mention of a basement. The basement. The pinnacle of everything classic horror movie. Tony didn't like basements. He never did. Though it was only after he realized how similar a basement was to a cave that he really tried to stay away from them. Especially this basement. It's resemblance to caves made him want to freeze up. He should walk away. The man shouldn't be thinking of this now, he had to find something. Anything that would lead him to Spider-Man. Why was he distracting himself with thoughts of a cave? Those thoughts never led to anything good. Tony turned away from the door. He didn't like basements, and neither did the kid, so why go down?

But... Tony turned back to the doorway. If that's the case, then why does it feel so wrong to turn away?

It was the truth. He had a gut feeling that he should go down. There was some kind of... pull. Like he would would find what he was looking for. Tony rarely just knew things like this. He rarely had a feeling something just had to be done. When he did have a feeling about something, it was never this strong. He had no clue anything could scream so clearly to him that he must do something, especially when that something was against his better judgment.

He was going down.

Tony took a tentative step onto the first stair, prodding it lightly to see if if would take his weight. The old wooden stairs seemed sturdy enough, but the man wouldn't take any chances. He gently made his way down, trying his hardest to minimize the amount of sound he made. Once at the bottom of the stairs, he allowed his eyes a minute to adjust to the darkness he had plunged himself into. There was only a little light coming through the doorway and hole in the basement ceiling, now. The sun had almost set. Soon Tony wouldn't be able to see his hand in front of his face, let alone find anything useful. He'd have to make this quick.

Soon, he could see vague, dark outlines of everything in the room, and by everything, he meant the lack thereof. He took a couple more steps away from the staircase. The farthest wall from where he stood, one that was parallel to the stairs, was barren save for a couple of most likely dusty shelves. There were a few fold out chairs stacked against the wall a little ways away from him to his right. Other than that, nothing.

The hero crossed his arms and sighed. So much for trusting his gut. There was absolutely nothing down here. He felt his annoyance rise at how uncomfortably similar this place really was to a cave. Every last bit down to the stone floors, suffocating air, cold temperatures, dark atmosphere, and the soft sigh of an occasional gust of wind that had made its way in through the entrance.

Wait- this was a house. An underground basement with insulation. How the hell would wind get in here? So what was that sound?

A soft gasp.

Tony whipped around, ready to defend himself, until-

Ah... there he is.

The glare of daylight after having his eyes adjust to the dark made it difficult, but he could still see the ball-like figure. They had curled up in the corner under the stairway, just barely out of reach of the light. The cowering and shaking boy hid his head in his legs and covered himself with his arms. He was decked out in the entire Spider-Man assemble. Tony could tell the kid couldn't see him, but at least knew someone was there. Tony bit his lip at the sight. This was Spider-Man. The same guy who had thrown himself between Tony and a deadly alien only hours earlier. They change was so drastic... what had that woman done to this kid?

Tony stepped closer to the smaller, but halted when the kid whimpered, "Please, Aunt Alexandra... don't... I'll be good."

The subdued voice, though almost silent, had enough power to make Tony cringe guilty. He wasn't the kid's aunt, he hadn't beaten the kid to submission, but he had caused the fear the kid was in now. He was the source of the boy's terror. The guilt was quickly overpowered by anger. If he ever got his hands on Alexandra Parker... how dare she do this to a child? A boy who was too kind for this world, and she had destroyed him. He was furious, he just wanted to punch something, preferably, that woman's face. But Tony wouldn't do that. He wouldn't lose his temper and scare the kid even more. Instead, he reassured, "Peter, I'm not your aunt. It's just me."

Peter timidly raised his head just enough to look at the man before him from the top of his eyes, "Ironman?" He sounded confused, and just barely less scared than before.

"Hey, kiddo. How's it hanging?" Tony chuckled a bit sadly, "Usually, that's a pun... not so much right now, huh?"

The kid looked a little uncomfortable, "W-why are you here?"

"We want to help you, Spidey." Tony went to take a step forward, but instantly stopped when Peter gave a violent flinch backwards. The kid's head hit the wall with a loud smack. Tony hoped the kid hadn't given himself a concussion. "Woah, calm down! It's okay." Tony raised his hands peaceably.

"I don't need help. Just let me be." Peter insisted, glaring at the older through his eye lenses.

Stark raised a brow, "Kid, look at yourself and tell me you don't need help."

Peter bristled, "You can't tell me what to do."

"I wasn't."

Spidey wrapped his arms around himself self consciously, "Just- Please, just go. I-I have to be alone. People around me get hurt. And Spidey is all I've got. You don't understand..."

Tony turned deadly serious. "Peter, I do understand. I lived what you're dealing with."

(Sorry for the mid story's AN. This is going to be a bit confusing, but I couldn't think of a better way to write this part. -words- is Peters thoughts, •words• is Tony's, and normal is the normal 3rd person perspective.)

Peter looked confused and maybe a little nervous, "Wha- What do you mean?"

"I know how the story goes, kiddo." Tony gives a sad smile, meanwhile ignoring Steve and Clint, who he knew had heard them and were listening, but staying out of site. Seeing how Tony would deal with this. "It all starts with the normal life. It's content. Maybe you didn't make all the right decisions back then, hell I know I didn't, but it's good. You've got what you need and you're good with it." Tony, who was about seven strides away from the kid, took a step forward.

•Before I built the Jericho.•

-Before Uncle Ben died...-

"Then bad things happen... something changes you for good, and theirs no going back. You get out okay, you figure you can deal with it..." another step forward.

•Kidnapped in Afghanistan.•

-Its my fault Uncle Ben is dead...-

"But then someone you thought you could trust, someone who was supposed to support through the hard times stabs you in the back. Breaking all faith you had in anyone." Another step.

•Obadiah Stane.•

-Aunt Alexandra.-

"Things become as normal as they'll get. You fall into a new schedule. But you don't forget that pain of betrayal. It changes you. You start pushing people away. Your friends, your family. To protect them. Protect yourself." Step.

•After I killed Obadiah.•

-This past year...-

"Then shit hits the fan again. Something happens and you have a whole lot less people to fall back on. You're alone and you have to deal with everything on your own. Those friends from before? You pushed them to far away." Step.

•The palladium poisoning... briefly losing Pepper and Rhodey...•

-Captured and learning of venom... and I suppose that leaves me in the now... do I have anyone to fall back on? No.-

"Guess that brings you to the now, huh kiddo?" Tony says, only two steps away from the boy. Peter seemed weary, but gave no sign that he wanted Tony to back off.

"Do you want to hear the rest of the story?" The man gave a warm smile.

Spider-Man wasn't naive. He heard the double meaning. The implied statement.

Do you want to hear how your story could end?

"Yes."

Tony paused, closing his eyes and rubbing his beard contemplatively. "Well... I realized I wasn't alone... and then got a second chance."

•The Avengers initiative.•

"A second chance?" Peter locked eyes with the other man, and even though the tinted eye lenses were between the two, they could sense the fact.

"A new family. Sure, it was a rocky start... and by rocky, I mean mountainous... but everything turned out okay. We have each other's backs. Sure, it's crazy and dysfunctional, and sometimes we want to murder each other, but we're a family. The Avengers were my second chance. Yeah, we argue. Sometimes it's almost like our disagreements could cause a war. But at the end of the day, it doesn't matter. Over everything else, we're friends. No matter what." Tony reflected in a fond way.

Peter shuffled slightly, then, in a dejected voice, "But... I don't want to hurt you all. This curse... I haven't been able to protect anyone I cared about before. What if... what if someone is in danger and I fail them? I can't-"

"Kid." Tony interrupted. "It's not your responsibility to protect us. We're the Avengers, we can save ourselves. You can relax. Let someone else do the defending. We'll protect you."

Peter swallowed thickly, chocking on his breath, "My... responsibility?"

"Is to be a kid. Let the grownups do the adulting. Be a kid, go to school, and leave the breadwinning to someone else for now. You're responsibility it to be fifteen, got that? You can have a hobby, if saving people is what you want, but it isn't your job. Not now." Tony finished the question of a statement.

Peter hesitated. Could he trust these people? Maybe... But he had trusted his aunt, too. Would the Avengers be any different? Oh god, he hoped so, because the thought of just letting go, letting someone else take his burden sounded so good. Even if the promise was faux... even if he was hurt again... maybe the time he could spend believing and just hoping would make it worth it. Let them do what they want, Peter just needed someone for even a little while, even if it was fake. He didn't have much to lose...

The child quivered slightly, afraid of the consequences of what he had decided. "Do- Do you really think I could have a second chance?"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't. Kid, you're to good for your own good. This world doesn't deserve a selfless person like you. If anyone deserved a second chance, it would be you. Certainly far more deserving than me." Tony confessed.

"So what do you say? How's your story gonna end? Will you give yourself a chance? Come to the Avengers?" Tony took one last step forward and crouched in front of the boy. He held a hand out to Peter.

•Let him initiate the first contact.•

Peter shakily takes the hand, looking to Tony for some sort of explanation. What now?

The inventor gives him a reassuring smile, then stands up, pulling the teen with him into an embrace. The older man pats the younger on the back before pulling away. Peter stood in a bit of a daze as the man began walking to the stairs, motioning for Peter to follow.

Tony's expression dropped slightly as he looked up the stairway. Clint sat at the top step, his elbows resting on his knees and his hand holding his chin, in a relaxed position. His expression was a mixture of smug, amused, and a hint of... joy? Steve stood next to him, leaning against the the doorway, a curious, if satisfied, look in his eyes. Tony glared at the other heroes.

"What are you looking at?" He snaps.

"Aww, Tony! I had no idea you felt that way about us!" Clint gushed. "And aren't you just the father of the year down there? You handled that wonderfully." Clint teased, but it was obvious the archer was pleased with what he had heard.

"Go to hell, Merida." Tony grumbled, with little actual ill intent. The man began climbing the staircase, his friends moving out of the doorway.

Peter watched the interaction. In that instance, he knew for a fact that once he went up those stairs, his life would change. Peter prayed to whatever god that would listen that it would be a good change. Prayed he wouldn't be hurt again. The teen started up the stairs.

Peter would look back on this time and realize that Tony had been wrong about one thing. This wasn't the end of his story. It was the beginning.

Unfortunately, the teen didn't know this. There was a long journey ahead of him. He would have to learn to rely on others. He would have to be stronger than ever before. It wasn't going to be easy, and it could hurt a little, but everything would be okay. He would be safe. After all, it takes a team to rise the broken.

As Peter left his old hideout that day, he felt something he hadn't in a long time: Hope.

He just wished the fear that accompanied it wasn't there as well.

Chapter Text

Peter woke up the next morning in the same bed he had been in for all of his other past stays in Avenger's Tower. After getting back to the tower last night he had excused himself to the room for some sleep. Sure, it was  pretty early, but who could really blame him? The only sleep he had gotten for the past few days was either because he was knocked unconscious or drugged. While dreamless, the sleep wasn't entirely satisfying, since he didn't actually enter REM sleep. That left for an exhausted Peter. Luckily, that exhaustion drove the nightmares away.

He dreaded their reappearance, and really hoped they would go unnoticed by the other occupants of the tower. Speaking of them... what Peter dreaded even more was being formally (or was it informally, considering the domestic context?) introduced to the Avengers as Peter Parker. Sure, he knew them from the past couple of days, it would be stupid of him not to get familiar with the attitudes of his fellow heroes, but this situation was entirely different. He was going to have to live with them, however temporary it might be. He was going to have to have conversations. Peter always hated socializing with new people. Scratch that, he hated socializing in general. He was pretty sure he had some form of social anxiety. He could never think of anything to talk about, and thus every time he had to speak with a stranger he clammed up and things got really awkward. It wasn't that Peter didn't try... he really wanted to have normal conversations! He wanted to be able to make small talk. But every time he tried, fear grabbed him by the throat. He would continuously go through all the ways the conversation could go wrong in his head. He would psych himself out and in the end never say a word.

Peter was just glad Spider-Man didn't have the same crippling social anxiety as Peter Parker.

But that didn't matter, now. That Avengers knew who he was, and no matter how hard he would try to hide behind the mask now, it was pointless. He was Peter Parker to the Super-Powered group now, and Peter was an awkward kid who was so weak and pathetic he couldn't even hold a normal conversation with a store cashier, let alone his idols.

But he digressed. Peter didn't have a single clue how the next few hours of his life would play out. He didn't even know if he should leave the room with or without the mask. And where can he go when he leaves his room? Are certain areas off limits? What if he runs into someone? What's he supposed to say to the Avengers if he does run into them... this is their home! What if he ran into someone? What does one say to an Avenger in their own tower?

Peter hates imposing on the heroes like this.

With a groan, the teenager leaves the soft, comfortable bed. It's probably best to get everything over with. He couldn't just hide in this room forever, however appealing it sounds. He glances around the room for a second, half hoping to find something that needs his attention more than the impending doom waiting for him at the door. Except there's nothing. Peter sighs despairingly, knowing he's probably just being a drama queen. He eventually opts to keep his suit on. It wouldn't protect him from the Avengers opinions on him, not now that they knew his circumstances, but at least it might hopefully ease his self-conscious tendencies.

Spidey leaves the room slowly, glancing down the hall to see if anyone is out there. There isn't. Peter meanders hesitantly down the hall, taking his time. Unlike previous journeys down this way, Peter takes his time looking around him. Every ten or so yards he would pass doors on either side of the hallway, lined perfectly parallel. The boy notices something on each of the doors, marking the wooden barrier. A shield... red hourglass... a hammer... wait, are these symbolizing the Avengers rooms? Do they room next to each other? Oh god... thinking of the World's Greatest Heroes in such a normal way, like college dorm mates or something, is so weird. Peter walks a little faster.

When the teen finally reaches the kitchen, his heart drops to his stomach. Tony Stark is sitting at the island counter, sipping a cup of coffee.

That's yet another thing that disturbed the boy. Tony Stark had gotten close. Too close. Peter was a fool to have allowed the man to get into his mind. That was how it always starts. First the man gains his trust, then stomps it into the ground, and Peter, having put his faith in Tony, wouldn't be able to fight back. Yes, Peter knows that rationally, it isn't likely the Ironman would purposefully get into his head to ruin him. Peter even wants to be able to put trust in someone, because being alone hurt, and even if it is faux comfort, the young hero needs that security. It wasn't to be, though. Peter's brain is now hardwired to assume everyone was and is out to hurt him. He'd subconsciously built the walls that he desperately wants to tear down.

Unless he doesn't really want to break those walls? Peter isn't sure himself anymore. While there's that desperate need for support, there is also an underlying fear that made him absolutely dread it as well. A fear of what would happen if he's wrong. A fear of how broken he would be if he was betrayed a second time by someone he thought he could trust. What's that saying again? Once bitten, twice shy. Well what happened after being bitten twice?

Once bitten, twice shy, bitten twice, Hope will die. His mind supplied helpfully.

Thanks Doctor Seuss, was his sarcastic thought back.

Peter was so confused. He didn't even know himself anymore. He couldn't control his thoughts or feelings... it felt like he was going crazy. He probably shouldn't be here. He should've turned away from Tony when he had the chance...

Chance. Probability. That was something Peter understood. What were the scientific odds of Tony being some evil person trying to get under his skin? They were low. The odds that a superhero billionaire playboy philanthropist wanted to hurt some mutated teen who had nothing to do with the older were very improbable. Peter found comfort in this fact, as he always had found comfort in science and technology. At least those things wouldn't manipulate him. Anyway, the chance of Peter's fears becoming reality were poor. One might say, 'Oh, but what about that Parker luck of your's? Or lack thereof?' Well, Peter doesn't believe in luck. There is only circumstance.

The teen shakes his head. There he went again, off on another tangent. He feels as though he'd done that often lately. Not only that, but these thoughts were constantly contradicting each other. Was he bipolar? He doesn't think so...

"Kid, you listening?" Tony's voice cuts through Peter's musings.

The teen looks to the billionaire, "Umm... well..." Peter blushed.

"Yeah, I figured." Tony smirked, "Anyway, come on over. I've got to talk to you and I figured it might as well be over breakfast." The man presents a plate that Peter hadn't noticed he'd been holding before. There are scrambled eggs and apple slices. Tony hands Peter the plate and guides the boy over to the kitchen table. Peter opts to sit across from Tony. Side by side is too close.

"I might as well just cut to the chase. You're a witness in a police case and a runaway, and harboring you right now is complicated and possibly illegal." The man states matter of factly. Peter cringed. So this was the part where they turned him in...

"Furthermore, If you are filed as a runaway, your parents can press charges against those allowing you stay with them or abiding you. Your aunt would almost certainly try to pin the abuse on someone else, and might try using me, and by extension, the Avengers, as a scapegoat. We really can't afford that bad publicity with all the complaints of damage we already get when we fight the bad guys. So obviously, we can't keep you hidden here forever. That doesn't mean I'm going to bring you to the police right this second, though." Peter looks up at Tony from where he had been playing with his eggs.

"The Avengers and I decided it would be best if we don't go to the police for a few days. We want to let you settle in, perhaps get a bit more comfortable with your new situation before we dive into political formalities. Maybe in a week or so we'll go to authorities. I will hire a lawyer to deal with this and I'll pay for the case and hearing to not be publicized. Anyone who knws about it with be held under a non-disclosure agreement. After all that is settled and Alexandra Parker-" Peter flinches, "Is put away for her crimes, there is, of course, the issue of living situations. I can't control your decision, but I'm guessing you don't want to go into foster care, and no rational CPS representative would allow a 15-year old kid to be adopted by an Avenger. There would also be identity issues on your side as well. If anything, I would recommend emancipation. You're old enough and I'm sure I can pull some strings, maybe set up a fake apartment and job to lead suspicion of you living with the World's Mightiest Heroes away. We'll go from there. Until then, let's just settle. How's all that sound to you?" Tony explains.

Peter is having a hard time digesting everything the man had said. "Why... why are you helping me so much? I don't want to be a bother. You really don't have to-"

"Stop." Tony interrupts. "I know I don't have to. I don't have to do anything. I'm Tony Stark. Anything I do is because I want to do it. I want to help you. Stop worrying about it. And money is no object to me, so don't get your spandex in a twist about it. Just accept it and move on. Speaking of the material from Hell, I would ask why spandex, but I guess it's a given considering your financial circumstances. I am definitely not going to allow someone who lives in my tower to wear something like that in dangerous situations. I'm definitely going to upgrade that."

Peter can't quite catch up to everything that poured out of the billionaire's mouth, "Wait, Mist- I mean Tony, you really don't have to make me a suit. Mine is fine."

"Nonsense. I don't take no for an answer. Besides, it will be a fun challenge. I've never had to take flexibility into account when designing suits before. It will definitely be interesting. But that can wait. We'll talk hero later, until then, you need to settle in." And just like that any chance of Peter talking Tony into not bothering with the suit was lost. Though Peter doubted he would ever be able to convince the hard-headed billionaire genius that he didn't need anything new.

"I might as well debrief you on how life goes around here now. Everyone usually eats supper together. Breakfast and Lunch are a free for all, unless someone decides to make something for everyone, that is. Friday nights are movie nights. Yes, the Avengers have movie nights, and yes, it is as awesome as it sounds. We usually take turns picking since a general consensus of a single movie is rare. Missions are top priority. You won't be joining in on those, not yet at least, but I figured you might want to know in case you are ever wondering where everyone has gone. Well... everyone except Bucky and usually Banner. Bucky is... well, it would be best he didn't go into dangerous situations for awhile. And Bruce is the last resort kind of guy, since he doesn't exactly love going green. So if everyone else is gone, you can ask one of them. I'd recommend Bruce. You're more likely to get a response. And let's see... that's all I can really think of right now. Otherwise everyone has their own routine. Oh yeah, speaking of routine, we've got to figure out yours. There's a bathroom connected to your room. All the necessary utilities are obviously in there... toilet, sink, shower, the likes. There's a small closet in there that should have towels, soap, shampoo, conditioner, extra toothbrushes and toothpaste, deodorant, and the other necessities. Oh, and shavers too, but you won't be needing that for awhile." The smug smirk Tony had at that last statement caused Peter to glare at the man. So what if puberty was hitting a little late? It would be more of a hindrance if anything else if he had to deal with facial hair.

Peter is salty and in denial.

Furthermore, there was a bathroom in that room? He thought that was a closet... He wouldn't give Tony the satisfaction of his surprise.

Seeing that Peter had no intention of responding to his jibe, Tony continued on, "You can help yourself to anything in the kitchen at any time, and the living room is always open for lounging. We hang out in there pretty often. There are a few gaming systems, so I'm sure you could find someone to play with you, or just play on your own. That's what teenagers do, right? Play video games all day?"

Peter shrugged, "More or less." Less in his case.  He didn't actually have any video game systems in his old house.

Tony took a moment to inspect Spidey. "You know, kid, you don't have to wear the costume everywhere. We all know who you are and it hardly looks all that comfortable."

"I know, I just..." Peter trailed off, unsure as to how he should elaborate.

"Right. I won't force you into anything you're uncomfortable with. Just know that whether you come out here with that mask on or not won't make anyone think of you any differently. Peter and Spider-Man are the same guy. We won't judge you for that." Tony finished with a sigh.

Peter still wasn't comfortable mentally with taking off the mask... especially around Tony, who had gotten so close to the kid underneath. The others were distant though. Maybe if he kept it off and avoided Tony he would be fine. Peter didn't want to take it off at all, of course. But, he also didn't want to draw attention to himself. Sticking out was always bad.

The nail that sticks out is hammered down.

No, it wasn't a good idea to stick out. Besides that fact, Peter knew he couldn't keep the suit on forever. It would smell, for one. And for two, he would have to deal with the court soon, as Tony had said. Peter needed to be prepared for being open in public. What better place to practice? Sometimes diving right in wasn't the answer.

So, it was decided than. Peter would be taking off the suit.

The teen looked at the billionaire, who had pulled out a Stark tablet and became occupied. Was it that obvious when Peter zoned out?

"Tony, I'm going to take a shower." Peter excused himself, standing up.

"Sounds good, kiddo. There'll be a change of clothes outside the door." Tony's eyes never leave the tablet as he types furiously, fingers gliding across the screen.

Peter couldn't find it in him to protest, and instead simply nodded. He didn't feel he would win this battle, anyway. Plus, the young hero didn't currently have a clean change of clothes. He left the kitchen, going back to the room.

Now that he thought of it, how would he clean his clothes? Peter had a hard time imagining a washroom in this tower. He could always go to the laundromat, but was he allowed to? Peter just realized he had no clue what his leaving privileges entailed. What if they didn't want him to leave? Would they try to keep him where they could monitor him? Would they imprison him if he left?

Peter was probably overreacting. Still, did he have to tell someone when he left? Did he have to ask permission, or just come and go as he pleased?

The teen shook the thoughts from his head. There wasn't any use in thinking so hard over a question he couldn't answer himself. He would ask later, if he could gather the courage. Yes, this was a later problem.

And with that, he found himself in front of the door to the room.

~~~~~~RTB~RTB~RTB~RTB~~~~~~~

It wasn't until Peter had stepped into the shower that he realized how dirty he felt. And not just from the dirt and grime of the past few days, but also because he could still feel venom on him, slithering over his skin, into every pore of his being.

For the second time in his life, the shower heat is on its highest setting. The shower is also much longer than necessary, Peter hopes Tony won't be mad.

When he finally leaves the shower, he glances at himself in the mirror and sighs. He's done it again. Peter hopes whatever clothes he's given will hide the pink tinge covering his entire body. Water burns are a nuisance...

Peter opens the door to the bathroom slightly, towel around his shoulders, and peeks out. As he had been told, there is a small pile of clothes outside the door. He grabs them and shuts the door again, quickly slipping into the clothes. Fortunately for him, the shirt has long sleeves as are the pants. Unfortunately, the clothing is much too big for him. This shouldn't surprise Peter, though. Why would there be teenage-sized clothes in Stark Tower? Also, he is by no means big for his age, as a matter of fact, he is quite the opposite. It's only natural, quite literally, for someone of spider genetics to be lithe, quick, and able to fit into small places.

Peter knows his size isn't his fault, but that doesn't make him feel any less self conscious on how well, or lack of how well, he fills out these clothes. They hang off him in a way that makes him feel like a six year old wearing their father's shirt. If the pants weren't drawstring, they would have surely fallen off by now. The shirt looks like that weird type that girls liked to wear where the neck was too big, thus it hangs off their shoulder in a school inappropriate way, because shoulders in school are illegal. Then again, those type of shirts were also usually cropped, so a girl would wear a tank top under it. He supposed that would mean he looks more like a girl wearing her boyfriend's clothes.

Oh god, Peter has to stop making these analogies that compares himself to a girl. He is as red as a tomato, and it's not even from the water burn. Only he manages to embarrass himself when nobody else is even around.

The teen has the sudden urge to forgo the 'normal' clothes route and simply put the costume back on. It isn't like he told Tony he would come back without the suit(N-Not that he wanted to appease the man!). As appealing as not leaving this room looking like this sounded, Peter wouldn't put the costume back on. He made a commitment to wear civvies, and had solid reasoning behind doing so. Besides... the suit is looking like a lesser choice by the second, what with how tattered and dirty (and black) it was.

It's this thought process that leads Peter to cautiously open his door, and turning around to close it.

"Huh. Wow, Peter, you look way more ridiculous in that getup that I had originally thought you would." A voice pipes up from behind.

Peter jumps so high he is surprised he didn't hit the ceiling, and turns so fast his back hits the door. It's Tony Stark again.

'Avoid him', his mind whispers.

"Slow down, kiddo, I'm not gonna hurt you." Tony soothes with a quirk at the corner of his lips. He eyes the younger boy critically. "Seriously though, you need something your size. I'll have Pepper go get some things tonight."

"Pepper?" Peter questions, still not leaving the defensive position he had taken against the door. Tony quirks a brow at that, but says nothing regarding it and instead answers his previous question.

"Virginia 'Pepper' Potts is the CEO of Stark Industry."

"Miss Potts really doesn't have to-" Peter is cut off.

"Nonsense. She won't mind. I'm pretty sure women like this kind of stuff. It will give her an excuse to get something for herself, on me of course. Besides, if you walk around my tower looking like that for any longer than necessary, I'll probably die of secondhand embarrassment. Don't apologize." In the end of the small rant, Tony had predicted and acted upon the slightly guilty and apologetic expression that had rose on Peter's face while he had been talking.

There's a moment of tense silence before Tony breaks it again, "Quite the blush you have there, Spidey. You're red all over. Literally."

"Right... I'm just gonna go then... Umm, bye." As Peter makes a hasty retreat, he doesn't notice the slightly quirked brow of confusion and narrowed eyes of suspicion.

——————————————————————-

Peter doesn't see anyone else for the next hour or so. He spends this time on his computer in the living room. He's working out better dissolvents for his web fluid. Currently, it dissolves slowly over the course of two or three hours, but Peter needs something that would get rid of the webs right away. He had developed an acid based dissolvent that could break apart the proteins of his web earlier in his Spidery career, but it is a bit too acidic, and often irritates human skin. If only he could find a way to catalyze the enzymatic processes that happened naturally without using a substance with a pH lower than that which human skin was adapted to-

The teen's thought process is cut off by a sudden laugh from above him. Peter closes his computer and looks up. Hawkeye's head is poking out of an air vent. The older man holds his chin in his hand as he leans it against the vent floor.

"Spider-Kid, is that you? You look great! Ten stars. You belong on the runway." Clint gushes sarcastically.

Peter gave him an unimpressed stare. "Thanks. It's from my homeless casual collection."

"I'll take twenty." Clint jokes.

"You'd better. It was designed by one Tony Stark." Peter plays along.

Clint laughs, but rather than at Peter this time, it's with him. "You're funny, kid. I like that." Clint pauses for a second, considering something, then says, "Hey, if you're not busy, how about we play a game?"

"A game?" Peter uncertainly repeats.

"Sure, why not?" Clint hops out of the vent. "What do you say to, ah, Minecraft?"

"I- Okay?" Peter doesn't know what caused the sudden... whatever this is, in Hawkeye.

"Great!" The man plops onto the couch next to Peter, who suppresses his jump of surprise. Clint pulles open a drawer in the coffee table that is situated in front of the couch. He grabs two PlayStation remotes and tosses one to Peter, who's Spidey-Sense alerts him to the oncoming device. He catches it with practiced ease.

"Hey JARVIS, turn on the TV and the PlayStation then open 'Minecraft', 'kay?" Clint asks, and the TV immediately switches on, the game already on screen.

Which is how Peter ends up playing the Minecraft for the next three hours.

Because Peter had never played before, Clint has to spend the first half hour teaching the teen the basics, how the controls work, what different mobs do, what materials build what, etc. They stayed together at first when gathering resources and charting the map. They build a house of cobbles near a village they found. It's a big village, with the four different types of houses customary to Minecraft, a blacksmith, and a chapel. Eventually though, they split up to do their own thing. Where Peter prefers mining down with tunnels and occasionally exploring an underground cave, Clint is spelunker. Not only this, but Clint only kill mobs and animals from a distance with bow and arrow, whereas Peter finds that close up with a sword is easier. Clint's obsession with the bow, though founded, is impractical. Peter comments as much. Their chicken farm is getting out of hand, and with the amount of feathers they need every time Clint loses his arrows, the weapon is simply inefficient. But naturally, Clint defends his Paleolithic weapon, and continues using it.

When they eventually get bored and exit the game, it is clear to Peter why the archer wanted to play with the sentence that the man mutters, "Hey kid, I wanna tell you something."

Peter cocks his head, a motion for the man to continue.

Clint looks anywhere but at the teen in front of him as he rubs his head. The older starts a little awkwardly, "Well... I just wanted to say- Well I thought you should know..."

Peter raises a brow.

Clint sighs and looks at his folded hands in his lap. "I'm sorry about what I said to you in that Hydra cell... I didn't know your life circumstances, and I shouldn't have assumed it was your choice to be living with your aunt. I didn't know your age, and maybe the stress of the situation desensitized me, but that's not an excuse. I said things I shouldn't have." The archer apologized, to the surprise of Peter. The teen had not expected this to be what the man wanted to talk about. He thought it would be more 'life around the tower' stuff.

Peter looks Clint in the eyes. "It's okay. I understand. Jokes are a coping mechanism that I use too, and how would you have ever known I am still underage. Assuming I was old enough to at least be out of high school was a given. I don't blame you for that, and I don't hold a grudge." Peter assures. It's the truth, too. Sure, this doesn't mean Peter trusts the man, but at least he seems honest. Hawkeye seems incredibly prideful, and for him to swallow that pride to apologize...

Peter has the sudden urge to put on the mask, the same one he had around Tony. Well Shi-

His speculation is cut off by the chuckle of the Avenger. "God, you really are a good kid... It's such a shame you have it so hard... I guess the kindest people really are treated the worst. That seems to happen a lot in this business..." Another sigh as Clint crossed one leg over the other and leaned back into the couch. There were a couple minutes of comfortable silence as the two were left to their own thoughts.

"Do you have any clue how hard it was to stay serious with what you're wearing?" Barton suddenly asks.

Which is how Clint ends up webbed to the ceiling, something that is never to be spoken of amongst the residents of the tower.

——————————————————————

The next day, Peter wakes up significantly earlier than he had the previous day. That is the reason why, when he walks into the kitchen to find almost every Avenger, and then some, in the the same room, he nearly has a sensory overload induced heart attack.

"Steve, can you believe this guy?! It's practically blasphemy!" Tony exclaims, looking at Captain America and throwing his arms in the general direction of Clint, who is sitting next to Natasha, while she is doing a crossword.

The Super Soldier rolls his eyes at the billionaire.

"For the last time, Tony," Clint growls, "It is not considered cannibalism when I eat eggs." The Archer was glaring over a plate of scrambled eggs.

"You can't sleep in a god damn nest and still claim you aren't partial bird, Feathers." Tony challenges.

"It's not a nest, it's a hammock!"

"Oh please, I've heard you refer to it as a nest when you were talking to Natasha once, Merida. Are you two hiding something? Is Clint a bird mutant? When's the last time you've eaten bird seed Clint?! I bet you blame the bird feeder being empty on the squirrels!" Stark says snidely.

Clint facepalms, "I'm sick of your snark, Stark."

Tony crosses his arms over his chest and raises a skeptical brow, " ... How long have you been waiting to use that line?" Tony is suddenly placated.

"All week." Clint grins.

"Twelve letter word for the process of rising bread." Natasha cuts in.

"Fermentation." Steve flipsto the next page of his newspaper.

Most of the room gives him weird looks, as if they hadn't expected his to know the answer.

"What? It's cooking. About the only thing I could do before the serum." Steve defends. It seems this is explanation enough for his team, as they mutter their understanding.

Peter has never seen something so domestic in his life.

He wonders if anybody would notice if he just walks out very slowly. He is too late though, as Bruce, who is typing on a tablet, sees him. The man motions Peter over, towards the empty seat next to him. The obvious signal draws the attention of the other Avengers, who have now noticed the boy in the kitchen entryway.

"'Morning, Peter." Tony greets as Peter makes his way over to sit by Bruce.

"Good morning." Peter says back, and just like that, the conversation between tower residents goes on unhindered. The hero doesn't know what to do now. Do they expect him to join in the conversation or is he supposed to be quiet? He knows which of the two it would have been with Alexandra, but obviously this situation is vastly different. Peter still isn't clear on what his place is here... So far, he feels like a visitor. Like one of those foreign exchange students that move in with another family while learning in another country. But how is he supposed to feel?

The teen doesn't have enough exposure to this environment to come up with a rational answer to that question. For now, he has to continue observing.

Instead, he focuses on what Bruce is doing. The tablet he is working on catches the corner of Peter's eye, and he is immediately intrigued. The formula looks like the radioactive decay of the isotope Uranium-238...

Bruce notices Peter is looking and smiles at the teen softly. He shows Peter the screen, "If you're curious, I'm calculating the gamma secretion of Uranium over the course of several years. Though, my calculations seem to be a bit off... I can't seem to-"

"You've used the wrong half life for that isotope." Peter cuts in, "The one you've put in the original formula is 704 million years, which is the half life of Uranium-235. You need to use 4.46 billion for isotope 238." Peter explains a little over-enthusiastically.

Bruce stares at the 15-year old for a solid minute, only blinking once. Peter blushes. He just corrected Bruce Banner, one of the greatest scientists since Einstein. He cut the man off then started rambling his mistake. If Bruce didn't like Peter before, now he surely-

Bruce shakes out of his stupor, "Wow, I know you said you've read my work, but I didn't think you knew so much about elemental decay... you're a smart kid. I didn't think you would recognize this so easily. And you're right, I did use the wrong half life. Do you have this stuff memorized?" Bruce asks, impressed with Peter's apparent dedication to chemistry.

"Well," Peter blushes in embarrassment, "I wouldn't say I'm brilliant or anything... I've just had a lot of time on my hands, and science is the only subject I was ever interested in, apart from math. Learning about the Mesopotamian code of Hammurabi and its effects on society don't really do it in for me... I like consistency. Human behavior isn't an exact science like, well, science."

Bruce chuckles as he sips his cup of hot tea, "I understand that. Social Studies was never my strong suit either."

Peter nods.

The scientist takes a minute to think, and then, "You know, the lab gets pretty drab at times. Maybe, if you'd like, you could come down every so often. You could learn some things, and teach me some things as well. Would you mind?" The man offers.

Peter can't stop the excitement that bubbles in his chest. Him? Work with Doctor Banner? Peter must be dreaming, but he isn't. He is really at Avengers Tower, being offered the chance to work with a world famous scientist. Peter could scarcely believe it. That's why, without thinking, he answered, "I don't mind at all! Working with you sounds great, Doctor Banner! I- I mean if you don't think I'll get in the way, that is..."

Bruce smiles, "I'm sure you'll do fine."

Meanwhile, Peter wants to slap himself. Seriously? He wants to seclude himself with a biogenetic scientist? Experimentation was a large possibility- No! This is Bruce Banner he's talking about. He is timid, and most certainly understands Peter in the subject of being a genetic freak of nature. But still... Peter shouldn't be getting so close... or maybe he should? These people were going to help him. Unless they double cross him that is. But if you can't trust the Avengers, who can you trust? The Avengers work with the government, though...

Peter is in so much turmoil nowadays... he really wants to take his mind off it all, to just relax. Nothing has ever done that for him except science. Perhaps the risk was worth it... Maybe he would be alright.

Peter knows he won't be able to resist the temptation, no matter how potentially dangerous the situation is. The boy makes up his mind. He is going to take Bruce up on that offer.

As Peter looks around the kitchen full of conversing Avengers, he feels a little twinge in his chest.

Which is accompanied by the sudden urge to run, hide, and put on his mask.

Chapter Text

'N-No...'

Whimpering.

'I-It hurts!"

Crying.

'Please... Stop...'

Begging

They never stop.

Every night he relives it again, and again, and again.

Again.

Again.

It won't stop. It always goes through the same things. The same order.

First, Uncle Ben.

'N-No...'

Next, Alexandra.

'I-It hurts!'

And last, T̷̡͜͜h̸̶͘͝a͡҉̵́͘t̕͞ ͠M̀̀͢a̕͜͞n̵̢̨ ̀͏w̨͡h̸̨́͘͠ớ̵̕͢-͢

'Please... Sto-'

He's here.

Peter jolts awake with a gasp, his Spidey-Sense ringing like crazy. He knows something is off immediately. The dream, no, the nightmare, has never been cut off before. Without fail, it always ran through to the very end-

Someone's here!

His eyes shoot open and his heart skips a beat. A shadow looms over him, the large figure is standing at his bedside. Right beside him, inches away. In his space, too close, too close!

Peter screams.

"Woah, calm down, Peter! It's okay." The man tries to assure, but goes unheard. Peter is heaving and floundering to get away, but is tangled in sheets. The boy holds his arms out in protection, covering his face as he curls up. The man can see Peter's shaking like a leaf in the wind. He sighs. Obviously, he'd gone about this all wrong.

The man grips Peter's shoulder, and the younger flinches violently. The boy is whimpering pitifully and sobbing by know, and the man doesn't need super-senses to smell the fear that practically radiates off the child. Knowing Peter isn't quite in the now yet, he does what he can to console the boy. He sits on Peter's bedside and pulls the shaking boy to his side, combing fingers through the kid's hair comfortingly.

"It's okay, it's okay." He assures. "Nobody can get you here. You're safe. Don't be scared, Peter, it's me, Steve."

Slowly, Peter is brought to his senses. The man, Steve, isn't hurting him, but rather the opposite. Steve isn't that man, the man with no name but who still managed to burrow his way into Peter's mind and establish himself a permanent place. One that frequently used itself in his nightmares. No, Steve is good. Steve is safe. Right?

Then what is he doing in Peter's room?

"Ummm... Captain America?" Peter hesitantly asks in a way that conveys his desire to know why Steve was in his room in the first place.

"Hi." The soldier, who Peter notes is wearing pajama bottoms and a white tank top, smiles at him. "Sorry to wake you. JARVIS told me you seemed in distress. I came in to just check on you, but as soon as I got near your bed you jolted awake." Steve explains.

"JARVIS woke you up because of me? I am so sorry, I'll ask him not to get anyone when..." Peter worries.

"Don't be sorry. And JARVIS can continue to alert me when you're having trouble sleeping, okay? I'll come. That's what we do in the Avengers. We stick together like family." Steve pulls away from Peter, who is now sitting beside the Captain.

"No, I really don't want to make you wake up in the middle of the night now that I'm here. I don't want to mess with your schedule or anything." Peter shifts uncomfortably.

And to his surprise, the blonde man begins to chuckle. "Peter, you'll hardly be changing my schedule. I do this nearly every other night, believe me. You're not the only one with nightmares here."

"Wait... you mean...?" Peter is shocked, but the sad smile Steve sends him is confirmation enough.

"I've done this for everyone in the Avengers, and then some. You're not weak or childish for having nightmares, Peter, and it's nothing to be ashamed of. They show you're a survivor. Everyone here will understand that." Steve reassures.

Peter fiddles with his hands, "You all... really trust each other, huh?" He meets Steve's eyes.

"I guess we do." Rogers smiles. "It's only natural that we got to know each other. Living, fighting, and spending time with the same people does that. That's how it was in the army, that's how it is anywhere."

Peter twitches. That's how it is anywhere? Does that mean if Peter continues to live in the tower he will trust the Avengers? Peter doesn't know if he wants that. If he is bound to trust them like Steve says, doesn't that make this place all the more a trap? That could be their plan, to just wait him out. Wait until his guard is lowered, then strike.

No, he's twisting Steve's words. That isn't it. They wouldn't just revel their plan like this, anyway.

"Of course, it wasn't always like that." Steve comments.

"What do you mean?"

"Well... when we first met, right before the alien invasion, we were far from on friendly terms. In fact, we fought more than we worked together, especially at first when Tony and I met Thor and Bruce. We argued and made some low blows. I'd say the first time we'd actually agreed on something was after the invasion started." Steve rubs his neck in thought, appearing almost guilty.

"We won the battle, but that didn't mean we really trusted each other. It was more of a... mutual acceptance of each other's power. No, we weren't friends yet."

"But that invasion was only about a year ago. If you weren't even friends then, how are you a family now?" Peter questions.

Steve snorts in laughter, "You know, sometimes I ask myself the same question. It kinda just happened. Tony invited the Avengers to stay in his tower after the incident, mostly because half of us didn't actually have our own places, and also because it would make us much more efficiently organized. Over the months we continued to learn about each other. The acceptance grew to a trust, and then a bond. We've had our bumps in the road... but recovery from those bumps made things better than before."

"So... Tony didn't trust you all, but he wanted you to live with him?" Peter couldn't figure the billionaire out. Why would Tony want to be in close quarters with people he didn't trust? Especially since he would be at his most vulnerable, without the Ironman suit, around them. Not to mention Tony was likely to be the weakest Avenger when left without his gear...

"That's the funny thing about Tony. While he usually acts arrogant and rude around people, he's actually very generous, in his own way. Tony doesn't hide how he thinks of someone. If he doesn't like you, you'll know it, and at first he did tend to avoid everyone. It was like he'd expected us to stab him in the back as soon as it was turned. We got passed that, and now, Tony puts up with just about anything we throw at him. Even Clint's pranks, and even after Bucky."

Peter wonders what that means Tony thinks of him. Steve said the man makes it obvious what he thinks of you. But he also made it clear that Tony has trust issues. The genius philanthropist hasn't known Peter enough to trust him, but still acts friendly around him. Is that what this is, though? Is it just an act? Peter diverts his train of thought to something else in Steve's explanation.

"Bucky?" Peter had heard the name from Tony as well, and is pretty sure it is to be associated with that man with the metal arm that he had seen earlier on.

"Right..." And suddenly Peter's managed to make Steve be the more uncomfortable looking one, "Bucky is an old friend of mine. He was being controlled by Hydra and was tasked to kill the Avengers. Obviously, he didn't succeed. We managed to get through to him, jog his memory just a bit. Now we're protecting him from Hydra from here. He's still pretty distant and confused. Occasionally he'll remember something, an event we usually refer to as a flashback of the times before Hydra. If you ever see it happen, just let it play through. He'll go... vegetative. Just try not to startle him and you'll be fine. Come and get me if you're able. He really doesn't mean any harm through anything he does, so don't take any offense if he ignores you."

"Thanks." Peter says, grateful for the heads up.

Steve gives him a warm smile, "Sure thing, bud." He stands up, "Now, you should try to sleep. It's only 1:30 AM, after all. Good night."

Peter nods his agreement, and Steve leaves shortly after. The room basks in dark solitude once again.

What just happened? Peter's brain is a little fogged, blurring the whole experience. Captain America really came into his room (when had it become his room?) to wake him from a nightmare. It's crazy. It's surreal. It's...

What family does?

Apparently Steve has done it for all the Avengers. Which Peter is having a hard time imagining. The teen also doesn't know how he feels about the man coming into his room. Is he grateful? Upset? Scared? Something else? Peter knows he was uncomfortable when Steve had touched him. It had really disturbed him.

The question was, what had disturbed Peter? Was it the contact itself, or the fact that he had been able to calm down even with the physical contact from Steve?

The teen doesn't know a lot of things about himself currently. One thing he does know, though, is he wants his mask...

Oh boy... He could really use Spider-Man right about now...

~~~~~RTB~~~~~RTB~~~~~RTB~~~~~

The next morning, Peter wakes up.

He wakes up. Normally, such a thing has no significance. The teen wakes up every day. This time is different though, because if he woke up, that meant he had fallen asleep... Again. Still, what's so special about that?

Peter is baffled beyond belief. He'd never, not once, gone back to sleep after a nightmare. He always either got up or stared at the ceiling until sunrise. That's what he'd been expecting to do last night as well. He clearly remembers staring into the dark void of his room and then... nothing. He woke up. Of course, when Peter had nightmares he was always able to sleep later on in the day. He just couldn't right away, like he had last night. The only difference between his sleeping habits after nightmares then and now is...

What had Steve done to him? He caused some kind of reaction in the teen. The soldier has somehow changed him...

Peter will have to test if this was a fluke or what later on. Until then, he has a new mystery to solve: why is it so quiet? Usually Peter can hear the sound of the Avengers talking. Not necessarily all of them, but at least one or two. His hypersensitive ears aren't picking up anything right now.

The teen dressed (the woman, Pepper, had apparently dropped off a couple of bags while he wasn't in his room) and goes out into the hallway. He still hears nothing on his way to the kitchen, and as expected, nobody's in there either. Peter doesn't know what to think. Where did everyone go.

It isn't until Peter enters the living room that there is any sign of life. There's a person on the couch. The boy remembers what Steve had called him last night: Bucky. Hadn't Tony said something about him too? He can't remember, but he does know that this man apparently didn't play well in the sandbox when the Averages first faced him. Even now this "Bucky" apparently doesn't get on with most of the tower's occupants.

Peter prepared to walk back out. The man hadn't turned, so he guessed Bucky didn't notice him. Peter hasn't seen this guy since he first woke up in this tower, and is pretty sure the brooding man didn't want to see him. At the very least, he hasn't made any effort to meet Peter. That was just fine for Peter's tastes. The teen doesn't want to make nice with the whole of the tower anyway. Less to get attached too...

Besides, the soldier is scary. Even Steve seemed to speak of him like he's dangerous. It's better if he leaves now.

But fate has other plans.

"The Avengers have been called out on business. They'll be back by tomorrow." Peter looks back at Bucky. The reclusive man didn't turn to look at Peter when he spoke. He didn't need to. The man continues to stare at the TV, which, Peter notes, isn't even turned on. Peter can see his reflection on the black screen. Is that how Bucky knew he was there?

"Tony mentioned that might happen. Is Bruce here?" Peter recalls how Tony had told him he was more likely to get a response from Bruce if he asked where the Avengers had gone to. So much for that.

"No. They needed him on standby." Bucky's voice is blunt, his face lacks expression and he still stares at the black screen as if it's the most captivating thing in the world. This seems to be the man's default. Speaking to Peter at all seems to have put them both off kilter. What does this man expect from him?

"O-Okay then. Um... do you need help turning that on?" Peter refers to the TV.

Bucky doesn't answer.

Ooookay then... Peter really wants to leave now. "Well, I'm gonna go now..."

Peter spins around and makes it three steps before Bucky once again interrupts his escape. "You remind me of someone, someone from... before."

This time when Peter turns to look at Bucky, the man is looking directly at the younger. His stare bores holes into the teen. Even so, the man also seems a bit... vacant. The eyes are empty, as if he isn't really there.

Steve warned him of this, right? Is this one of those flashbacks he was told about? Steve had said to just play along if Peter had ever gotten caught up in one. The war hero wasn't here to confirm or deny this was one of those times, so Peter figures he should probably just go with it and hope he doesn't do anything to set the man off.

The vigilante is under the distinct impression that he's disarming a bomb.

"Wh-who do I remind you of?" Peter stutters.

'Get it together, Parker!' He mentally berates.

"I don't know. He was small. He was bullied. He had too much confidence for a weak kid." The man seems to be thinking hard, meanwhile Peter feels mildly insulted.

"I think he's dead. I think I failed him. Rogers says he was able to go on without me, but Rogers lies. Like when he says I'm not the same as Winter Soldier."

"This person I remind you of... why did you protect him if you can't even remember him?"

Bucky is silent for awhile. "I think... because I felt like it was right..."

"What changed?"

Bucky is confused by Peter's question, so the teen elaborates, "If you failed him, something must have changed. If you care about someone, nothing you do is ever to fail them. All you can do is your best. Did you do your best?"

Bucky looks startled, "I- I did."

"Then you didn't fail him."

Bucky looks at his lap. "I couldn't protect him."

"He wasn't your friend if he expected you to." Peter feels kind of hypocritical, but it seems to be the right thing to say, as Bucky sighs and answers with a, "He didn't."

"I guess that means Steve hasn't lied to you." Peter comments.

"You talk like he did, too. I want to know what happened to him."

"Steve might be able to tell you. He'd be more likely to know."

"Yes. I don't want to make the same mistake twice."

"What do you mean? You want to protect him still when he's not alive?" Peter cocks his head.

"I wasn't talking about him."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter wakes up the next morning feeling more stressed than he has in awhile.

Some of the stress is thanks to Peter being unable to go out as Spider-Man. He can blame that on his crippling social anxiety which overanalyzed every response he could get to asking if he could go out. In the end, if Peter ever gathered the courage to ask it was immediately squished down to nothing by his raging nerves. Peter is going stir crazy. For the past couple years he hasn't gone more than two days without throwing a fist at somebody, even if a lot of that fist throwing was on the wrong side of the law... Anyway, now that he was practically trapped here doing nothing, he didn't know what to do with himself.

That's only part of the issue with his stress levels though. There is a much, much more pressing issue on his mind than being Spider-Man. It's the way he constantly felt the need to stay away from literally everyone in this tower. It's much worse than a few days ago, when it was only Tony. Now, its actually everyone. Of course, some more so than others. Now it's Ironman and Captain America he avoided most often. The two have already managed to see him at his worst. Everyone else he made less of a conscious effort to avoid.

Peter is lying to himself, though. There is one person he hides from more often than he does from even Tony. But Peter hides from this person for a very different reason than why he hides from the others.

Natasha Romanoff.

It's nothing personal, really! Well... it is something personal, but not personal between himself and the spy, no, not at all! It's personal in a way that only Peter can control, and thus he feels guilty for thinking so low of the Avenger, even if it isn't on purpose.

It's just... when Peter catches a glimpse of the woman's long, brightly colored hair flash in the corner of his eye... When Peter sees here lithe but strong feminine body... When Peter feels the dangerous vibe around her and that stare... that controlling, authoritative stare... on himself... it makes him want to shrink away until he's nothing. It makes him want to hide and pray she takes no notice of him, that she could just pass on by and never see him. It makes him want to submit. It's all too much for the unstable teen. He can't- he won't- go back to that bad place.

She's too much like Alexandra.

Maybe Peter's being ridiculous, but he can't help how he feels. He's pretty sure he's been scarred for life when it comes to females... and people in general. Peter knows he's gonna have a hard time with relationships later on. He doesn't have to worry about that for a minute yet. Until then...

Peter should probably pay attention to what's happening around him. The Avengers have gotten back, and it seems Steve and Tony are at each other's throats. Peter's sitting at the end of the island counter closest to the wall, and furthest out of view. The teen suspects that they are so busy yelling when they walk into the kitchen, they don't see him. Peter is fine with that. He'd rather not come to attention right now, anyway.

"I can't believe you'd disobey a direct order and put everyone in danger like that!" Steve fumes.

"Uh, excuse me? I saved an entire building of people! Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Save lives? Is following your every whim more important than that now?" Tony defends.

"That isn't the point! The point is you put the lives of your team at risk with your insubordination!"

"Fine, next time I'll let hundreds of civilians be blown to smithereens!"

"That wouldn't happened, and you know it. He had Hulk on standby. He would have caught that missile." Steve glares.

"Actually, Mr. Perfect, I didn't know that. And you didn't know if Hulk would have gotten there in time either. I was betting on no, and that's why I risked my life." Tony glares back challengingly.

"Actually, you risked all of our lives. We were depending on you and you broke formation! If you do it once, who's to say you won't again?! How can we depend on you in battle if we can't trust you to have our backs?"

"You can trust me. I just don't seem to understand what our top priority is, Capsicle. So which is it? Are we going to save people or are we gonna stick to formation? The latter is a bit ruthlessly democratic of you." Tony's voice is icy cold. Peter can see the other Avengers, some more uncomfortable than others, hanging back in the doorway. The boy gets the feeling he'll want to retreat, and fortunately for him, he won't have to walk past the arguing adults. Peter slips out of the room.

Peter doesn't believe in luck, but if he did, he would say he doesn't have any.

Natasha Romanoff walks into the room after he's already plopped on the couch. She sits in the armchair adjacent to him. None of the other Avengers come in.

"Did that surprise you?"

Peter suppresses his jump of surprise when Natasha spoke, "W-What do you mean?"

The redhead studies him. Calculating gaze looking him over. "From what I've heard so far we've been giving you the impression that we're one big happy family."

"You're not?" Peter isn't sure he wants to know the answer. Has everyone so far been lying to him?

"That's a complicated question with an even more complicated answer." Natasha leans back in the chair. She is feigning relaxation. Peter can see she isn't relaxed, though. The teen was pretty sure this woman never relaxed. She is always tense; ready.

"The Avengers are a family in this tower. Out of it, we're a team. The two relationships can't coexist without clashing. It's our job versus our personal lives, and we're in the awkward phase of trying to balance it all out. Progress comes in short, violent bursts like this sometimes. We're all trying to figure each other out, and we all have different ways of doing. Don't dwell on it for too long." Natasha continues.

Peter is startled. Was the assassin trying to... reassure him?

"You've been trying to figure us out. You want to know why you're here. What our motives are. What we expect of you. Is that right?" Natasha asks. Peter didn't know he's been projecting so much...

"Take this as you will, but you're here for no other reason than Tony's compassion. We don't have sinister motives. We don't expect you to follow a regime. We don't expect you to give us anything. We don't want you acting like a good little prisoner and we're not going to make you do unorthodox things. The Avengers don't expect submission, we expect respect."

Natasha pauses in here in her statement.

"And I'm not your aunt."

Peter jolts forward at that last one. "I don't think!-"

She cuts him off, "I see the way you watch me. You're scared. I can tell you're prepared to flee. At the same time, I can see you're willing to conform. Should I test which you'll do?" Natasha leans forward, and Peter shrinks back, "That isn't-"

"Silence."

The word is spoken so softly, Peter can barely hear it. Even so, it is immediately obeyed after a short intake of breath. The teen cowers.

"Conform. That's your natural reaction. How often did you do that for your aunt?" Peter can't pinpoint Natasha's expression, but the voice sounds... sorrowful? No... it's more... remorseful.

Peter doesn't answer, only looking away in a way most people would pin as guilt. Natasha recognizes the shame.

"I'm not your aunt. Don't try to conform. We're not going to try and surprise you here. Do what you think you would do. Not what you think we want you to do. Just... be you. That's the best you can do right now. For yourself and for the Avengers."

Peter is staring at his lap. He hears rather then sees the woman stand up. He senses her coming closer. He feels her hand run once through his hair.

He watches her go.

Huh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Peter is surprised to walk into a perfectly comfortable breakfast between all the Avengers. To be honest, he expected there to be a tense silence. Maybe even nobody showing up after yesterday's argument.

But no. The team had seemed to have resolved their conflict. Tony and Steve even sat next to each other at the island counter, both left to their own devices, but not in an awkward way. The whole atmosphere was almost... friendly.

Is this what Natasha had meant by short bursts? Is this how their "family" worked?

These people are so bizarre.

Speaking of the weird habits of the World's Mightiest Heroes...

Peter walks forward sitting in a chair next to Clint and getting the Archer's attention. "So, uh, what's up with the new center piece? I mean, I'm not much for art, so I can't judge, but isn't it a little... Tacky."

Before Clint could answer, Tony snorts, "Trust me, kid, that's not there for any kind of allure. Thor came by last night. That's his hammer." Tony throws his hand in the direction of the aesthetic monstrosity. It consists of a hammer resting on top of a jar of chocolate spread.

"Why is it on a jar of Nutella?" Peter doesn't understand the purpose of this.

Clint chuckles, albeit bitterly, "That's basically Thor's way as marking it as his own. He put it on the table to flaunt it in our faces. He likes to do crap like this to piss us off. Don't be fooled by his naive understanding of Earth an his innocent charm. He's really a sadistic monster under all the blond sunshine." The Archer is pouting.

Peter is confused. If they want the Nutella, why didn't they just take the hammer off? Maybe they didn't want to face Thor's wrath if they did? This explanation didn't make sense to the teen, but he wasn't going to ask why they didn't move the hammer. He has a feeling he didn't want to know.

Later that day when the still stir-crazy Peter is pacing the tower floor, he comes across the hammer with the Nutella once again. It hasn't been moved since he was here this morning. Nobody else is in the kitchen either. The curiosity in the young teen can't help but be drawn to the hammer. Is the thing booby trapped? Did it electrocute you if you touched it since its the weapon of the god of thunder? Maybe Thor has some kind of voodoo mental connection with it?

Peter doubts that last one is true, but still, there had to be some reason the Avengers didn't just move it.

The sensible, weary kid in Peter says he should turn around and never look back at the weapon in question again. It would be a bad idea to mess with what wasn't his. Especially if the owner was a big, strong, thunder god who he doesn't know.

But the scientist in Peter wants to test to see if his theories are true.

In the end, the curiosity got the better of him. He just hoped it wouldn't kill the proverbial cat this time around. The teen stepped closer and closer to the hammer. Peter tuned in on his Spidey-Sense, hoping that if there is anything he should be wary of, it will be picked up by his precognition. The sense is silent, almost strangely so. As a matter of fact, rather than repel the idea of touching the other worldly weapon, his sense seems to pull his towards it.

Never one to doubt his sense, Peter obeys. He tentatively reaches a hand out to the handle of the hammer. Still no warning signals. He quickly grasps onto the weapon, screwing his eyes shut tight, as if expecting some kind of retaliation from the war hammer. There is nothing. Peter swipes away his fears.

Okay, so the hammer isn't booby trapped... why else might the Avengers not move it? Maybe it was extremely heavy. Thor was a big guy, a god, after all. Maybe you needed godly strength to lift it. But Captain America was pretty strong as well... just how heavy could the hammer possibly be?

Peter braces himself on the table, getting ready to pull the weapon with all his strength. He silently counts down in his head, preparing for one, hearty tug. Peter tenses, and pulls with all his strength...

And nearly lets out a shriek when the hammer is lifted unexpectedly easily from it's perch on the jar. The teen flounders for a bit to get his balance, and once he has it back, he looks at the hammer in his hands in confusion. It isn't heavy at all, it fact, it is deceptively light. Almost light enough to just be a plastic toy. Peter is pretty sure this is no toy. The metal feels real, and even Tony says it's s the real thing.

This brings back Peter's original question: Why didn't the Avengers just move the hammer if they wanted the Nutella?

In the end, Peter just settles on the idea that the Avengers just respect Thor a lot. He couldn't think of anything other explanation.

The teen sets the hammer back on the Nutella jar exactly how he had found it. He decides against saying anything about this experience to the Avengers.

He just hopes JARVIS won't mention it...

~~~~~~(#Worthy!Peter) btw, I forgot JARVIS existed for awhile there...~~~~~

Peter meets Sam Wilson, Aka The Falcon, and Thor officially on the same day, at the same time. Needless to say it freaked him out a little. Sam is fine. Perfectly calm, cool, collected, and polite. Thor is... less than all of those things. The vibrant man had almost immediately drawn him into a hug, to which Peter responded by going as stiff as a board. Any chance of an non-awkward meeting had been immediately thrown out the window as Peter had drawn in on himself, strangely trying to hide from the big man while he is still in plain sight.

All the Avengers(Excluding Bucky, as per usual) were present at the time as well. Most of them cringe a little at the sight of Peter's reaction to the over exuberant Thor, and with a forced laugh, Tony pulls the hulking god away.

"Thor, pal, have you already forgotten that talk we had about personal space? Tell me you haven't."

"Apologies, friend Stark. I've yet to grow accustomed to the reserved ways of Midgardians." The smile Thor throws at Peter almost makes the teen guilty for not observing the Asgardians traditions rather than vice versa.

Falcon steps forward, "I'm Sam, and just introductions is enough of a meeting for me, no need for hand shakes or bone crushing hugs," Sam shoots a look at Thor. "So, you're Spider-Man? I can honestly say I didn't expect him to be so young. I mean, sure he's only been in the papers for a couple weeks, but still." Peter can tell the man is curious as to why Peter is in the tower. Sam was also obviously suspicious about the conspicuous retreat Peter had made. Thankfully for the teen, the man is polite enough not to pry. For now, that is. Peter is certain someone will fill him in on the new residents... circumstances.

"Yep, that's me. Web-Slinger, Wall-Crawler, various other nicknames from J. Jonah Jameson that are usually followed by the words 'is a menace!'" Peter jokes timidly.

Sam chuckles, "Right. That Jameson really likes to bash you. What'd you ever do to him?"

Peter shrugs.

The rest of the room's occupants move on from the introduction, diffusing into their own conversations. Peter is overly conscious of how Sam takes a step closer.

"How are you adjusting to life around here? I know it can be hard, being new and all." Sam smiles sympathetically.

"I'm doing good... you're the first to have asked. Do you have firsthand experience or something?" Peter shoots the man a glance.

Sam chuckles. "You know it, kid. When the Avengers first moved in, the whole lot of them had to figure out a routine and the boundaries. Sure, it was probably hectic, but at least they were all awkward together. When I came in and broke their regime I kinda just floundered for a couple weeks... it's hard to adjust when you the only one doing it..." The dark-skinned man rubbed at his neck.

Peter nods, glad that he wasn't the only one to have gone through this awkward integration.

The boy surveys the room, and seeing as all the Avengers are here, decides that it's high time he got out of here. Even though Bucky isn't present, as per usual(where does that guy go all day?), Peter still finds there to be too many people in the room. He'd rather not be so crowded.

"I- I'm gonna go to my room. Um... later." Peter sends Sam a short wave and heads towards the exit.

On his way passed Tony, Peter's peripheral vision catches the genius begin to lift his hand. Though it might have only been for a pat on the shoulder or a wave goodbye, Peter's overactive mind assumes the worst. Before the man can "strike," Peter has quickly and almost effortlessly sidestepped, putting a wide berth between himself and the man. Before Peter has the chance to be embarrassed, he's already retreated, leaving the Avengers to ponder his completely conspicuous move.