Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There is something very important about Parker luck to know. Something so detrimental to obtain the knowledge of, possibly the most important fact of it to know. It doesn’t skip any Parker. No matter who it is. No matter what. Especially if things start to look up. Too much of a good thing, which is when his family isn’t below the poverty line for once or barely scraping by, and something awful must happen. Peter learned this the hard way. He thought that his Parker karma was at ease after the death of his uncle and almost getting evicted.

He was so, so wrong. So humiliatingly wrong, so depressingly wrong, so maddeningly wrong, so furiously frustratingly fatally wrong.
You see Peter has been a sort of quiet kid. The one who sat in the back of the room silently daydreaming and rewriting the plot of Star Wars in his head countless times. The one who doodled and wrote out his feelings because he never really had friends to tell them to. The kind of kid who barely had to study to ace any class he had, which was what landed him in the prestigious high school known as Midtown. Most students bought their way in while he was in on a scholarship. It was a real dream come true for him.
At this point in his life he felt so accomplished without having to worry about the consequences that the universe would throw at him. A good thing of this magnitude would lead to another that would lead to the end of all good days. A good thing known as the visit to Oscorp. Which lead to the bite. Of course, we all know this part, and if you don’t just look it up or watch one of the origin movies. Spoiler for the next part if you haven’t left and watched it once yet.

After the bite he was excited. He could physically do so much more than before, he didn’t need his glasses, got super strong, even more flexible and agile. But he had to think rationally. As much as he would have loved to be the next big superhero, the next Hawkeye, the next Captain America, or even if he managed to reach such a dream, he could be the next Iron Man. At fourteen though? With rumors of the government going to attempt to keep a leash on mutants and hero’s? Maybe he can hold off for a bit, then change the future? Don’t bring in suspicion either, he couldn’t do it then, why should he do it now?

Hope for him during this time was running high. He seemed to forget the ever presence of his Parker luck. Because he decided to hold off. Hold back. Keep his hood on and head down on the streets. Ignoring the passing criminals of every degree. His karma filled up and he ignored possibly the worst one. While out getting a drink and snack at a corner store after getting in a dispute with his aunt and uncle, he ignored the thief that went in with a gun. He ignored him, his uncle Ben, who was out looking for Peter that night wasn’t. Then he got shot.

All Peter remembered of the scene were muddled visuals of blood and his dying uncle as tears poured out of his eyes. He remembered pushing down to hold in the blood maybe with too much strength. He remembered desperately yelling at anyone passing by to call emergency services. He remembered the rushing thoughts of his aunt who was still probably at home. He remembered Ben’s knowing smile and soft quiet words telling him, his why, why he did what he did, “With great power, comes great responsibility Peter.”

At that point Peter refused to ignore it anymore. He threw together an array of clothing items of two colors. Red and blue. Red for Iron Man and his bravery, smarts, and wits, and blue for Captain America for his strength and kindness. Along with a hand drawn spider on the front of the hoodie for himself. Spider-man.

Once he became his alter ego it meant so much. Of course, he had to keep it hidden from his new friend Ned, who is just as much of a nerd of everything as he is. Along with literally everyone else. He stopped crooks who stole, destroyed, or manipulated the situation for themselves. He talked to people of every caliber who stood on rooftops to jump, or if they just needed someone there. He would even help with directions, or getting stubborn little kitties out of trees for young girls who would thank him, even if her parents would freak out about a boy in old gym clothes being anywhere near her. His uncle would have been proud. He always liked to think Ben would encourage the lifestyle, help hide it from May, and maybe the two would have bonded over it.

Things felt like they were looking up. Grades were good, May was finally able to take a break from work, his job as Spider-man was starting to feel ever so slightly boring at the lack of crime but that meant that there wasn’t as many crimes now which was amazing, and now at home they had more money for food, and going out, and having fun. It unfortunately meant that the Parker luck had to catch up, and in the worst way possible.

He was back out in the alley, working, fighting a group of criminals who was trying to get away from the store they just stole from. They ended up grabbing someone while attempting to retreat, using the woman as a shield, holding up a gun to her temple. And there was Peter, who in the moment went from a super powered vigilante to a scared little fourteen-year-old as he realized that the woman was Aunt May, who was taking time off from work to shop and get Peter a surprise gift for doing so well in school all the time and actually having the money to do so.

It had all happened so fast; he couldn’t remember exactly what happened. Some kind of skirmish between him and the group, they shot Aunt May, ran away and Peter was left as a true orphan. Cradling his dying aunt in his arms, mask off to look her in the eyes one last time to tell her how much he loved her. Her own eyes were dull in return as she mumbled the same thing, how much she loved him. Unable to move her hands to wipe away the free-flowing tears from her nephew's eyes she gave him a weak smile. Her final words mixed in with hoarse breathing, and struggling acceptance of the situation that she was in.

“Peter, I am so proud of you.”

Those were her final words her final words were about him but which side? Spider-Man for saving people or for Peter trying his damn hardest at everything. He was sure that he would never know. Peter, trapped in the suit came to a realization that hurt more than he would ever be willing to admit. How much of it was his fault. Uncle Ben died because he wasn’t Spider-man, but Aunt May died because he was. Peter just didn’t know which was worse.

After sitting in the same, cold spot for a few minutes, holding the last member of his family he managed to stand. He managed to find a way to get to the nearest hospital, the police station was too far away. Handing her over to see if any miracle would manage to happen. It wouldn’t of course. Peter ended patrol early that night. Going to a lonely apartment, in a crowded building. He slept in her bed, well, sleeping would be too much of a stretch. He laid there, awake. The bolder that was his situation hit him, resting on his laying form. He cried for most of the night, until his eyes couldn’t take it, going dry and sore, as he passed out.

Then he was awoken to the sounds of banging on his front door, and shouting from the other side. Demands of opening the door. It was the police. They’ve been trying for a while now, but it seemed to have reached the point of taking too long. Their attempts of getting Peter were becoming frantic. He struggled to get his eyes open, let alone stand. Something was weighing him down. It was gripping him by his shoulders and pulling him down to stay put where he was standing. Peter felt as though he was drowning, but knew he had to get to the door. Dragging his feet along the floor he made it to the door then finally opening it.

What came next was normal. He was told that his Aunt was dead, well, she passed from a possible mugging the night previously. He has no other family. A social worker was here to speak to him. They were telling him things that he already knew. Reminding him of his failure. The tears returned so the police quickly pushed the social worker to the front as they grew uncomfortable in the presence of the broken-down teenager.

Drowning. He still felt as though he was drowning. The water surrounding him. He couldn’t breathe. He was choking. The words of the lady were gargling and distant and- an arm wrapped around him carefully. Soothing words that he could barely hear fell from her mouth, “Why don’t you pack up some of your belongings.” That’s right. He couldn’t stay in this apartment alone, not at his age.

As Peter walked around to get his bag and start collecting his clothing, some Lego sets, laptop, his suit, he walked around slowly. He didn’t want to leave. Peter couldn’t leave. His chest was hurting at the idea, his head in an ocean of uncertainty, suddenly while he drowned, he was floating, limbs starting to tingle and his breathing picked up in pace. No, he couldn’t let anyone see him like this. If they did, he was as good as not. He rested on his feet, staring at an abyss in front of him. Then moved once again.

He grabbed what he could, going back to the lady, Sabrina. Whatever she said to him he didn’t focus on. Everything melted together. Her, leaving, saying goodbye to a place he once knew, getting in a car, watching his world fly by, the street he stopped his first crime, Delmar’s shop, everything. It only seemed to slow down as the car drove by the alley Aunt May was killed in. As the world slowed down Peter felt every emotion. Sadness, despair, helplessness, but most of all anger. Anger at himself for not stopping them, anger at the criminals for shooting an innocent woman who did nothing wrong at all, anger at the universe for hating him and literally giving him the worst possible luck.

Eventually time moved forward and he made it to the place that they were going to. The orphanage. Wow, how amazing and unpredictable. Bitterness formed inside him but it only made him feel more guilty. May wouldn’t have wanted him to feel like this, neither would of Ben.

Sighing and feeling tired he got out of the car and moved to grab his things and go inside with Sabrina. Peter also felt something else, he couldn’t quite tell what it was, but he’s pretty sure it’s him feeling defeated, almost. That was his best guess anyway. Luckily, he wasn’t drowning as much. His nose and mouth were still underwater but he could hear what she was saying to him now.

“I know it’s hard to say that any orphanage is good but, this will be fine for the time being. You’re a smart kid and there’s a resurgence of adopting teenagers. I wouldn’t be surprised if you found your home within a month.” She obviously was pretty new at this, who would send an experienced social worker to someone like him? She was trying at least; he can give her that, “But I must apologize. I wish that your new peers would be as,” she paused, “Well, behaved as you. But it will definitely make you stand out to possible parents.” She gleamed at him, but he only felt, something. It wasn’t nothing. At this point nothingness was dead in the idea that everything was turned to nothing by something going on.

She continued to walk in and he proceeded to follow her quietly, “The other boys here are continuing their studies right now so you can meet them after you get settled in. Ms. Hyde will show you around in the meantime.” Sabrina turned to face him and smiled sadly, “I know, I wish I was better at this too, but I hope the best for you Peter.” Clearing her throat, she turned, “So sorry for rushing off but I really do have to go now. I will see you soon.” And just like that, someone else had left Peters life.

Turning around he jumped, well there’s Ms. Hyde, right behind him, “Oh sorry about that Peter, didn’t mean to startle you.” She was young and sweet, her smile soft as she stuck out her hand. He took it and shook, “Uh, it's no problem.” He mumbled out softly. She gave him a smile and hummed, letting his hand fall from hers, “Well no time like the present. As you know I’m Ms. Hyde. It’s so nice to meet you Peter. Please follow me.” She motioned him to follow, grabbing his, Uncle Ben’s, old suitcase. Something pricked him, irking him as he stared down at her hand on the handle.

Stop. She is just someone doing their best, someone who is helping him through a rough spot. Peters hands gripped each strap of his backpack as he followed, “We share rooms here. Our employer doesn’t think space is much of a needed characteristic of any building.” She let out a soft chuckle, as if trying to distract Peter from his situation, “You will be staying with Marcus. He’s uh, a real lovely kid.” Something in her voice makes him think otherwise.

Once inside the small room she laid down the suitcase on his bed and turned, another smile graced her features, “I’ll leave you to get settled in, and come over to get you for dinner. Is there anything else you need before I go?” Some good luck maybe? He asked himself but then just shook his head no. His voice seemingly has left him in this situation. Ms. Hyde nodded in return and said a soft goodbye as she walked off, closing the door behind her.

He stared at it and slowly turned his head down to the suitcase on the bed. His mind suddenly going into hyperdrive of everything that happened. Aunt May, Uncle Ben, being kicked out of his own home, going to an orphanage, what’s next? Some long probably heartbreaking and, an emotionally tolling story written and published that happens to just barely be starting? God, he hopes not. But it would be him.
All thanks to his Parker luck.

Chapter Text

To be quite honest in the time of him arriving and dinner coming along felt like it was both incredibly short, but painstakingly long, some kind of fucked up paradox really. He managed to lay back on the worn-down twin bed, his back to the wall as he stared to another one just across from him. There was this ringing in his ears, the silence refusing to remain. How could it? His family is dead. "All because of me."

At some point in his self-loathing, as he floated through the situation he put on some random playlist. Finding a song that stuck out to him. He replayed again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again until the sound of the door opening rang. Because he faded into the white noise of the Wallflower’s song, it sounded so loud in his ears. He couldn’t help but jump slightly as his head twisted to look over at the other young man who now stood in the doorway. That must be Marcus. The kid who Ms. Hyde didn’t seem entirely sure about; he could only wonder why.

“Oh shit, sorry. Ms. H must have left out that I have a new roommate.” He smiled at Peter, who doesn’t know it yet but looks as though he was run over by a train. His eyes now trained on the new person in the room, the previous ringing subsiding, and finally his voice returning as he sat up a little straighter, voice soft as he spoke, “Uh, it’s alright. I just got here an hour or so ago." he shrugged as he stared up at the giant that is Marcus.

The older kid was clearly over six foot, with dark skin, who looked fit but not the kind of person who feels to make their healthy habits known to the world, more like a casual thing. Peter can respect that. Marcus smiled at him in a way that made him feel like he didn’t have to be as tense as he was, raised his arms up as if to show off the place, “Well welcome to the club newbie,” the way he spoke was so comfortable, so used to it, so okay with it. How long has he been here? Marcus spoke up again, “My name is Marcus. Marcus Jones, but people around here call me MJ.” “Like Michael Jackson?” MJ offered an even bigger smile, “Yep.” He popped the ‘p’ and in that moment it was everything Peter needed.

MJ’s eyes scanned over his still packed bags on his bed, but didn’t mention them to Peter and to be honest, Peter was happy that he didn’t. Instead they met each other's eyes again, “Dinner time is coming up in like fifteen. Got here on chicken nugget day, not a bad day to start out on.” The casual but subtle excitement over chicken nuggets got Peter to break in a small smile for the first time in twenty-four hours. A small bit of light to break up the constant dark, so Peter quipped “Well processed food is pretty good, no matter how bite sized.” MJ let out a chuckle and nodded, “Processed is the way to go. Are you even eating chicken nuggets if they aren’t?” Peter shook his head, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Well I’ll be out there for the oh so righteous commute over some fake chicken.” MJ threw it, but Peter hit it right back over to him, “I hope they look like dinosaurs.” With another huff of air as a type of chuckle, MJ turned to leave, “See you soon then.” he offered Peter a silent wave as he passed through the doorframe to leave. It was like a portal though. Marcus seemed to take all the warmth and small joy Peter felt when he was around him. It took him a bit of time to get up, throw something in the drawers for later, and push his remaining belongings under the bed. Then finally breaking the barrier of the portal from earlier and stepping into an entirely different ecosystem.

Soft thuds and noises could be heard from other rooms, younger boys chasing each other around, some light yelling at them to calm down and take a seat for dinner. The mutterings and groans of other teenagers. Laughs as jokes were passed around. It all grew louder, warmer with each step he took to it. He wouldn’t really be able to describe the scene either. To be completely honest it wasn’t like the dystopian orphanages they show off in movies. Quietly he took his seat at the table as he watched the two young boys be wrangled up and poured back out onto the seat's, courtesy of Ms. Hyde. One boy chuckled while the other groaned and pouted at his sudden lack of chaotic moving.

Just in time to keep the tantrum at bay plates for each small boy were placed in front of them. Wow. Wow. Kids can eat fast. Did he eat that fast when he was seven? Who knows, he probably did. Suddenly Ms. Hyde was plopping down plates in front of everyone, including Peter, of course. But he stared at his plate. That’s right. Food is a thing he needs; how could he forget? Maybe it was just the constant thought of May running through his mind. Maybe it wouldn’t have been a sudden worry had he not also forget that he’s a super human, with a super human metabolism, and someone who needs to eat like half of their body weight. This many chicken nuggets and fries would unfortunately not be enough, easily. His stomach growled silently.

MJ noticed him staring down and hummed, “I know it’s not a lot, but you get used to it after a while.” He pointed out and Peters head practically shot up to look over at him, clearing his throat to speak, “Oh no, it’s not that. Just thinking is all, but thank you so much for it.” Marcus didn’t suppress his smile, “Hey don’t worry about it. It’s no hassle.” He told him across the table, taking a bite out of the nugget in hand dramatically. That warmth was once again there for Peter. It felt like he could smile, knowing that this was better than nothing. At least he wasn’t out on the streets or anything.

Peter finally picked up one of his fries, thinking while he took slow bites. He had to see if he could at least trick his body into feeling full. But he forced his mind away from that and onto something a bit more prying. Spider-Man. A version of him that he liked to think was incredibly important. Sure, he stopped muggers, most of the time, but he also did so much more as Spider-Man than what so many people realize.

He’ll never forget the night he came across a girl. She was standing on the edge of a building, looking out over the town, she couldn’t have been older than him. Her tears dried on her face as she prepared to jump, but was obviously so conflicted about the choice.

”Excuse me ma’am?” he spoke in a quiet voice as he looked to the girl he stood behind. She nearly jumped right off from him accidentally scaring her, “Whoa! Whoa! I’m sorry-” He was cut off, “Spider-Man? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be like, stopping a mugging or something?” She questions, nerves had filled her obviously as she watched him carefully. He cleared his throat, slowly moving forward, “Ah, just finished one. I was going to come up here and see if I could spot anything else that needed my attention and well, here I am.”

The girl huffed and gave him quite the look, “Well you shouldn’t focus on me. There’s more important things and I’ll be out of everyone's hair soon enough.” She moved to turn after alluding to her own demise, and he took this as an opportunity to get a few more steps closer, “Hey,” he spoke, “You are worth it. That’s why I’m here. I save lives it’s, you know, my job.” He smiled at her through his mask, hoping she would feel in the clear enough to fully turn back to him, but she didn’t, “Well I don’t want to be saved. Not today.”

There was a feeling in that moment, one clawing at him through his neck that slowly spread, “Well,” he stumbled over his words slightly, “Will you at least tell me what’s wrong?” Her answer was quick and sharp, “No.” His desperation was starting to make itself known to him. He was terrified in the moment and wasn’t quite sure what to do. Sure, he had friends that would harm themselves, but he never stood face to edge with anybody. In the moment he did the only thing he knew and that was to gently reach for her wrist, “Please-”

With a sharp smack he stumbled, and so did she. Her footing lost after using so much force. She fell back. Falling so quickly to the ground. He had to save her, that’s his job. Peter didn’t even know how fast he was in that next part. Shooting up straight as he reached over the edge and shot a web, sticking to her wrist, while she grabbed onto the web.

As he pulled her up, she was shaking, hyperventilating, and in general hysterics because she almost died. Some might say that she was going to anyway, but Peter knew that being suicidal and completing the deed are two different things. He held her and let her cry into the mixed clothes that was his suit.

By the end of that night he took her to the police who treated her after that. Those are the people who need him. Those are the people who need Spider-Man. He can’t give up his second life, but how was he going to get around it? Were there cameras around this place? Outside maybe? Would they find out that he is Spider-Man? There were so many questions and not nearly enough answers. Maybe he can ask Marcus? Ms. Hyde seemed so warily of him, so maybe he snuck out a time or two.

By the time he came from his inner monologuing he realized he was barely halfway done while the rest was pretty much finished and moving onto chores. As he huffed a few colorful words out in the air he practically inhaled the rest of his food and stood, going to rinse it off and put it up in the dishwasher where MJ stood. Peter was quiet and he looked around them really quick before clearing his throat which MJ raised a brow at, “Uh, hey?”

The other smiled down at him, “Hey. How was dinner?” Peter hummed, doing a so-so motion with his hand, “Decent but I’m not sure anything can beat the golden arches.” That earned a chuckle out of Marcus, “Yeah I can’t fault you there buddy.” He nodded as he helped put away dishes from the sink. Peter having no idea how to continue the conversation in a way he wanted just simply spewed out, “So what do you do for fun?”

Poor wording? Probably. Yet Marcus didn’t seem too phased by it as Peter would have thought, “Well in what sense? I do a lot of things for fun Peter.” He teased out at him. Peter had no idea how to respond without tacking on a series of um, well, and I mean before finally muttering out awkwardly, “Like do you guys go outside here?”

Nodding thoughtfully MJ let out a small hum of understanding, “I know what you mean now. No, we’re not allowed to without anyone else accompanying us.” He glanced around quickly before leaning in, “But this place doesn’t have any cameras and our window is the best to get in and out of without being noticed.” He flashed a large smile at Peter and Peter gave one right back. This meant that he could at least continue to be the hero that everyone needed. That fact gave him some relief, and even more knowing that he has easy access to the outside world.

As he finished up though worry clawed his way through him. Would this come back to hurt him again? Would his Parker luck find a way to seep through and ruin it all for him? Ruin it for the people that really and truly needed him? He could only hope for the best. Wait, his webbing. How was he supposed to make more? Just hope it would end up coming out of him? God no, that’s gross. He blinked and shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought. Finishing the dishes he quickly moved to head to his new room, on the way he sent Ms. Hyde a quick smile.

He successfully rushed off into his room. Pulling out his suitcase from under his bed and onto the bed. Pulling out his laptop which had just enough charge to start picking away through maps, routes, and everything else. The street, the block, the everything. He used to make his webbing at his school, maybe he was close enough. News flash, he was not. Not even by a long shot. Bits of dread started to make its way through, that familiar lightheadedness and quickness of his breath as he looked at the maps.

Nothing. There was no school with a decent enough science program to have what he needs, no businesses or research facilities to intern at. Nothing. Of course there was nothing. He is Peter Parker after all. That and nothing is ever easy. He huffed and shut his laptop, running a hand down his face.

“What’s got you all feisty Parker?” he looked up at MJ who now stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame. He let out a huff and shook his head before responding, “Just trying to look for something that isn’t around these parts.”

Marcus nodded, “I get it, been there too.” He stepped in and shut the door behind him, “Mind if I turn off the lights?” He shrugged meekly, “Go for it.” And then suddenly the room was dark, like really dark. It’s already night? He hadn’t noticed. Of course the light pollution still poured through in this city, but it doesn’t matter. He thought as he stared at the window. He can deal with it, and so can Marcus it seems. Who managed to change in the time Peter was staring at the window, which only came to light when asked, “You alright? You’ve been staring out of the window for a while now.”

He never really noticed how long it had been, to him it just felt like a few moments. He turned his head to watch Marcus climb in bed. MJ sat up on his bed and turned to look back at Peter and smiled, “I’m gonna be real, first night is always the hardest,” His voice seemed to trail and go soft, hidden empathy behind his words, “If you want, I can stay up with you. Keep your mind off of things.”

Peter just shook his head, “No it’s fine. Really. You need sleep just as much as the rest of us. Approximately eight hours according to scientists.” He quipped lightly. Marcus nodded, “That goes for you too.” Peter hummed and turned his head to the wall, “I’ll get some sleep no worries. I just don’t like strangers being awake and in the same room as me when I sleep.” “And if I said the same thing?”

“I’m the new kid.”

“Fair play.” They both chuckled softly, Marcus shifting to lay down before pausing, “You sure?” Peter nodded, “I am.”

Soon enough Marcus was asleep. Peter could tell because he could hear his breathing slow under the sounds of distant cars in the empty room. He looked around. It was a pretty basic room. Square, his bed to the left of the room when he faced the door, and Marcus’ to the right. A large window with a ledge having its own little indent in the wall. A desk with a small clutter of papers rested on Marcus’ side of the room. What seemed to be sketches, and letters or poems, or something in a similar format, was under tacks on the wall or other papers.

It reminded him of his old desk, but instead full of papers for school, rebuilt tech, papers of formulas for his webbing. Aunt May's sticky notes that she would put up to remind Peter of things, and how much she loved him, and that they were going somewhere, or to congratulate him, and he let her die.

He let out a shaky sigh and scratched at his forearm in a stressed and anxious manner as he stared at the ground in silence. What has he done? He’s the last one of his family left because he let her die. He let her die. He let her die. He let-

“Peter!”

He jumped as he was taken out from his thoughts, head snapping up to look at Marcus with wide eyes. His arm was scratched red, tears were flowing out of his eyes like an endless river while he struggled to catch his breath.

The other boy stood up and quickly walked over worriedly. Taking a seat next to Peter as he wrapped an arm around him gently, “You don’t have to talk about it. I’m here to help with your first day through it,”

“But-” “No, no but’s. I’ll be here for you when you need me, and now is obviously one of those times.” His voice grew soft at the next line,

“You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Chapter Text

Peter stood on top of the buildings ledge, toes just barely off the lip of the edge. He stood looking over New York. Over his home, even if it wasn’t the one he recognized more. Where he was now was closer to Hell’s Kitchen rather than his own neighborhood. It would be an adjustment of course. For him and the people of New York, at least he could focus on another area now. It was hard though, knowing that he would be so far away from the people he knew and cared about.

A sigh left him and he left his legs folded under him, sitting on the ledge now rather than standing on it. His elbows rested on his thighs, body slumped over with only his head raised to look out into the night sky. His heart in his throat, nose starting to tingle, eyes growing warm, he felt every step that got him to fully crying. Every little thing felt so big at that moment, and the lack of family sized elephant wasn’t helping.

It had been a few days now since it all happened and Peter was still processing it all. It didn’t feel real. It felt like he should be going back home after patrol and see her. He took in a deep breath but couldn’t, his mask weighing too heavy on him, too thick to breathe. He pulled off his mask to let his lungs fill with fresh air only to come out shuddering and shaking. The cold air nipped at his skin with each lash of wind that hit him. He pulled up his hood to help shield his face from it, but it didn’t help as much as he would have liked. The air was cold, but it wasn’t snowing. At least he can be grateful for that.

He felt like he could feel everything in the universe at that very moment, while simultaneously feeling nothing at all. The air was cold but did he really even feel it? He couldn’t tell. He felt lost. He is lost. Taking in a shaky he raised a hand to wipe away his own tears away. At least he didn’t feel emotionless or empty. At least he knew there was still something in him. If his natural reaction had anything to say about it.

But speaking of feeling the universe. He saw everything too. The lights of the city, his home, even if a newly emptied apartment lights were out. If he looked up he saw the stars. A few but he managed to see them where he sat. He saw the pedestrians and citizens walking around, doing what they could to survive in such a harsh world. He saw a woman take a huff of something in a joint, but honestly felt like he couldn’t move. Plus he was sure he only had enough webfluid to swing back to his new “home”.

He felt weightless with his feet dangling off the edge of the building, his body daring him to scoot closer and closer to feel completely weightless. Soaring. But he knew better than to take that bet. He wasn’t in a good state of mind and he had to recognize that. He did recognize that. Feeling weightless while also remaining grounded was why he also felt the rough stone where he sat, even though his sweaters were incredibly thick.

He wanted to feel more than what he already has, and that’s why he took off his sleeveless hoodie that was over his blue sweatshirt. Cold starting to penetrate through. It also wasn’t like anyone else was going to come up here, so he freed his wrists from his shooters. They are one of the big spots on your body that regulate body temperature so it only made sense. He was cold, but it was something else now. It was a distraction. So he didn’t have to look at reality for a bit longer. Finally he pulled off his gloves, now being left in his blue sweats and long red socks which he pushed down to scrunch up. Balling up his shooters in the cloth he pushed it over to rest under the rooftops lip.

Leaning his head back Peter let out a deep sigh that came from within. It was as if he was exhaling all the bad things in his life and he was just sort of left as an empty husk. He looked up to see stars that weren’t visible anymore. He let out a more saddened sigh, the weight of everything crushing him immensely. The ability to breathe was taken from right under his nose. All from something so small. From a lack of distraction. His next breath was shaky and unsteady; he had to clutch at his chest softly to release it out into the world.

That’s when he heard it. The distant sound of footsteps approaching, but unfortunately he was so engrossed in his current situation that he only barely noticed the sound when it was right next to the door. Some weird sense buzzed wildly for just a split second, the hairs of his arms raising. Then the door busted open. Revealing a large man pushing a delivery boy back into the door with a box and further across the roof, Peter had no time to focus on the details except that, he just took off his shooters. There he goes again. Another moment, another person gone because he couldn’t be the right version of himself in time.

The scrawny delivery boy was in tears as he screamed, “Please! Please, I am so sorry! I-I didn’t mean,” The larger man seemed to yell right back at him, calm but sarcastic all in one, “Didn’t mean what? Didn’t mean to stalk an innocent girl Sir Shit-Your-Pants? Didn’t mean for her to spend some babysitting money on hiring me to find you? What didn’t you mean?” The boy went into hysterics as he was practically pushed to stand close to the edge. Large man holding the box smiled, “But you can just say that you’ll stop and leave her alone? Right? I have a soft spot for kids and you can just barely be considered on that list.” The boy nodded, “Yes! Yeah, I’ll leave her alone and, and not look her up anymore.”

There was a pause. A long one at that and the man chuckled and smiled, “See? That’s all you needed to say!” “Yeah?” “Yeah!” The two started to chuckle in some awkward manner which grew into something that was basically hysterical laughter. Tension easing. That was until the box was dropped and the boy was picked up and held over the edge of the building, “Serious you little shit McGee,” The man's voice dropped three octaves as his tone became deadly, “I see you again you rat and next time I won’t be so considerate. So leave little Mehgan alone or daddy is coming to find you. You want that?” The boy stammered over a no as he pissed himself, tears streaming down his face, “Good.” Suddenly he was unceremoniously thrown down onto the roof. Scrambling to run away while heaving.

Holy shit.

Peter isn’t entirely sure he’s seen something as domestic and strange as that before, and that says something. At this point he was staring at the potential murderer with tears in his eyes as the potential murderer looked back, pizza box having been picked up and now in his hands. A silence settled over the two. Carefully the other seemed to step closer to him. Small and steady it seemed. Peter refused to move. Refused to show weakness.

”So sorry,” his voice was now much softer, careful almost, “I didn’t realize I was going to be scarring a child today.” His voice fell off before clearing it, “Well I got pizza for the occasion, want a slice? Wait, no, it’s okay if your parents re-enforced stranger danger into you as a kid. Understandable.” He continued as if he could hold an entire conversation by himself, which Peter wasn’t sure if he could doubt. Even still, the other kept his distance and was careful in case Peter was as fragile as glass, “So what’s a kid like you sitting on the edge of a roof tonight?

Oh. Oh, to this stranger Peter looks just about ready to jump. It doesn’t help that he has intense bags under his eyes that could rival the man who stayed up the longest in history, or a new mother. Peter cleared his throat, “Oh, uh,” his voice was just barely there, so not helping his case, “I just, really needed some fresh air,” his voice trailed off weakly as he looked down at the rooftop. Needing something else to focus on he sputtered out a small, “What toppings are on it?” Because yeah, stranger danger, but he can’t remember a time he was truly full after the bite.

The man nodded and came closer, as if the answer was correct, “Well before I say you should ask what my name is. Here, I’ll do it for you, ‘Heyya sir, what might be your name?’ Ah well, thank you for asking, my name is Wade Wilson.” Peter let out a tense chuckle, “Also It’s pineapple and olive.” Peter couldn’t help letting out a surprised, “It’s what?” Finally able to truly get a look at the guy with his large eyes, “Don’t knock it until you try it kid.”

Finally he managed to take a seat next to him, offering him with an open box which Peter politely declined for obvious reasons. Now Peter got a good look at him. The short hair, nice jawline, the muscles, the eyes, the golden girls shirt accompanied by a brown jacket. Peter sighed and bit the inside of his cheek, “I,” he paused, “I promise that this is not what it looks like. I really did just need some fresh air.” He explained. Wade nodded some, “I get that, but do your parents know where you are?” he asked. Even though this Wade character didn’t know it stabbed Peter in the heart because no. They were dead. So were his grandparents. So was his uncle. So was his aunt.

Peter grit his teeth and shook his head, “No, no. I’m actually in foster care so, no big one or two baddies to return to. Just the government.” Wade nodded, this time as if he understood that just a bit more, “Ah, sorry to bring that up then.” Silence fell onto the silence and slowly Peter let his eyes close as he gripped the edge of the roof, “Uhm, what were you, just…” Another pause before, “Oh! I got a job. Jeremey over there was stalking a girl named Mehgan. She tried to pay me to deal with him, but I just couldn’t.” He shrugged.

Peter opened his eyes to look at him confused and hopeful that it wouldn’t make Wade someone he had to throw to the police, “Pay you? As in,” Wade cut him off and shook his head, “No. No. I was a bodyguard and bouncer. She just managed to catch onto that and tracked me down for it.” This time Peter was the one to nod. Thankful that Wade wasn’t like that. Scratching his arm lightly his stomach decided to turn against him and growled loud and pitifully. Causing Wade to glance at him. That’s right. Sweet spots.

“Are you sure that you don’t want any pizza kid? Gooey, warm, and incredibly cheesy goodness for the public's consumption?” This time he answered with a, “Yeah. Yeah that would be nice. Thanks.” He carefully chose the slice with the least amount of toppings before taking a bite out of the greasiest thing that the world could possibly offer. Any time an olive or chunk of pineapple managed to get in his way he managed to flick it off and continue eating as the man took a seat next to him. Both just eating in silence, other than the white noise of the city.

As time went on and he finished his slice Wade didn’t seem to mind offering him another slice, and another, and another. Unbeknownst to Peter Wade barely ate on the pizza for whatever reason there was, but it was nice for him. His super metabolism had eaten through his dinner so the snack was good on the boy's stomach. By the time he had started to slow down was roughly the same time that Wade finally piped up, knowing it wouldn’t distract him, “So how are things going in your own world?” He asked, understandable though. He just found a random foster kid, sitting on the edge of a roof, who ate most of a pizza like it was nothing, and was crying. Peter really didn’t feel like he could blame the guy for it.

He cleared his throat and swallowed the piece in his mouth, “Well, I mean,” Peter was already trailing off before his sentence even began; Wade didn’t seem to mind though. Patience intact and being quiet for Peter to collect his thoughts. He had to admit though, he didn’t want to bombard Wade with his life story, or his dead family, or being displaced, so he just did what every other human on the planet did. He shrugged softly and turned to face what was in front of him, the other buildings along with the rest of the city to avoid looking at him, “Well I mean, it could be better but everything is fine.

That’s when Peter felt it again. That itch on his arm, the pain in his chest, the burn in his throat as pressure built up behind his eyes. He bit the inside of his cheek to distract him from it all, but his hand couldn’t help but travel up to scratch at the surface of his skin. Unable to even let out a deep and shaky sigh in worry that Wade would pick up on it. How old was this guy? He feels like he should feel like he is in more danger than he does. To be completely honest he’s pretty sure that this isn’t normal. To feel this safe around a stranger who could very well put up a decent fight, or completely obliterate him as Peter Parker.

But he was calm. Nodding at the response that Peter gave him, secretly knowing that his shit has officially hit the fan for this young kid, but also knowing that he isn’t the one who should bring it up. No, instead he looked ahead and away from Peter as well, “Yeah, I get that.” Wade couldn’t help but in this moment feel so out of place, out of his normal self in the situation. Sure he helped kids ready to jump, pulled them to hospitals to talk and find a place that would help, but hasn’t really ran across a kid looking ready to jump but wasn’t going to. A kid just simply going through it in the worst place possible.

”I hope you enjoyed the pizza kid. You can have it if you want.” Peter thought for a moment before shaking his head, “No, no it’s okay Sir. You bought it and I just sort of, you know, tagged along in its consumption.” Wade chuckled and set the box on the roof beside Peter, “I insist, and my God, please do not call me Sir. I would much rather be called Mr. Unicorn lover than Sir. Makes me feel old.” Peter couldn’t help but chuckle himself at the self given name. That was also the same time that he paused for a second to check the time, and well, it was late. Way past bedtime for any teenager, and that said something.

With a small grave voice he cleared his throat, “I should get going, it’s pretty late.” He mumbled and he moved to stand up. Jumping up so his feet stood on the lip of the roof then stepped back to land on his feet. This significantly freaked Wade out because the kid looked like he was going to fall the wrong way. But with a soft sigh he knew that the kid didn’t, with a quick glance Wade spoke up, “Don’t forget the pizza, I don’t really have the appetite for it right now.” With a beat of silence and Peter doing a back and forth with his thoughts he leaned over to pick up the box, “Uh thank you.” Wade offered him the friendliest smile he could, “No problem kid. Now go get some sleep, while I go find a hot date.”

With that Peter finally ran off, box in hand. With that Peter left a man who for once felt a need to help the poor kid out because he just so obviously needed it. He didn’t know how to feel about him either, all he knew was that he saw the slightest bit of his younger self in him, and man did he need help as a kid so he could only imagine what help Peter needed.

Peter though quickly made it out of Wade’s sight before he slowed down. Eating the pizza on the way back to the care center. As he got closer he tossed the box away in a dumpster. Walking he got a gage at how bad this side of town was. Not the best place for a foster care center, but this is New York what else was he really going to expect. Each building he passed there was either, yelling, a drug deal, or something else that might be illegal.

Soon he was back in his room. Back in his sleep clothes. Back in the unfamiliar bed. He couldn’t help but hate it, but he knew he had to just get used to it. Even if it hurts. Peaking back out the window he sighed, noticing as the sky slowly started to make its way into a lighter hue. With a deep sigh he closed his eyes in hope for a better day to come, while an older man speaks to his girlfriend about a boy he found, and how he hopes he stays safe.

Chapter Text

Peter is back at it helping MJ clean up in the kitchen. It’s been a few weeks since he had an accidental meet up with Wade, the strangely sincere guy who is quite possibly a mercenary, but Peter was willing to set that aside. For now. Who knows, maybe he will manage to meet up with him later on some day, but now is not the time to think about it.

No, what he should be thinking about is how he was an idiot and left his Spider-Man stuff on the roof, with a stranger, with a potential killer, who probably could put two and two together and then come after him. He was so focused on the time his teenage brain couldn’t comprehend that he had other things to do and take care of, even bite or not he was not a normal teenager at all.

He was incredibly lucky that Wade didn’t seem to notice the bundle, or that no one else took it. If Wade had seen it he probably would have cornered him by now, or someone would have turned in the infamous Spider-Man onesie. God, did he need an upgrade from that thing. It was all kinds of torn up from everything he’s done in it, and now he didn’t have a reliable place to sew it up anymore, quite honestly he didn’t feel like running around in only half a mask if it took anymore serious damage.

Suddenly a voice to his left piped up, “You okay there Peter?” Peter blinked quickly and turned over, eyes just so slightly widened at the guy suddenly striking up a conversation. He shook his head and offered a smile, “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking about something.” MJ seemed to tilt his head to the side just so slightly, “And what might you be thinking about?” Peter shrugged, “Oh just something. I know, you’re desperate to know but you’ll have to deal.” He teased him.

To say Peter has been doing better is kind of an overstatement, but an understandable assessment. To the others he seemed to be doing just fine, a little quiet but no one can really blame him. No one knew him before it all. He seems to be fine, and during the day he was able to distract himself well enough with all the things they gave them to do. Ranging from chores to schoolwork, but then he tried sleeping. Suddenly he wasn’t so fine. He was left alone in the dark, a quiet one at that too. The outside world still made white noise for him to drown in, but it’s never as loud as it was before with May.

He tries to lay down. Tries to get more sleep than normal. Tries to feel okay in those moments, but his thoughts always tend to drift back to the three largest days of his life. Being dropped off by his parents at Uncle Bens and Aunt May's house, not knowing quite why he was, but accepting it. Excited to get to spend a weekend with them, which suddenly turned to a decade. Even less with Ben.

He was four when he was dropped off at their house. At thirteen he went to OsCorp on an eighth grade field trip only to get bit. Sure he messed around with his new powers, but he never really used them for people. To save them. He was always too scared to. Then after he turned fourteen, freshman year of high school in October was when Ben was taken from him. He cried. He was angry, and suffering. Then only a few months later May was taken. Some luck he has.

These events always liked to make themselves known to him. All the time, especially when he tried to sleep. So he snuck out as Spider-Man. No matter how exhausted he was. Being tired to him was always better than having his mind race through it all. Then again sometimes even that didn’t work. Sometimes it just forced itself with him through the night, and only seemed to make his punches a little harder. Those nights he tends to do the smaller stuff. p>MJ looked around the kitchen quickly before leaning down to Peters height just a little, “Well if you want, because it’s a Saturday, and you’ve been here long enough, me and some of the other boys were thinking about heading out for a few hours tonight. We leave Jay here because he likes to tell Ms. Hyde everything, and also to kind of keep her distracted.” Peter couldn’t help but chuckled. Even in the short time he’s been here he’s noticed how much time Jay spends with Ms. Hyde and how much information is relayed to her from him.

With a bite to his lip, and a quick glance to the dishes in his hands he looked back up to him with a soft smile, “Yeah, yeah that sounds nice.” He let out a hum right after while he finished up, “So tell me, what kept the invitation from me all these weeks then?” Peter questioned almost playfully with the other boy. MJ nodded as if in thought, a smile coming across his features, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling before coming down to look at him again. Shrugging, “Well, you were new. Not everyone gets the invite on their first weekend. Even I didn’t.”

Peter couldn’t help but let out a sharp laugh, leaning his back into the counter he raised a brow, “Even you? Oh my word, no one must have hope then if even you didn’t get the invite first go.” Peter would have to admit. He felt comfortable. This place wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be, maybe because of his low expectations that were met so quickly is why he was comfortable. Or maybe it was MJ who helped him through the rough transition. Maybe it was just how he felt. Who knows.

MJ lightly hit Peter’s arm in retaliation as he let out a chuckle, “Well I certainly didn’t have to wait as long as you.” With that Peter let out an offended gasp, a false expression of outrage being cracked by his inability to hold in a laugh, “How dare you!” He exclaimed. Soon the two were in a fit of chuckles and laughs, holding onto the counter and MJ’s arm Peter let out a loud laugh. Taking a moment before realization hit he paused, straightening up and yanking his hand back as he cleared his throat, “Uh, sorry about that.”

MJ only seemed to smile and shrugged once again, “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” Peter nodded and moved to walk off and head to his bedroom to do some research for himself. Letting time pass until MJ came in.

When he did he was all smiles, comically looking over his shoulder to make sure everything was going over well in the other room before closing the door, “Alright Pete, open the window. Let’s go.” A sound came out of Peter which was a good sign that he had no idea how to react to that moment, “The window? Are you serious? You can’t be serious.” He stated simply, but MJ just seemed to shrug and smirk at his statement, “Sounds like someone is chickening out. Even I didn’t do that my first time-” He was cut off by Peter, “No you know what I meant, it’s just,” a pause rested between them, “Doesn’t that really feel like breaking the rules?”

The other seemed to pause at the statement, looking down and to the other wall with a bit lip before sighing, “Listen, it’s just, just because it feels like we are, and we are a little bit, it’s for us. It’s not bad at all, just for the good of us. This is to feel good, you feel me?” He attempted to justify the rule breaking, struggling some as well, “Listen man, you’ve- we have all gone through some shit right? What’s going out and playing some basketball? It won’t hurt anybody and it’s all for us to be happy. That’s what it’s all about. The escape.”

The nod was slowly gained out of Peter the more he seemed to understand. Sighing as he ran a hand through his hair, “Yeah, yeah I get it. Let’s go.” He shot the other boy a soft smile only to be beamed one right back at full force.

Sure he’s climbed out of windows before, but these weren’t like those other times. He was still Peter Parker, not Spider-Man, and he was with someone. Someone he cared about and was ready to spend his night with, along with a few others they would meet up with at the court. The day was cool and breezy which Peter enjoyed. On the inside he felt warm and happy for it all, all the Parker luck and bad things seemed to be so far away as he and MJ walked down the sidewalk, even as eyes were glued to them on the way over. Soon enough he will be followed.

Peter still took no notice as he and MJ went head to head as the others watched, rowdy cheers and yelling flooded the area. Around people he knew he would of never let himself seem so good at something so physically demanding, but he could with them. Just this once, what was the harm in it? So getting the first hoop, and the next few after that he couldn’t help but let himself smirk at a slightly dumbfounded boy who quickly shook his head and replaced his expression with his normal, cool exterior, “I was going easy on you Parker.”

Peter let himself let out a small laugh, “You’re just saying that to make yourself look good.” “Are you saying you’re that good?” With that question it felt like it shouldn't hit or sink in as much as it did. Peter gulped and suddenly he was small again, he shouldn’t have been acting this way. It wasn’t like him, and he shouldn’t. What if they found out? What if they met someone from his past? What if someone found him?

A familiar itch found its way onto his forearm and he couldn’t help but scratch it, mumbling something along the lines of, “I have to go.” He was soon turned around and running off, faster than what anyone would have expected of any human. Panic seeped into his psyche and suddenly everything felt like some weird blur of time and constraints. His chest tightened and hurt immensely as his hands came up to rub at his eyes. At this moment he was just so fucked up as the attack ate him whole. It wasn’t something he could control.

Even with breaks from being Spider-Man the anxieties were still there and very present, and it felt like nothing could make them ever go away.

Soon he found himself, back against the brick wall in an alleyway with his eyes squeezed shut. Breathing pace picking up still. Tilting his head back to look up to the sky he let out deep breaths as he frowned. Ceasing the scratching of his arm to run his hands through his hair. His senses were strained and it almost hurt. Cars sounded both so loud but so far away as well, the cat stuck in a tree, the people in the building, everything just felt so muddled together except for one thing.

The footsteps.

Wait, the footsteps? Peter slowly managed to crank his head to the side to look the much older man in the eye as he spoke, “Hey there Kid.”