Saturday - April 9, 2016

Queens, NY - Middle Village

02:43 a.m.

Peter stared up at his handiwork, watching the ex-car thief dangle from the lamppost by his feet as he swayed back and forth, the string of profanities he most likely would have loved to spew being held back by the wad of webbing currently plastered over his mouth.

"Next time, maybe control that potty mouth of yours and you can avoid that little detail." The hero called as he leapt up onto the building. "What kind of example are you setting for future car thieves?"

With that, Spider-Man shot a web at the nearest building ledge and propelled himself up, sticking to the side as he swung himself over. With a few more webs and a couple of well-placed swings, the teen was on his way, flying through the air as the wind whipped around him.

The city flared with life beneath him despite the late hour. Of course, that was to be expected. New York City wasn't really known to sleep.

The bright lights glittering around him mixed with the constant cacophony of engines, horns and the roar of late-night club crowds created a mix of stimuli that continued to remind the teen of just how exhausted he was.

He could feel the heavy pull of sleep tugging at his muscles as he swung, the realization of just how much energy it took to swing through the sky hitting him hard, a fact that usually evaded him whenever he was spending the night beating up robbers and busting potential drug deals.

His day had been a long one, what with two back-to-back tests in Chemistry and English that he was pretty sure he at least passed, which was a feat of its own considering English was about as far from his strong suit as one could get, a couple of hours with Mr. Stark, where he'd continued to mess around with the designs and blueprints that the man had given him in regards to the arc reactor project he'd taken on, and finally, a long round of training with the Cons coupled with extra experiments to make up for the time he'd missed hanging around with his newfound mentor.

After such a day, Peter had been ready to call it one and collapse into his bed, rolling under the covers and shielding himself from the outside world as a five-year-old imagines their covers can do with monsters.

However, as he'd entered his room, his eyes couldn't have helped but drift to the window, his mind instantly roaming around the city, picking up every instance of trouble that could flare in his absence. Every car that'd get stolen, every purse that'd get snatched, every Ben who'd get hurt.

Safe to say, Peter had been stripping on his suit before the guilt could even manifest.

Still, after spending near three and a half hours swinging around the streets of New York, Peter could honestly say he was near his limit. As he swung onto a building that was only a few paces away from his house, Peter absentmindedly wondered whether or not Mr. Stark received updates on his suit and whenever it was active; whenever he was active.

Considering the man had given away a multi-billion dollar suit to a random fourteen-year-old with spider-powers and a knack for recklessness, Peter was willing to bet a lot on the answer being 'yes'.

The teen briefly entertained the idea of what Mr. Stark would think about him swinging around at such late hours of the night. Or...really, early hours of the morning considering what time it currently was. The man would most likely abash on the behavior, citing some fact that teenagers needed a certain number of hours to sleep.

As he prepared to fire off a web and swing off once more, Peter wondered what he would do if Mr. Stark told him to stop crime-fighting to such hours.

Would he listen?

If anyone else told him to, he knew he would blatantly ignore them. Peter Parker wouldn't hesitate in obeying to the letter. But Spider-Man...Spider-Man was his own person. He didn't have to take orders. He didn't have to obey.

So, then...why couldn't he answer his own question?

The teen shook his head. He was too tired to entertain such confusing notions. Instead, he lifted up his arm and prepared to fire off again.

"Jesus Christ, Pete. Could you fit any more primary colours onto that suit of yours? Swear it's like you swallowed the Fourth of July and spit up the American Flag."

Spider-Man whirled around so fast he saw the world blur around him as he instantly tried to pinpoint a body to match the words. He quickly got his answer.

"Must 'ave been one 'ell of a fight between you an' Captain America in the fabric section of Michael's." Danny chimed with a smirk and click of his tongue.

The bout of shock that has seized the young hero's body quickly melted into a lopsided tilt of the head as he approached with a wary look. "Danny? Is that you?"

"In the flesh."

Peter let out a small sigh of relief as he moved forward towards the older teen. "What the heck are you doing here, man?" He asked as he gave a quick scan of the streets below for any nearby signs of life before safely removing his mask, face flush from the recent crime-fighting. "I...I haven't seen you in, like, forever."

Danny gave a shrug of his shoulders. "You know I ain't one to stay in one place for too long, cuz. But spring's not too far along so I figured I might as well move more towards the city center again." He chimed, London-born accent seeping through with each word as he stretched his arms above his head and folded them underneath his neck.

Peter tilted his head and cocked a brow. "Yeah, well it's still pretty cold out here. You really shouldn't be strolling around without a jacket on."

"Ah, bugger off, mate. Can't feel a twitch. I ain't even shiverin'."

"That's...not a good thing."

"Well if you're expectin' me to be concerned 'bout that, you're gonna be sorely disappointed, bruv."

Peter chuckled under his breath and gave a small shake of his head. "Nice to see you haven't changed, Danny."

The teen threw him a scrunched face before flicking him off, Peter rolling his eyes at the gesture.

Peter hadn't been lying when he'd said it'd been a while since the two teens had seen each other. After all, it's been nearly a year since Peter had last caught a glimpse of the homeless boy currently standing before him. Still, despite the gap, Danny still looked about the same as the last time Peter had seen him.

The sixteen-year-old was still tall and lanky, taller than Peter by a good margin, with long black hair that stretched down to the base of his neck and piercing blue eyes that could halt you in their tracks with their captivating burn. However, despite the boy's drifter status, he disguised such a fact fairly well, his clothes not giving away outright that he roamed the streets. With a minimal number of holes in the plain red t-shirt and dark black jeans he wore, Danny could just as easily pass for a normal teenage boy that neglects to listen to his parents when they tell him to do the laundry

"Welp, doesn't much look like you've changed either, mate." The older teen called as he hopped up onto the edge of the rooftop, balancing on the ledge as he glanced over towards his long-time childhood friend. "Still goin' 'bout with the ol' rooty-tooty-web-an'-shooty gig, huh?" He maneuvered his fingers to mimic Peter's whenever he fired a web.

Peter couldn't help but scoff at the wording before placing his hands on his hips. "Goin' on a little more than a year now." He nodded. "But you'd be surprised with just how much around here has changed since you were last here, D."

The older boy's eyes seemed to light up at that. "Well don't keep me beggin', you cheeky little skank. Spill."

 

---

 

The constant blaring of car horns and the deep thrumming of distant clubs grew less and less vibrant as the night weaned on, though they never ceased. The noise of the city never stopped, merely shifting in volume throughout the hours of the day and the lulls of the night.

Nevertheless, the ever-present noise served as a constant reminder that the city continued to flare with life as the time passed around the two boys, who continued to pace the rooftops of the nearby buildings.

"Hold up, cuz. You're tellin' me that you didn' bother to check your room for anybody before waltzin' inside on the bloody ceiling in full costume?!"

"What the heck did you expect me to do? I didn't know anybody was gonna be in there!"

Danny threw him a strange look before shaking his head and pressing the cigarette between his fingers against his lips. "Bloody hell, Pete. It's a wonder you've managed to keep as many secrets as you have."

Peter scrunched his nose in indignation. "Whatever. I've done pretty well so far, man. Barely anyone knows anything!"

The older boy cocked a brow in Pete's direction before he gestured to himself. Peter huffed and folded his arms as he sat down on the edge of the rooftop, legs hanging off the side. "Oh, don't give me that. You hardly count. The only reason you know anything is cause ten-year-old me didn't know how to keep secrets."

"I feel like the more pressin' concern should be that ten-year-ol' you didn' know not to talk to strangers they find on rooftops."

Peter threw him a look to which the teen shrugged his shoulders. "I'm just saying, mate. There are more concernin' issues in that statement."

The spider-teen huffed out a laugh under his breath before letting out a sigh and resting his hands on the sides of the rooftop ledge, taking a second to just relax and breathe. He hadn't taken the time to think about Daniel Willis in nearly a year, and despite the flame of guilt that burst at the idea of having forgotten one of his longest friends so quickly, Peter knew he couldn't really blame himself.

Danny didn't really run in the same circles as he did. It was sad, but Peter had to admit it was true. Just the fact that they'd ever even met in the first place was astounding. Despite the fact that it had been nearly four years ago, Peter could still distinctly remember the feel of the bricks against his fingertips as his little ten-year-old body had climbed up the side of the building right next to his room, desperate to get away from his father and the Cons for what little time he could.

The young boy had simply climbed up to the rooftop for some much-needed peace and quiet. He hadn't expected to find another boy sitting on the rooftop as well, one who was much more nonchalant in starting a conversation and before he'd known it, little Peter had been spilling his guts to a complete and total stranger about...everything. His powers, his dad, anything and everything he could.

It was the one chance he'd ever get and he couldn't waste it.

To his credit however, Danny had taken it fairly well, only responding with a slightly impressed look and a "wow".

Of course, that had been before Peter had become acquainted with the Rules, before he'd learned to keep his mouth shut. He supposed his father was lucky he'd only spilled to one random homeless kid who didn't really have the capabilities to do anything. Especially considering Peter had made him swear a million times up and down never to tell anyone.

However, after their initial meeting, Danny had stuck around Peter's neighborhood. The teen had simply shrugged it off by claiming "rich people throw out the best shit" but Peter liked to think it was cause Danny had wanted someone to talk to as much as Peter had.

Danny had explained once upon a time about how his family had moved over from London shortly before his parents had died in a car accident. Peter didn't ask him about it and Danny never asked about his mom. It was almost like a mutual agreement they shared by not sharing.

However, with Danny's high-risk lifestyle, the gaps between their visits had grown longer and longer until Peter barely ever had contact with the boy. After all, it had nearly been a year since he'd last seen him. There were times when he'd wondered if Child Services had ever caught up to him or...he didn't like to think about the other options.

The other options always seemed to become the only options when he thought too hard about them.

Still, with all that had been going on in his life over the past few months, what with the Cons, his father, the Avengers, Tony Stark...it was nice to just...catch up with an old friend. Familiar. Safe.

Danny ran a hand through his matted hair before glancing over towards the younger teen. "So, how have things been on the home front lately?"

Peter grimaced slightly as he tried to come up with an answer for a question he didn't get to share honestly all that often. "Ehh...they've been...they've been something I guess. Same old, same old."

"Hmm..."

"I just..." Peter trailed off at that, letting out a disgruntled sigh as if the words were simply too hard to spit out. He scrunched his nose and shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I don't know, Danny." He murmured softly, hunching over to rest his elbows on his knees as his hands hung down in the air. "I'm starting to get worried. He's been sending out a lot more new recruits lately, hitting up all these tech firms."

The other teen nodded and leaned back slightly as if his suspicions had just been confirmed. "I had a feelin' that was him."

Peter turned and blinked in mild surprise at the other boy. Danny shrugged his shoulders and tossed a look towards the clouds above them. "Nah, I saw it on the headlines of a newspaper some bloke was readin' whilst I was down in the Bronx. What's he want with all that shit?"

Peter shook his head. "That's just the thing. I have no frikkin idea!" He said with an air of exasperation. "He's never sent out so many people to do jobs before and-" He paused, lowering his head slightly in thought as he bit the inside of his cheek.

Danny leaned forward slightly at that. "What?"

"It's just...if he was really relying on these jobs to come back as successes. If...if he really needed the materials that he's been sending out these thugs to get for him...then he'd send out an elite task force. He wouldn't send out the rookies, the...the new recruits. He'd sent a team he knew could get the job done."

The older teen narrowed his eyes slightly and leaned back, sucking in another bout of smoke. "So what ya' thinkin'?"

Peter glanced over at him before swallowing thickly. "It's like they're...test runs or something. Trials for the new recruits to either pass or fail. If...if they pass then they move up one more ring on the hierarchy he's created with almost every single thug on the criminal undernet. And...if they fail..."

Danny grimaced and blew out a puff. "Let me guess...it's one less thug the police have gots to be worryin' about, huh?"

"Something like that. I don't ask too many questions. But I do know there are plenty of new faces I see down in The Station all the time. Some I see more than once. Others...others aren't seen by anyone again."

"And you said he's never done this kind of stuff before, right?"

Peter let out a sigh and placed a hand to his forehead. "Usually he targets chemical plants. Labs. Things that have the ingredients and materials he needs to experiment and adapt his serum." Peter explained, blinking as Danny let out a groan and stretched his arms, pushing himself up to his feet.

"He's still workin' on that?" The teen asked as he popped his back and made to walk along the ledge again. Peter swung himself off of the ledge and stepped back onto the rooftop floor, making way for the other teen as he balanced along the edge once more.

"He's been working on that for years, D." Peter muttered. "He's not gonna stop till he figures out what made me so 'perfect' as he says." He growled.

"Aw, that's nice."

Peter cocked his head and threw the teen a strange look.

"What? That sorta counts as a compliment. At this point, you gotta take what you can get."

Peter ignored him and glared down at the ground. Danny watched him out of the corner of his eye and sighed, stopping his pace along the ledge as he turned to face the teen fully. "You still haven't told him where you actually got your powers from?"

The younger teen clenched his fists slightly as he stared at the cracks along the ground, tracing the ridges with his eyes as the words poured from his mouth, mind seemingly on overdrive as it spat out thoughts he'd been replaying over and over again for the past decade. "The longer I can keep him away from finding out the truth, the better. He can already be dangerous enough. Could you imagine what would happen if he finds out how to replicate the work that gave me my powers? Do you know how much damage he could do with an army of Spider-Mans and Captain Americas at his side?!"

"Michael's is gonna have to restock on red and blue fabrics, then."

Peter glared hard at the teen. "Danny!"

"Alright, alright..." The teen called, holding his hands up in peace as Peter let out a frustrated sigh and turned away.

"Come on, cuz! You gotta stop freakin'." The drifter called as he jumped down from the ledge and approached, flicking the cigarette bud down to the floor. "You've handled this shit all by yourself for - what? Seven...nine years? Point is...you're basically an expert in keepin' your dad in line from the shadows. Monitorin' him from the sidelines! Keepin' him reigned in." He explained, moving closer to press his hands into the sides of Peter's shoulders.

The teen reared back slightly at the touch, but Danny's grip was too tight for him to want to resist it. It was easier to just go with it. His eyes drifting along the lines of the teen's arms revealed that there were in fact no goosebumps along his skin. Peter filed it as odd but forgot about it before it could truly even register.

"You obviously know what you're doing or we would have been fucked a long time ago, mate. You've been doin' this all on your own forever now and you're pretty damn good at it, I'd say." He smirked and tossed his hands out to the sides to emphasize his point.

Peter soaked in the teen's words as the boy stepped back and turned to face the city skyline once more. He wasn't wrong, Peter had to give him that. It was true, as was the case with most things Danny stated in his long-winded rants.

Peter had been sabotaging his father from Day 1. It had started with simple things. Messing up a formula, changing a four to a three on a paper, adding a few drops of Chloride when it called for Acetamide. But as the years progressed and his father's work had grown to more dangerous levels, Peter's efforts had equally grown larger and larger up to Spider-Man.

Peter could say over and over again that Spider-Man had become who he was to help the little guy. To keep people safe on the streets that were too small for the Avengers, too overcrowded for the cops. He could say over and over again that Spider-Man had been created to help out the city. But he knew that wasn't entirely true.

Spider-Man hadn't been created to help out the city. He'd been created to save it.

Spider-Man was the epitome of Peter's fullest efforts to keep his father's work from hurting people, from letting it get too out of hand.

For the longest time, Peter had resigned himself to the fact that he would be alone in his endeavors. Lord knew he couldn't go to the police for a number of reasons and he hadn't really known any other people with the power or capabilities to help.

At least...not back then.

"Well..." He murmured, a slight smile gracing his lips. "...I'm not that alone anymore."

Danny turned around at that, eyeing Peter's face for a moment before his eyes narrowed slightly and he pursed his lips. "Right, right. Tony Stark. Forgot about him." He murmured, the surface tone of his voice light and casual. But the undertones...they had Peter turning to face him.

"What?" The younger teen called, sensing the mood shift slightly.

Danny paused for a moment, lips pulling into a thin line as he seemed to contemplate something. "How'd ya'll come by meetin' again?" He asked as he lowered his head and reached into his pocket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes.

Peter blinked for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "He needed my help dealing with the Rogue Avengers in Germany and he'd figured out I was Spider-Man so he asked for my help."

"'Asked' for it?"

"Alright, so he might have...blackmailed me into it - just a bit, though!"

Danny pressed his tongue against the side of his cheek as he kept his eyes glued on the pack as he tapped it against the side of his hand, a small roll falling out between his fingers. "Uh-huh, and just what is it that you do with him anyway?"

"I...I help him out in the lab with different projects and on Spider-Man and...wait, where is this going?" The teen asked as he shook his head and gave the teen a strange look.

Danny didn't answer his question, instead choosing to pose one of his own once more as he twirled the cigarette between his fingers. "And you said he just...gave you the suit? Didn't say anythin' else 'bout it?"

"No - Danny what are you getting at?"

The older teen stared at him for a moment before answering. "Just how sure are you of him, Pete?"

A sinking feeling began to pool in the bottom of his stomach, one that the boy tried and failed to quell. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, have you given some thought as to why Tony Stark suddenly took such an interest in you?"

"I told you. He needed my help and-"

"And nothing else, Peter." Danny cut him off as he tossed his hands up in exasperation, popping the bud into his mouth and pressing it into the corner with his tongue. "He needed you. Bottom line. He needed you that one time and now that that's over..." He trailed off, seemingly unsure as to how to continue for a moment before he reached into his pockets and pulled out a lighter. Peter flinched at the noise of the small device flicking open and watched as the flames licked at the top of the cigarette. Danny blew out a puff of smoke before glancing at Peter with a cocked brow. "Do you really know who he is?"

The feeling continued to worsen as Danny spoke, Peter shifting from one foot to the other as he began to grip the mask in his hands a little tighter. He tried not to let the discomfort show too much on his face but judging from the look Danny was throwing him, it wasn't really working.

He really needed to practice.

"Yeah, it's b-been like...like two months since-"

No, no. Do you know who he is...like really?"

"I don't-"

"Cause from what I'm hearing..." The older boy mused, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he took a small step forward. "...we aren't talkin' 'bout the same Tony Stark here. Cause the Tony Stark I know has shown up in the news more times than I can count with stories that were more or less not great publicity. The Tony Stark I know is kinda reckless and selfish. The Tony Stark I know drowns all his problems in booze and partying. The Tony Stark I and a lot of other people know, Pete...isn't a good guy." He blew a puff of smoke out from between his lips and tilted his head slightly.

Peter stared at the teen before him with wide eyes, watching as Danny pursed his lips together and shook his head. For a moment, Peter just stood there, letting the boy's words drift in and out of his mind. Words that had been repeated from the Cons after training sessions when they thought nobody was around to hear ( though secretly they hoped Peter would), from MJ and her condescending looks, from Falcon, and from May, though she tried her best to hide them.

Words that he had allowed to enter his mind more times than he'd want to admit. And just like all those other times, Peter shook his head and forcefully pushed them away, drowned them out with all of the things Mr. Stark had proved to him, all that he had done for him. They were wrong. They were all wrong. So he said the one thing he'd told them all.

"He isn't like that." He ground out, teeth clenching together slightly as his grip on the mask tightened just a little bit more.

Danny cocked a brow. "Isn't he?"

"No, he isn't!" Peter snapped, eyes flashing for just a second as his frustrations began to boil over. He was so tired of this. Of having to defend himself to the people around him. Of having to repeat over and over and over again the same defense, the same rebuttals that only he could truly understand cause only he'd spent time around Mr. Stark. But judging from the way Danny squared off against him, the other teen wasn't done voicing his thoughts.

"Then riddle me this, Peter." The boy scoffed. "He obviously knew about Spider-Man beforehand. He'd seen all the videos from what you say. That's probably where he found out about you. From all that crap on the internet from when you first started this, swingin' 'round saving people left and right in what could pass as a Home Ecs. project!" He sniped, Peter rolling his eyes and turning away.

"So if he knew all this, if he knew you were out there riskin' your life in doin' the right thing...then how come he only started to help you when he needed you for somthin'? How come the buddy-buddy friendship you got goin' on only bloomed when he wanted somethin' from you?"

Peter shook his head, shutting his eyes. "I-"

"Man, I see this all the time with the junkies and snitches 'round here. The cops get some fresh lead and they bring in whatever street rat they can get to spill somethin'! They don't care about them, they only contact them when they need somethin' from them."

"That's got nothing to do with this!"

"Come on, Peter! How can you not see it?!" Danny shot back, throwing his arms into the air in exasperation.

"Maybe cause I don't like to assume everyone around me is scum like you do?! Maybe cause I like to give people the benefit of the doubt unlike you!" Peter shot back, eyes locking on the teen in front of him. Danny seemed to pause at that, face morphing as his expression became unreadable. For a moment, Peter wondered if maybe he'd offended the boy, but when Danny cocked his head to the side and threw the boy a perplexed look, he assumed otherwise.

"Is that what you think you're doin'?"

Peter stared at him, unsure as to what he was pawing at. He furrowed his brow and glanced away as Danny shook his head and blew out a sigh from past his lips, running a hand across the back of his neck as he trudged over to the edge of the roof once more and sat down.

"Peter..." He called, said boy hesitating for a moment before reluctantly lifting his head. "I'm not tryin' to ruin this for you, cuz."

"Really? Cause that's not what I'm getting from where I'm standing." Peter grumbled, arms folding over his chest as he threw the older teen an unimpressed look.

"Believe me, I'm not. It's a good thing that you're startin' to...to..." He trailed off for a moment before lowering his head, glancing at the cigarette before placing it back in his mouth.

"It's just...you have a knack for seein' the good in people." He murmured softly. "For...for focusin' on that tiny little spark that you can somehow find in...in everyone and zeroin' in on it, as if it eliminates all the bad. As if you can somehow bring out that spark by concentratin' hard enough and putting' all your effort into it." He shook his head. "You've been doin' it ever since I met you. Hell, you've been doing it with your Dad since Day 1!"

The younger boy reared back at that, eyes narrowing in disbelief. "That's not true."

"Really?!" Danny snapped, anger suddenly morphing onto his face once more as he rose to his feet, ripped the cigarette out of his mouth and glared at the teen before him. "Then tell me right now that your dad is an evil scumbag. Tell me he's the lowest of the low and that you hate his guts." He took a threatening step forward, squaring his shoulders as Peter took a reflexive step backwards. "Tell me that you wish he was dead, Peter. Huh! Go on! Tell me! Tell me you want him to suffer the same way he's made you suffer. Tell me you want to see him hang, see him fry, see him endure the same pain he's inflicted on you day after day for years!" He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, nearly pressing his nose against Peter's. "Tell me you want him dead! Go on, Peter! SAY IT!"

"NO!" The boy snarled, shoving the teen back a few steps as he shuffled backwards and wrapped his arms defensively around himself. "NO! I don't...! I...he...n-no."

Danny breathed heavily from where he stood, watching the boy before him for a moment before giving the tiniest shake of his head. "You can't, can you?" He murmured softly, Peter glaring down at the floor as he did so. "Cause even after everythin' he's done to you...after every horrible thing he's subjected you to...every ounce of torture and pain...you still insist on seein' the good in him." He paused for a moment. "You still love him."

Peter traced the cracks with his eyes once more, intent on keeping his eyes away from his friend's face. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, wild and erratic despite the eerie calm he held himself in, his muscles coiled and ready to pounce at the unforeseen danger in the teen's words, the threat embedded in them. It was one thing to think such thoughts himself. It was a whole other to hear them from someone else.

"He's my dad." The same thing he'd been repeating for ten years.

Danny couldn't help but raise a brow. "Is he?"

Peter ground his teeth together and shook his head with an annoyed growl. "What does this have to do with anything?" He snapped, glaring back up at the older boy.

Said teen moved closer as he spoke. "You're blindin' yourself, Peter. You're tryin' so hard to focus on the good here, to..to ignore everythin' else and only concentrate on what you want to see in people like your dad, people like Stark." He reached forward and grabbed Peter's shoulders, the boy wincing at the touch.

"Not everyone deserves that, Peter. Not everyone deserves to have you reachin' for that spark. Cause...not everyone has one." He murmured, releasing the boy as he stepped back, Peter lifting his head to stare at him. "Whether you want to admit it or not, some people...some people have no good in them. Some people are just bad. You can't explain it. You can't predict it. You'll go crazy tryin' to figure out why. But...there is no why, Peter. There is no answer. No matter how hard you try..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fresh cigarette, extending it to the teen before him. "...you can't save everyone."

Peter stared down at the offering before tentatively grabbing it with his free hand. He could hear the words as they were being spoken, but something in him would just not allow them to sink in, would not allow them to enter. He stood there for a moment, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to find the words, only to blow a breath from his lips and glance down at the mask in his hand and then at the cigarette in the other.

The cigarette was small, only about the size of his pinkie, and it was greatly dwarfed by the mask in the other hand. And yet, despite the differences in size, the small roll seemed much heavier in his hand. He gently ran his fingertips against the paper edging, small sprinklings of black powder falling into his palm. The lenses of his mask glinted in his eyes ever so slightly, making him turn to take in the tight stitching and cleanly woven fabrics, like a comforting blanket enveloping his hand, nothing like the prickling feeling of the roll in the other palm.

He glanced between the two before slowly curling his hand into a fist, effectively crushing the cigarette into fine dust. "No...you don't know him, Danny. Mr. Stark is...he's different. He's funny and kind and smart and...he makes me feel like it's okay to be me. Like...like I don't have to be afraid anymore." He gave a small hint of a smile.

Danny didn't return in as he gave the boy a solemn look. "We should always be afraid, Peter. It's just safer that way."

The boy narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists together. "Well, maybe I don't want that anymore!" God he really didn't want to fight again.

Danny obviously felt the same as he threw up his hands and sighed. "Look, listen to me or don't. You're gonna do what you want. All I'm saying is...watch your back, Pete." He straightened up and looked the teen in the eyes. "And watch the company you keep."

Peter leaned back to gaze at the boy, reading his face for any signs of malice or anger. He found none.

The teen wasn't going to lie to himself. Daniel Willis wasn't what he would call a very reputable source. The teen had been back and forth on the streets for years, bouncing from foster house to foster house, avoiding Social Services, and getting hits where he could. 'Opportunist' simply wasn't enough to describe him. So with those standards, taking the word of a homeless teen with any sort of seriousness would seem very far-fetched to most people.

Peter knew they were friends. They'd been friends for years, but...but Peter knew Danny was far from a good guy. He stole, he lied, he cheated, and for the most part, Peter let him off for it.

He knew he couldn't really judge. Life was hard for a kid on the streets and he was sure Danny just did what he needed to survive, but...but Peter knew such experiences had to have had their effects. Led to a shift in perspectives, viewpoints.

He didn't trust Tony Stark cause he wasn't too far off from being him, a miniature version with far less money, at least.

Danny was first and foremost, a con artist. He knew the game, knew how to play, and he most definitely knew how to spot other con artists. It's why he could tell Peter was telling the truth about his father, who was a grade-A champion at the game. And it was most likely why he was so hesitant about Tony. He recognized all the makings of a con on him.

But...that didn't mean he was right.

That didn't mean Peter had to believe him.

Still, Peter couldn't help but take in the look of slight concern marring the boy's features. The younger teen knew such a look probably wasn't a common one on Danny's face. He knew firsthand just how difficult it was to express concern for others when your own life warrants all the concern you can get. But despite that, Danny still seemed worried. He was still concerned for him, despite his best efforts to mask the feeling with snark and disinterest. Almost like someone else he knew...

So with that, Peter couldn't help but give a small scoff as a hint of a smile crossed his face. "Does that include you?"

Danny's eyes drifted over the teen's face, obviously searching for traces of resentment. Finding none, the teen returned the smile as he shrugged his shoulders. "You should always watch out for me. Never know when I'm gonna find ya." He called with a wink as he flicked the remaining bud to the ground once more

Peter smiled and shook his head. "I'm glad your back, Danny." And he was, despite the conversation which still seemed to steam in the air over their heads.

"Yeah, well...looks like I'm just in time. Seems to me like you're gonna need all the people you can get on your side." He turned and began to walk over the edge of the roof once more, eyeing the catwalk that led down to the streets below. "I'll be around."

Peter watched as the teen bent down and wrapped his hands around the rusted metal of the steps, twisting himself around to position himself to walk down. However, as he began to lower himself down, Peter couldn't help the nagging feeling itching at the base of his neck, prickling and prickling until he couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer.

"He does love me."

Danny glanced up.

"My dad. He does."

. . . .

. . . .

"That's what you should be afraid of."

 

---

 

Saturday - April 9, 2016

2765 Springshore Dr - Brenner Residence

04:23 p.m.

"Jesus Christ, May. Do you even own a garbage can? Cause, they're like fifty cents at the Dollar Store. I can get you a nice pretty one with flowers on it and everything." Peter called as he glanced down at the box before him, turning a questioning gaze to the horde of shoes inside that seemed to fit in much better with the leftover tuna casserole and day-old spaghetti still in the kitchen garbage bag.

"Oh, it's not that bad, you big baby."

Peter leaned down and plucked out a shoe with more holes than the moldy Swiss cheese in May's fridge, throwing the woman an unimpressed look.

She shrugged as she picked up one of the large brown boxes. "What can I say? I'm sentimental."

"I'd go ahead and leave out the 'senti', May."

She pursed her lips and gave the teen a light kick as she walked past with the box, Peter grinning as he watched her drop it off near the front door where all the other boxes of a similar make stood.

For the past two hours, boxes were all Peter had been able to see as the pair cleaned out May's apartment after months and months of the teen hounding her to do so. After the sixth time tripping over her knitting kit that hadn't been opened since being bought at a garage sale two years ago, Peter had finally worn the woman down. So for the past few hours, the two had been making quick work going through the ol' "Keep or Toss" routine, Peter having had to explain that there had to at least be a few things in the Toss pile, much to May's reluctance.

"When did I even buy this?" May asked herself as she stared down at the cookbook in her hands. She shrugged her shoulders before tossing it into one of the Keep boxes.

"Seriously? Are you even trying?"

"You never know when you'll need to learn how to cook."

Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes as he wrapped a few candlesticks in bubble wrap. "So how's school going?" He asked as he placed the tightly wrapped sticks into the box before him. May dropped in some linen table liners before closing the box with a small smile. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Peter shrugged his shoulders, to which May laughed and shook her head. "It's a lot. Juggling that and the diner are a handful but...I'm managing. And you? Your big Decathlon tournament's next Saturday, right?"

The teen ducked his head away slightly as a faint blush rose to his cheeks. "Yeah. You...don't have to come to that thing if you don't want to, May. I...I know they can be kinda...boring."

"You kidding. I wouldn't miss it for the world." The woman beamed, Peter glancing up as he threw her a grateful smile. Even if his father never showed up to those things, May always had his back, always filled a chair or at least tried her hardest to.

The teen gave a slight grimace as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I kinda...might have...invited Mr. Stark too...if that's alright."

May looked surprised for a moment before her face changed into an expression Peter couldn't really read. It almost looked like a smirk but she turned her head away before he could really tell. "Really?" She asked, though the surprise in her voice somehow seemed...false.

"Yeah...it kinda just...slipped out."

"We'll have to save a seat for him then." The woman called, still not showing her face to him as she picked up another box and moved towards the front foyer again.

Peter glanced down at his shoes, the toe scuffling against the carpet rug. "I don't know. He's...he's probably not gonna show." (Of course he won't, you idiot.)

The woman paused for a moment to place the box down on the ground before blowing a breath past her lips and pushing a few strands of hair out of her face. "Well we'll just have to wait and see, huh?"

The teen threw her a weird look, but shrugged his shoulders and went to go collect another box. He glanced at the Toss pile, which had gotten suspiciously smaller than the last time he'd seen it, and shook his head. "How long's it been since you cleaned stuff out around here?"

The woman scrunched her face in thought. "I guess it's been a while."

Peter stared at the horde of boxes they'd filled in the past few hours and threw her a look. "You guess?"

She scoffed and turned away. "Aren't teenage boy's supposed to love hording stuff?" May called with a wave of her hand as she piled a few old books she'd long since given up on trying to read into one of the bigger boxes.

Peter shrugged his shoulders. "Aren't old ladies supposed to love tidiness?" He called with a cheeky grin, May narrowing her eyes as she tried to slap him in the shoulder with a grin, the teen ducking out of the way at the last minute. "Alright, you little punk. There's another pile of boxes in the corner. Move your little butt and bring those over. I think those are the last of the few we need to take to the storage pad."

The teen let out a small chuckle as he walked over and stooped down to pick up the box. However, as he took notice of what was inside, the teen quickly halted in his tracks and felt his mouth go dry, lips parting slightly as he felt his throat clamp shut. He could hear May shuffling around the room, but whatever she was saying quickly muted into cotton in his ears. His eyes remained glued to the contents of the box as he felt his legs lowering him down to the ground. Kneeling on the hard tile floor that desperately needed to be swept and mopped, Peter felt his hands shakily reach out into the box, fingers wrapping around the soft leather of Ben's favorite jacket.

His ears softly rang with the quiet voice of someone teaching him how to tie his shoes, someone vowing they'd be the first to teach him to drive, someone whispering kind words as he gently cleaned the scrape on his knee. Someone who wasn't there anymore; wasn't there because of him.

The room suddenly seemed too hot and too cold all at the same time as he felt chills rake his lithe body, muscles coiling slightly for a fight he could do nothing about, a fight that solely took part in his mind. A fight to keep himself together, a fight he'd been battling for two years...and one he was slowly losing.

He swallowed thickly, face contorting into an unreadable expression of restraint as his eyes remained glued to the fabric in his arms, hands seeming to vibrate with how violently they were shaking. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, the noise drowning out everything around him, even the sound of May's movements. It was fast and choking and loud. Too loud. He wanted to raise his hands to cover his ears but they wouldn't seem to obey. Instead they stayed locked onto the jacket.

"Hey, tough guy, what's the hold up over the-" May felt the words die in her throat as she caught sight of Peter sitting on his knees, dark brown jacket clutched tightly in his hands as he stared down at the worn leather.

The teen didn't hear her speak, just rubbed his fingers against the material seemingly lost in his own head. Peter barely even moved as May rested a hand on his shoulder, the kid wondering when she'd even approached. Despite the gnawing unease of having foreign hands on him, Peter couldn't really bring himself to pull away for fear that his focus might stray away from the jacket.

"I miss him too."

With her words, Peter felt himself suck in a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. It was shaky and wet and made the teen clear his throat slightly as he sniffed and ducked his head away. The dust around the room must have been more concentrated where he was, for he could feel his eyes growing red and wet.

He opened his mouth, but quickly shut it with the realization that if he spoke now, there was no telling what he'd really say and he couldn't afford that uncertainty. It was best to just wait it out till he regained some form of self control. May, however, didn't seem to pick up on his raging internal battle as she reached out for him again. "Peter, please. Just...just talk to me." She pleaded, the tones of desperation in her voice making the teen want to rip his own ribcage out.

Suddenly realizing he was in irreparable danger of imploding in on himself, the teen dropped the jacket and immediately shot up to his feet. "I should go bring some of those boxes outside. Makes it easier to transfer them to your car." He gasped out, forcing a quivering smile onto his face as he turned away and moved towards the door.

"Peter-!"

"I'll be right back." It was all he could say without wavering.

He was outside before he could even register it. The boxes that had somehow found themselves in his hands were quickly dropped to his feet as he rested the back of his head against the closed door and sucked in a shaky breath, eyes stinging. Peter glanced down at his hands, the skin suddenly feeling stretched and foreign. As if his skin didn't fit his body.

He turned towards the boxes and took a breath before hoisting them back into his arms. He pushed the jacket to the back of his mind along with anything and everything connected to it. Two years was too long of a streak to break and he wasn't about to start today. He wouldn't lose this fight. He couldn't.

So with that, the teen brought the boxes to the back of May's car and dropped them on the cracked concrete beside it. Resting his hand against the rusted metal exterior, the teen ran a hand through his hair and sighed as he glanced back over towards the front door of the house. He was glad the door was closed, shielding his eyes from whatever look of anguish May was most likely wearing on her face. (Can't bear to see what you're doing to her, huh?)

The guilt spread like a wildfire, but Peter didn't really have the energy to acknowledge the burning as he made his way back over towards the stairs. (Just push that to the back of your mind too, you coward)

Praying that perhaps May had moved off to another room, Peter stilled another deep breath and readjusted the smile on his face, hoping it was realistic enough to pass as he opened the door. "How long have you had that car outs-" He started, only to grunt in mild surprise as something was suddenly shoved against his chest.

The teen blinked and glanced down, hands instantly catching the stacks upon stacks of CDs now precariously balanced in his palms, eyes warily crawling up to meet May's. Peter couldn't help but shake his head in compete surprise as he caught sight of the smile on May's face as she stared at the CDs. "Music!" She cried with seemingly too much enthusiasm to be a hundred percent real.

"What...?" Peter asked hesitantly, afraid that if he cracked her facade in anyway, it would come tumbling down.

May gave a small shake of her head as she chuckled. "Sorry. I just mean...you said Mr. Stark wanted to know what kind of music you like to listen to. And I have basically every CD Ben ever collected just sitting in my closet taking up valuable shoe space-"

"Please no more shoes, May."

She gave him a mock pout. "Whatever. Anyway, I figured now was as good a time as any for them to start getting some use." She faltered slightly as she turned away and tilted her head. "That is, if you want them of course. I mean, you don't have to take them if you don't-"

"NO!" Peter shouted, reeling back slightly as he took note of just how loud he'd been. "I mean...I'd love to take these. I'll show them to Mr. Stark."

"Yeah?" The woman asked with a small nervous smile.

Peter blinked before returning one of his own, bumping the woman with his shoulder seeing as how his hands were full. "Yeah. Thanks, May. I...I really love these."

Her smile grew at that, the woman patting him on the head as she turned away once more, kneeling down over a couple more boxes. Peter turned to the couch next to him and dropped the load onto the cushions, taking note of just how many CDs there actually were. And considering CDs weren't even used all that much anymore, there were quite a few.

"You must have like...every CD ever made here."

"What can I say? Ben was pretty sentimental, too. And I think we can keep the 'senti' in that." She called with a smirk.

Peter couldn't help but give a small chuckle at that as he rummaged through the pile, glancing at covers and song lists. "Yeah. You do have enough 'mental' for a small group." He laughed, only to pause as he noticed the woman approaching once more. "If it's more CDs, then I think you can keep them. I have plenty here." He said as he turned around, expecting to find more CDs in the woman's arms.

He faltered slightly as he took in the sight of the jacket once more, now resting gently in the woman's arms instead of his own. He swallowed and felt his chest tighten ever so slightly, but was able to keep a level stare this time. Apparently the same went for May as she stared him in the eyes, a small smile on her face. "This was his favorite jacket, you know."

He knew. "Yeah...I know."

The woman stared down at it for a moment, seemingly lost in thought for a second as she stroked her hand over the worn leather. Peter blinked in silence as he wondered whether or not the woman was waiting for him to say anything. However, May quickly lifted her head to look at him once more. "You should have it."

The teen stole a small breath, opening his mouth before closing it again after realizing he didn't know how to respond to that. He glanced down at the jacket before his face scrunched ever so slightly. "...I can't." It was barely more than a whisper. Though apparently, it was loud enough for May to hear and disagree with as she clicked her tongue. "It's getting no use just sitting in the bottom of a box. You know he'd hate to see it discarded like that and I can't just...throw it away." She murmured, fingers rubbing delicately across the surface. She sniffed softly before her smile reappeared, eyes slightly misty as she pushed it into Peter's hands

"He'd want you to have it, honey."

She let go of the jacket before Peter could refuse her again, the teen stuck with the cloth in his hands as he stared down at it. He knew he should give it back to her again, say it didn't belong to him because it didn't. He knew who it belonged to and so did she. And...Peter wasn't him. Not by a long shot.

Still, with a small glance up, Peter could see the look on May's face, the silent plead for him to take the jacket, to accept her offer. To do this one small thing for her. He turned away and stared down at the jacket once more before a hint of a smile spread onto his face. "Isn't this the one he spilled coffee on?"

May shook her head with a chuckle. "Nah. That was another one."

"I'm sure you still have it somewhere in this mess." The teen murmured with a smirk, May pressing her tongue to the inside of her cheek as she threw him a dirty look before throwing her hand over her shoulder as she turned away. "Whatever. This place is basically like a thrift store. I have one of everything in here. I'm pretty sure I could score my hands on some crown jewels if I just look hard enough in the back of my closet." She called as she walked into the kitchen, her laugh mirroring Peter's.

The teen moved to sit on the couch, a small sigh escaping his lips as he realized it was probably the first time he'd sat down in the last two hours. Pulling one of the empty boxes closer to him with the toe of his shoe, Peter opened the flaps and grabbed a handful of the CDs, stacking them inside neatly and orderly until they were all situated inside.

In the corner of his eye, he could make out May grabbing a glass of water as she reached for the newspaper she hadn't had the time to look at during their little impromptu spring cleaning session. However, his focus quickly returned to the jacket sitting next to him. He hesitated for a moment before reaching over and pulling it into his lap. Running his hands over the leather, Peter could feel each and every imperfection in the stitching where Ben had had to make numerous repairs. Still, in the back of his mind Peter could remember a stubborn voice refusing to buy a new jacket, saying this one was special.

Peter let a smile stretch across his face as he neatly folded the jacket up and placed it on top of the box of CDs.

"Uh, Peter...?"

The teen looked up at his name, watching as May walked over, newspaper in hand. He opened his mouth to ask what was up, only to pause as he caught sight of the look on May's face. Instantly feeling a small pit opening up in his stomach, the teen narrowed his eyes and rose up to his feet. "What's wrong?" He asked, fearing the answer as May got closer.

"Did you happen to catch a glimpse of the front page today?"

"No...why?"

The woman threw him a concerned look before flipping the newspaper around so that the front page faced him. It was easy to pinpoint the exact moment when the image clicked in the teen's brain, for it perfectly coincided with the spreading look of absolute shock washing over the teen's face like a tidal wave.

"Shit..."

 

---

 

Saturday - April 9, 2016

Stark Tower - Main Offices

05:08 p.m.

TONY STARK'S NEW MYSTERY KID

Budding intern, secret love child, or shiny new toy?

Tony stared down at the paper in his hands for a moment before roughly throwing it down onto the desk and glaring back up. "Okay, so did they just decide to have a competition down at the post to see who could come up with the most horrific title? Cause hands down, they're pulling out all the stops on this one."

Rhodey shook his head with a scoff from where he stood near the corner of the office. "Yeah, you got that right. Similar stories are popping up on almost every newspaper out there. New York Times, Washington Post, even the Daily Bugle. And that's just print. We haven't even gotten to the online hits this is getting." He called with a shake of his head.

"No. No! What I want to know is what sicko decided the headlines for this? I mean, that is a fourteen-year-old kid on the front page of your newspaper!"

Both men raised their heads as Pepper walked into the office, hand pressed against the earpiece she was currently yelling into. Judging from her tone of voice and the pinched look of barely-restrained frustration, the conversation was not a pleasant one. "Yeah, no I got that. No, it's just- I'm saying..." Her voice suddenly cut off as she blinked in shock and moved her hand away from the earpiece.

With a loud groan, she pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose as she moved to sit on the corner of Tony's desk. "That's the third newspaper that's hung up on me in the last twenty minutes." She muttered.

Rhodey snorted and turned a disgusted look upon the others. "Figures. They're trying to make as much headway with this as possible which means they're gonna avoid you like the plague. At least until the media storm begins to settle."

The woman narrowed her eyes. "If they have the balls to paste stuff like that and spew it around the city, then they should have the balls to answer for it."

"Yeah, well...last I checked, 'accountable for their actions' isn't usually very high-listed on journalist resumes." Tony scoffed, only for Rhodey to lift a brow at him.

"Glass houses, Tones."

"...shut up."

The man lowered his head to glare back down at the paper before him. The image above the words was that of Tony and Peter from a few days before, sitting on the curb outside Delmar's. The picture obviously must have been taken before the two became aware of the media presence because their faces were lax and natural, identical grins on both of their features.

When Pepper had walked into his office early that morning with a mixed look of anger and worry, Tony had quickly realized that his sub-par morning was about to take a dive. Of course, his suspicions had been confirmed and the woman had shown him the article that damn near made him spit out the coffee he'd been sipping.

When the cameras and reporters had first found them on Thursday, Tony had known it would only be a matter of time before papers began to get published about the little encounter. The man just hadn't expected them to be so...well, like reporters. Vulgar and gross with a dash of conspiracy.

"What kind of damage are we looking at here?" Tony asked with a sigh.

Pepper moved off of the desk and turned to grab at some of the papers that currently rested on the desk. "Right now, it shouldn't be too bad considering they're basically working with nothing. All they have is his face."

With that, Tony spun around in his seat so that he was now facing the window. The sun still hung in the air above the skyline, but it was slowly making its way down, casting the sky around it in a nice golden hue that didn't really reflect the internal screaming that currently echoed off of Tony's rib cage as he continued to mull over the same situation he'd been thinking about for the past two hours.

The man let out a tired sigh and rubbed his face. Rhodey seemed to take notice of the man's slumped form as he walked over and placed a hand on the billionaire's shoulder. "Why don't I call up some food for us? If we go any further on an empty stomach, we're gonna start getting snippy."

"Start?" Tony quipped back, only for his friend to roll his eyes.

"So what's it gonna be?"

"Anything swimming in grease."

The colonel nodded his head. "Pizza it is, then. Be right back." He murmured before pulling his phone out of his pocket and walking out of the room.

Twisting his chair back around, Tony let out a muffled groan as he rested his elbows on the desk before him and placed his forehead down on the cool mahogany surface. Media storms were never fun to deal with. Never had been, no matter how used to them he was. He'd had his fair share considering his first exposure had been when he was four and the experiences ranged from boring interviews to god-awful 'night after' photos that still haunted him to this very day in a worst-of list that seemed never-ending.

Still, thinly-veiled hints of pedophilia were quickly making their way to the top of that list.

The tell-tale clack of Pepper's heels against the tile floors reached his ears before he felt her lay a gently hand over the top of his head. If he was feeling the effects of this, the man could only wince at how Peter would react when he finally saw it. The thought made a pit open up in his stomach that seemed to threaten his very intestines. Tony straightened up as he met Pepper's gaze.

"What are the chances he hasn't seen it yet?"

Pepper thought about it for a moment before she opened her mouth, only for the two to turn towards the door as they heard the sound of shoes scuffing against the floor getting closer and closer. Before they could question what the noise was, Peter was rounding the corner and standing in the doorway, face red and flushed as he panted heavily, hair slick against his forehead.

"Survey says...not great."

From behind the teen, Happy came into view as well, leaning up against the door frame as he wheezed, seemingly having run behind the kid the entire time. "Sorry...I was gonna call...tell you." He puffed. "Kid's fast."

"Peter?" Tony said the name with a hint of confusion. It was Saturday. Kid wasn't scheduled to come back in till Monday.

Suddenly realizing what their office currently looked like, the billionaire quickly pushed all the articles currently strewn atop his desk into the drawers and out of sight. "Yeah, hi." The teen gasped out, venturing farther into the office as he greedily gulped in more mouthfuls of air.

"Not that I'm not always happy to see my pasty-faced hormonal charges on unscheduled days of the week but what are you doing here and - did you run here?"

The teen didn't respond, only lifted a finger and waved it in a sort of gesturing motion before giving up on trying to convey whatever he was and simply giving a shaky thumbs up. He rested his hands on his knees as he gave the 'one minute' signal before inhaling a large breath of air and straightening back up.

"Right, so sorry for barging in like this. I know you probably weren't expecting to see me here today and if I'm really being honest I wasn't expecting to be here either and considering the circumstances I kinda wish I wasn't here but I am which kinda sucks cause I was actually helping out May today and - do you know how much of a hoarder she is? Right, of course you don't. Why would you know that? That's weird. But anyway I'm kinda losing where I'm going with this and-

"Kid, kid." Tony called, raising his hands to get the teen to shut up. Peter did with a snap of his jaw. "Can we just skip to the important part?"

"Right, right." Peter reached up to rub his neck. "So, I know you said I shouldn't be concerned about anything back when we were at Delmar's but..." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, one Tony didn't have to really look at to know what it was. "...I have some concerns anyway."

Tony glanced over at Pepper and noticed the concerned look she was now giving him. Turning back towards Peter, the billionaire stood up and threw him a smile. "Yeah, we were just talking about that now, right Pep?"

"Uh-"

"Yeah, so we were talking and Pepper was just telling me that she see's stuff like this all the time, kid. All the time. It's nothing to worry about. Just another run-of-the-mill scoop here, huh Pep?"

"I-"

"It's just a little thing, kid. Nothing to get all concerned over and-"

"Mr. Stark?" The kid called, effectively cutting the man off as he threw him an exasperated look. "I know that's not true. I mean, just look at this place." He murmured with an uneasy look, glancing around at the papers still lying on the floor by his feet. "Just give it to me straight here."

Not a good idea. "Kid I don't know if that's a good idea."

Peter shook his head. "Look, I don't wanna be sidewinded by this thing, alright? I don't wanna be in Home Ec on Monday and pull out my phone to see I'm the leading story on Good Morning America or something!" The teen sighed and ran a hand through his hair before glancing up at the man before him. "Just...just tell me the truth. Tell me what's going on."

Tony stared down at the teen, the swirling unease in his stomach not settling as he caught the pleading look on Peter's face. Still, as he looked over towards Pepper and saw her shrugging her shoulders at him, the billionaire couldn't help the sigh that bubbled past his lips once more. Lying to the kid was probably gonna cause more problems than just telling him the truth right now, he had to admit, no matter how uncomfortable it was going to make them.

He turned back towards Peter, only to pause as he caught sight of Rhodey in the background, phone pressed up to his ear as the colonel spoke to whoever was on the other end of the call, most presumably the closest pizzeria to them.

The billionaire felt a smirk fall onto his face. "You hungry, kid?"

"Always. Why?"

 

---

 

"What kind of state doesn't have legal laws prohibiting the release of information on a minor? It's the 21st century here! I thought kids had rights nowadays!"

Tony threw the kid a look of resigned frustration as he watched Peter pace back and forth in front of the couch he currently sat on. "New York, apparently. Trust us, that was the first thing we looked into."

Tony, Peter, Pepper, Rhodey and Happy all currently resided in the penthouse above the office they'd previously established. Boxes upon boxes of pizza currently sat opened on the table before them, different slices of different pizzas all held in their respective hands. Tony was grateful he'd asked Rhodey to order two extra pizzas for Peter considering the teen ate almost as much food for three separate people.

For the past hour, they'd been going over the details of the story as well as whatever they were gonna do to counter it.

Tony could honestly say he didn't want Peter to be a part of this conversation at all. He didn't want the kid involved in this matter in the first place so having to share the gorey details of their grizzly situation wasn't exactly primo.

But the billionaire also knew it wouldn't sit too well with the kid if they hid anything from him, which was what led to them all sitting around the living room horking down pizzas while spitballing the worst of their situation.

"Eventually people are gonna recognize you as the same kid from all those pictures with Richard Parker." Rhodey pointed out as he gestured with the pizza slice in his hand.

Happy furrowed his brow from his seat across from them. "And they'll probably have some questions as to why Parker's son is hanging around the top name for his rival's company."

"Right..." Peter murmured, glancing down at the slice in his hand. He stuffed the rest in his mouth before glancing over towards Tony. "So how do we counter that?"

Tony let out a groan as he sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, letting his hands hang down. "We...well actually I am gonna have to make sure our cover is flawless here, just in case people start to sniff around and get suspicious. So that means verifying all of your fake files, kid and getting started on the works for the new internship program."

Pepper furrowed her brow. "What 'new internship program'?"

"The one I'm gonna make."

All three adults turned to look at each other before turning towards the billionaire as if he'd just announced he was gonna jump from the top of the tower in nothing but Iron Man pajamas. Peter's head swiveled back and forth between the group and Tony, unsure as to what they were all confused about.

"Tony, are you serious?"

"You gotta be joking."

The man stared back at them as he raised his hands. "What? Why is that so hard to believe?"

Pepper threw him a deadpanned look as she pursed her lips. "Cause you're you. The same guy who thinks - and I quote - kids are useless snot-nosed little gremlins wadding around in their own vomit and bad ideas until they finally hit a growth spurt and become adults that can do something useful with their previously pointless lives'."

Everyone in the room grew silent at that. Peter turned to look at the billionaire, wide eyes blinking back at him. Tony stared at him before shaking his head. "I didn't say that."

"You always say that."

"I - they're paraphrasing...I didn't say exactly that." He waved his hands in the air, seemingly dispelling their words from the atmosphere as the others smirked behind their hands and Peter continued to stand there confused. "Anyway, I'm opening it up to college students, alright? Jeez, you really think I'm gonna let some beady-eyed, sweat driven little fourteen-year-old brats who can't even operate their own bodies let alone expensive equipment in here ?"

. . . .

. . . .

. . . .

"Ahem..."

"Damn, I keep forgetting you're here. Well, you're the exception anyway, kid so whatever!"

The other three adults didn't even bother in trying to hide their snickers this time, only Peter joined them with a toothy grin as he glanced down at the ground before turning towards the billionaire. "Well thanks. And if it means anything, I do like to think I have pretty fine motor skills. Well enough to crime fight, at least."

"Yeah, yeah..." Tony muttered with a pout before throwing a garlic knot at the kid's head. The kid caught it, obviously, popping it into his mouth afterwards as Tony turned to face the others once again. "Look, it's not ideal. If I could help it, I'd keep any and all people under the age of thirty out of my tower - don't even start with me again, Parker - but this is what we're dealing with."

The teen stared down at his hands, fingers flexing slightly, almost as if they were sore. He felt Mr. Stark turn to look at him, but the man didn't push him to speak as the teen merely traced the lines in his palm. After a moment, he finally spoke.

"Look, my dad...my dad is all about image, okay." He murmured. "That's why he's always making me go to those stupid gala things or donating to whatever charity of the week he thinks will garner up more support in the public eye." He said with a sigh, resting his cheek against a propped-up fist. "It's just...PR is gold to him. And if this gets worse...I don't know how he'll react, you know?"

He lifted his head to look at the adults around him, only to find they were staring at each other sharing mixed looks of concern, anger or frustration. Tony's fingers were curled into a fist that Peter knew had something to do with the words he's just spoken. Immediately feeling the same bout of indignant fire he'd felt with Danny, Peter glared down at the floor before him. "Don't take that the wrong way, alright? It's perfectly reasonable for any dad to get concerned when their son is making font page headlines with - let's face it - his top competitor." He growled out.

He could feel Tony turn to look at him, the teen inwardly cringing as he wondered maybe he'd been rude again, only for the man to speak before he could think about apologizing. "No, no. I understand, Pete. I got you."

The teen lifted his head to look at him for a moment before ducking away and giving a small nod, shutting his mouth and locking his jaw. Tony inwardly cursed, but said nothing about it. No point in making it any worse.

"Okay, so we got what we're gonna do once this gets bad, but what are we gonna do about it right now?" Happy asked, crumpling up the napkin in his hands before tossing it into his empty plate, thankfully shifting the topic once more.

Rhodey leaned back in his chair, watching as Peter continued to pace back and forth in front of them. Nobody told him to stop. If anything, it was better than watching the nervous energy spread to his face. "So far, it seems to be contained mainly to the papers. I haven't gotten word of any news channels running with it."

Pepper pursed her lips slightly. "Probably waiting for more info to leak through."

"Yeah, hopefully bad info on me. Lately, I seem to be their favorite billionaire-flavored chew toy." Tony muttered from his seat as he angrily ripped another slice away from the box.

"So, they're not working with a lot right now, right?" Peter asked, the others nodding. "Then that means they'll probably be even more eager to find more pictures."

"Exactly." Rhodey said from his seat. "Which is exactly why the two of you need to lay low for a while." At Peter's look of mild concern, the man continued. "Okay, not really you, Pete. Just...right now they're starved for more information, so they're gonna be on the lookout for the two of you together, okay? So, until this dies down a little more, I suggest the two of you avoid going out in public spaces for a little while. Together, at least."

Tony nodded along as his friend spoke, shrugging his shoulders as the man finished. "Seems easy enough. Though I must admit, your little plan to get me out of the tower more is gonna take a little bit of a dive I'm afraid." He said with a mock pout, Pepper rolling her eyes while Rhodey flicked him off.

The billionaire chuckled and turned his head to gauge Peter's reaction, only to pause as he noticed the kid rubbing his arm, glancing down at the ground as a look of resigned disappointment made its way onto his face. Tony cocked a head in mild confusion, for the teen had been taking everything else they'd been saying fairly well. Why now was he looking so...upset?

Nevertheless, the man stood up and made his way over to the teen, placing his hands on the kid's shoulders. Peter jumped slightly at the touch but lifted his head as Tony stared down at him. "Hey, it's gonna be fine, kid." He said with a small smile, assuming the teen was just upset about the whole ordeal. "We've got your back on this, alright?"

Peter stared up at the man before glancing over towards the others, who were all making their way over as well. "I know it's all a bit overwhelming, Peter." Pepper said with a sad smile. "But we've been dealing with stuff like this for a long time now. And our PR team's the best money can buy."

"I'll be there to drive you to the Tower, alright kid? If anyone ever gives you trouble, I'll be right there waiting for you." Happy said with his usual frown in place. Though Tony had known the man long enough to notice that his frown held small traces of a smile at the corners of his lips, his eyes not quite so hard as usual.

Rhodey patted the teen on the back. "It's gonna be fine, Peter. All we gotta do is get through to Stage 5 and we're in the clear."

At that, Peter pulled away to stare at the man in confusion, tilting his head slightly. "Stage 5?" He asked before turning to face all of them. "What's Stage 5?"

"Stage 5's what we're shooting for here, kid." Tony said with a small sigh. "The little light at the end of the tunnel so to speak."

Obviously, the explanation didn't do much to help Peter, for the kid continued to scrunch his nose and narrow his eyes in thought. "I don't get it. There's stages? Are they like steps or something?"

"Kinda?" Tony said with a shrug of his shoulders. "We've dealt with so many media storms in our lifetime that we started to see a repeating pattern with all of the ordeals we encountered. After a while, we were able to organize them all into stages of sorts."

Peter seemed to perk slightly at that. "Oh, so...like a lifespan?"

Tony nodded his head. "Yeah. Stage 1's what we're dealing with now. That initial little drip of information that leaks to the masses. Usually the info itself is small but it's enough for them to get the scent of blood in the water. This is the step with that first bout of excited drabble."

"Stage 2 is the initial aftermath." Pepper chimed in as she moved back over to the table and began to pick up the empty pizza boxes. "After the information begins to taper off, the masses are left starving with that one tiny bit of news they did get, the excitement bubbling down to nothing as the story is seemingly lost in the sea of Hollywood bubblegum that usually overrides it." She passed some of the boxes to the boys and motioned for them to follow her over to the kitchen

"Stage 3 is the release of more info." Happy said as he dropped the boxes onto the counter, doing the same with the boxes Peter handed to him. "In our case, it'll be when people find out you're Richard Parker's kid. It mainly just covers the extra information that revitalizes the original story."

Rhodey wiped a napkin over his grease-covered fingers. "Stage 4 follows and is undoubtedly the worst. It's the tsunami of mass hysteria that comes after the story drops. People tweet, news stations gossip, conspiracy sites open up. Basically all the shit you could associate with a media storm can be summed up in Stage 4."

Peter hopped up onto the bar, watching the others talk with a look of slight concern. He blew out a sigh and rested his cheek against his fist. "Great. So I have that to look forward to."

"Well, hold on there." Tony called as he leaned up against the bar beside the kid. "That brings us to Stage 5, the heaven send. That's the final aftermath. When the hype dies down and everything starts to go back to normal. People get bored and move on to someone else to hound. Stage 5 ends it."

Peter turned to look at him before letting out a small chuckle. "Well then Stage 5 can't come soon enough." Tony smirked and lightly tapped the teen in the shoulder with his fist.

It didn't take them long to finish cleaning up the rest of dinner, despite the number of pizza boxes they'd actually managed to go through. Tony stood over by the sink, depositing the last of the dishes in before mentally reminding himself to set the dishwasher later that night. Behind him, Peter spoke with Rhodey and Happy. Judging from the occasional deep chuckles and higher-pitched giggles, the trio were entertaining themselves fairly well.

The billionaire was so preoccupied with the dishes before him that he barely even noticed when Pepper walked over and rested a hand on his shoulder. The man turned to look at her as she spoke. "Does Peter need to be home soon?" She asked in a hushed tone, even though the two knew it was basically pointless. If he wanted to, Peter could probably hear them even if they went into a different room.

However, stealing a glance over towards the kid, Tony noticed he didn't look up from where he was laughing as Rhodey showed him pictures from his phone. Tony cringed slightly, realizing there had to be quite a number of incriminating photos of himself on his friend's phone. Nevertheless, he leaned closer to the woman before him and shook his head. "Said his dad was working late tonight."

The woman gave a nod of her own before turning to watch the three others from where they sat at the bar. It was hard to really get a read on the woman's face, but the small smile that spread onto her lips was indicator enough. For a moment, the two said nothing, simply content with watching silently as a calming atmosphere settled over the room in a way that hadn't been present for some time now.

She watched for a moment longer before leaning closer to the man next to her. "You're doing a good job, Tony."

He said nothing for a moment, watching Peter smile as he giggled at something Rhodey said, Happy grumbling off to the side that made it seem like the joke was at his expense.

Tony had to admit, Peter was doing better. The teen hadn't stuttered once in the time they'd been together, not to mention he also seemed much more relaxed talking to them as a group rather than just individually as they'd had to do in the first few weeks of meeting him. Whatever Tony was doing, as horrible as he felt he was at this, it seemed to be doing...something.

The billionaire let out a small chuckle of his own. "Yeah, well...kid does most of the work for me, really." He murmured, feeling a small weight on his chest lift away as the teen threw his head back in laughter when Happy reached over to smack the colonel in the arm at whatever they'd said to each other.

Still, it was hard to ignore the looming obstacles gathering just outside the comfort of the Tower, a fact that made itself known on the frown that quickly spread onto the man's face. "We're gonna have hell to deal with soon enough, Pep." He murmured softly.

The woman said nothing at that, turning to glance back at the others before smiling once more. Tony blinked in surprise as he watched the woman hold up a couple of glasses of champagne. "Well then, let's make the most of this then, shall we?"

Tony stared at her for a moment before allowing the smile to return to his face, if only for a little while. He could enjoy it while it lasted. Holding up a 'one minute' sign, the man dug around in the fridge for a moment before pulling out a juice box, Pepper rolling her eyes as she silently mouthed 'oh my god' to him. He returned it with a cheeky grin before they made their way over to the others.

The other two guys stared at the drinks before growing smiles of their own, looks that grew even larger as Tony handed Peter the juice box. The teen stared down at it with a cocked brow and a deadpanned look before snatching it out of the billionaire's hands. "I hate that I love this kind." He muttered, the others cracking even wider grins as he removed the little plastic straw.

Nevertheless, Peter held out his little juice box - complete with bendy straw - as the others held out their glasses. Despite the less than ideal circumstances that had brought them where they were, they couldn't hold back the smiles that spread onto their faces, not even Happy, who despite his best efforts, had a small upturn to the corners of his mouth.

Tony glanced around at all the people before him. People who, to anybody else, should be nothing more than work companions. A military and government liaison. His company CEO. A chauffeur, bodyguard and security manager wrapped in one. And finally, a high-school intern that moonlighted as a teenage superhero. It was almost like a demented version of the Breakfast Club, sans the 80s clothes and questionable haircuts.

Still, the man could honestly say that each and every person standing before him meant something more. He couldn't exactly put it into words, per say. If anything it was more of a feeling. Something deep in his gut that told him everything he needed was right there in front of him.

It was a gut feeling that had hidden itself away the second he'd felt a shield break his chest.

But in that moment, Tony didn't think about the media. He didn't think about Ross. Didn't think about the Accords, or the Avengers, or Steve. All he could think about was the glass in his hands and the smile on Peter's face.

"To Stage 5."

"TO STAGE 5!"

 

---

 

Sunday - April 10, 2016

Queens, NY - East Flushing

01:13 a.m.

"I'm gonna tear you to pieces, you little freak!"

"What? For stopping your little shopping spree? You know you're a heavy spender, girl! If anything, I just spared you from some serious shopper's regret later on!"

Spidey couldn't really say anymore before the blast was slamming into his chest, sending him careening into the alleyway wall behind him. He fell to the ground and couldn't suppress a groan as he placed a hand to his head.

Okay, so maybe he did talk a bit too much during these battles.

He didn't have anymore time to contemplate such a thing as a fist came swinging for his face. Ducking out of reach and flipping backwards right as the reinforced fist slammed into the concrete wall where his head had been, the hero leapt away and clung to the wall above the two thugs.

They were both dressed similarly, with dark clothes that seemed a bit scraggly and ragged. One of them was a woman who had a fairly large stature with defined muscles and a strong chin despite her young features. The other was a much skinnier man.

However, neither of the two seemed like anything impressive. They just seemed like your average run-of-the-mill thugs looking for a score.

Albeit, they did seem...pretty young.

Or at least, they would have if it weren't for the blaster in the skinny man's hands and the high-powered metallic gloves reinforcing the larger girl's arms and hands, making her punches all the more lethal.

The large metal crates presumably filled with stolen tech from the manufacturing building they were fighting next to sat discarded near the back walls, seemingly forgotten about as the thugs faced off against the masked arachnid.

Peter leapt off the wall right as the skinny man fired off a blast from the smoking gun, skidding along the ground as he slid under the man's legs and kicked them out from underneath him, flipping backwards as the man's partner punched the air where he'd been seconds earlier. Catching one of the nearby trash cans in his webs, Spider-Man swung it around before hurtling it towards the gloved woman.

She slammed her fist into the oncoming projectile, the can exploding into bits of flaming metal and garbage as the gloves hissed and the metallic plates shifted before falling still once more.

Peter mentally cursed the gloves, summing them up to be one of Curt's new inventions before flipping away from another punch, only to land right in the path of the gun's new blast.

He shouted in pain as the blast him him in the shoulder, sending him skidding backwards. His feet slid against the concrete before he gained traction once more, leaning down to press a hand to the cold floor as he hissed in pain and fought to catch his breath, only to dodge to the side as the woman slammed her fist into the concrete, leaving cracks and dents in the stained ground.

He slid against the ground once more and whipped back around, body poised and low to the ground as he watched the woman stand back up, small pieces of gravel falling away from her hand. "We're just trying to do a job." She finally spoke, thin strands of brunette hair falling down around her face as she stared back at him.

Peter felt the sensors on his mask's lenses shrink and narrow. "So am I."

She narrowed her own eyes at the hero before gritting her teeth and charging.

Having been ready for her attack, Peter flipped over onto his back, performing a backwards hand stand before shooting his legs out where they connected hard with the girl's chest, driving her backwards.

She quickly recovered, twisting around with a reared back fist, only for Spidey to spring up and fire a barrage of quick-fire webs at her, the substance wrapping around her midsection, trapping her arms to her sides.

Skidding to a halt, the woman glared down at her trapped form before letting out a loud grunt of effort, the metallic bindings on her arms glowing slightly as the plates shifted once more and she snapped her arms up, the webbing ripping right along with it.

"Shit..." The teen muttered underneath his breath, only to yelp as another bright blast shot right over his head. Ducking down to the ground, he decided to switch tactics.

Focusing on the gauntlets in the larger woman's hands, he dodged another blast from the gun and leapt up onto the wall, springing off of it and towards the girl.

"You know what? This is getting too graphic for you. I don't want you watching this." Firing a glob of webbing towards her eyes, the thug grunted as it made contact, effectively blinding her.

However, before Peter could get a good shot at her gauntlets, the woman swung around wildly, causing him to leap backwards right as another blast shot forward, hitting the teen in the side and sending him hurtling backwards.

Hitting the stone floor hard, the hero grunted and quickly rose back up to his feet before he could be blindsided once more. The familiar burn of the weapon's blast could be felt through the suit as his skin pulled taut once more. He choked back the whimper of pain and instead blew a harsh breath past his lips.

The woman reached up with a snarl and ripped the webbing in her eyes away from her face. Whipping around, her gaze landed on the hero once more, but not before he was already making his way towards her.

With that, Peter leapt up above the woman's head and landed on her shoulders, webbing up her legs and yanking hard, the thug letting a shout fall from her mouth as she slammed into the ground face-first.

Her skinnier partner seemed to panic slightly as he saw his partner go down, especially when Spidey started to web up the large woman's arms to her sides and render the gloves useless as they were covered in the goo-like substance.

Nevertheless, he charged up the gun again and fired a huge green blast towards them.

"Whoa!" Peter shouted as he leapt out of the way right as the blast tore a huge hole in the wall behind him, bricks and stones clattering to the ground. Rearing back up, Spidey stared down the man as his hands shook. "Watch where you're pointing that thing, man! You're gonna shoot your eye out!"

The man chose to ignore his comments as he continued to fire blast after blast while Peter ducked and dodges, bright green lights lighting up the alley like a demented Christmas lights show.

Faintly picking up the soft sound of police sirens in the distance, Spidey realized he'd have to wrap this up quickly if he didn't want the cops to interrupt them, increasing the likelihood that someone would get hurt.

Twirling right by another blast, the teen shot a glob of webbing at the man's feet. Off balance, the thug fell onto his backside, eyes staring fearfully at the vigilante as he approached. Before he could think better of it, the man's shaking hands reached towards the dial on the side of the blaster, praying there was some sort of setting that would help him.

"WAIT!" Spider-man shouted as the blaster began to hum loudly, the glow emanating from inside beginning to fizzle and grow brighter with each second. The man obviously had no idea what to do as he whimpered and stared at the gun in his hands, seemingly frozen.

Rushing forward, Peter ripped the gun out of the man's hands and wrapped it as thickly as possible in webbing before whipping it as far as he could up into the air. A second of silence passed before the gun exploded in a hail of green light and burnt webbing.

The two remaining fighters ducked down as the blast blew right above their heads, warily glancing back up as they took in the sight of smoke billowing around them

Peter and the trapped thug stared at the sky for a moment before the former turned to the latter. "You know, that would have been great to Instagram. Why don't I ever have my phone when I need it? That ever happen to you? Frikkin sucks."

 

---

 

The sirens he'd heard before in the midst of the fight were steadily growing louder as Peter moved the webbed up thugs over to the back wall of the alleyway, lifting the heavy metal crates of stolen goods over his shoulder like they were nothing.

Placing the boxes down next to the thugs with a loud thud that reverberated through the ground and made his toes twitch in the suit, he webbed up the crates and positioned them next to the two criminals like a nicely wrapped present for the officers.

"And...there! Don't you two just look lovely? Now play nice for your ol- pal Spidey, huh?"

"Come on, man! Just let us go! We won't tell nobody!"

The teen turned to face them with a shrug of his shoulders and a playful smirk spreading across his face underneath the mask. It was always fun pleading with criminals after the fact, seeing just what they were willing to do in order to gain their freedom.

One guy offered to buy him dinner. The guy only pick-pocketed some guy's watch which Peter returned, so he settled for a milkshake and a slap on the wrist.

"See, now if I did that for you, I'd have to do it for everybody and that just doesn't seem very productive for a crime-fighting vigilante, now does it?" He chuckled before turning away. "No, I think I'll let you try that one out on the cops. Who knows? Maybe they'll have a different answer if you're nice enough."

The woman glared down at the ground and locked her jaw, seemingly realizing she wasn't going to get anywhere with the teen. Her partner, however, had a much different reaction.

"They're gonna kill us!"

Peter paused at that, glancing unimpressed at the thugs. "Oh, please. I think you're being a bit dramatic. Just don't mention anything about donuts to them and you'll be fine. Seriously, apparently they hate that. Guess they're more scones people."

The man shook his head, glaring at the hero with wide fearful eyes as the teen turned and began to walk away. "Not the cops, you idiot! Monarch!"

Peter froze in his tracks, a deep stone dropping in the pit of his stomach, nearly making his body drop at the sheer weight of it as it plunked down into his gut like a boulder smashing into steady waters below.

The teen felt a shaky breath leave his lips as he slowly turned to stare back at the two thugs, who were now throwing him looks of desperation.

Despite the fact that he'd known these guys had been working for his father the second he'd seen the weapons they'd been using and the products they'd tried to steal, he still couldn't help the gut feeling that dropped at the borderline terror edging the man's voice.

He knew that fear. He'd grown up with that fear.

(Forget about them.)

(They brought this on themselves.)

(They deserve it.)

He turned back around and didn't bother in facing them as he continued to walk towards the end of the alleyway. The lights above his head seemed to flicker with each step he took, seemingly leaving the alleyway darker and darker the father he went, like shadows stretching from his retreating form, reaching out dark icy claws towards the two people he'd left.

His body poised to spring up and web away, but for some reason...his hand just wouldn't obey.

"We failed him. He won't let us go."

(Just jump. Just jump and swing away.)

"Once the cops get us, he'll send people after us, that is if the cops that get us aren't already in on it too. We'll be dead within the week!"

(So what? So what if you know that's true? Doesn't matter!)

"That's what happened to everyone else!"

(Fucking LEAVE!)

"Please...I-I don't wanna die."

. . . .

. . . .

He pushed back the shrill shrieking of the voice in the back of his mind and turned to face the thugs. Now that the battle was over and the adrenaline was no longer spiking in dangerous intervals, Peter could see what he hadn't been able to see before.

He saw the softer edges of the girl's face, the large brown eyes in a face that hadn't even been granted a mask.

The fresh meat were never given masks. As if their existence was already so inconsequential that their faces provided the perfect mask already.

He saw the scars on the man's face, faded and white but still visible. He saw a man that wasn't ready to be called a man yet. He couldn't have been much older than nineteen.

In fact, neither of them could have been older than 25.

. . . .

Too young to die.

(They all are.)

He knelt down to face the pair, the boy shrinking back slightly as Peter leaned closer. The teen tried to ignore the sound of encroaching sirens as he faced off against them, the harsh glare that had been marring the girl's face no longer present. "What's your name?" He found himself asking before he could think better of it.

The boy stared at him for a second, eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to get a read on him. He opened his mouth, only for the girl to nudge him and shake her head. He glanced over at her before turning back to face Peter.

"Bobby. M-my name's Bobby."

The teen stared at him, taking in his shaking form and terrified face. He could still hear the voice in the back of his head, condemning him for his actions, but he just couldn't stop looking at the boy's face. He couldn't stop hearing the fear in his voice, the pleading desperation he'd come to know so well.

"That's a nice name."

The pair blinked in surprise at the vigilante in front of him, the few words being the only real dialogue they'd shared not counting quips and banter.

"S-short for Robert..."

"Figured as much."

Peter knew speaking to such people perhaps wasn't the smartest thing to do, then again, neither was what he was about to do next. And yet, the teen couldn't really bring himself to care as he reached into one of the compartments on his belt, removing a vial of clear liquid.

"Listen to me." He said, his voice now strong and commanding, a sharp contrast to the quiet tone it had taken on. "You have to leave the weapons. You are to never see your boss again. Never interact with them, LISTEN-" He snapped his fingers near their faces to make sure they hung onto his words. "They will try to find you once they realize you've split. You need to lay low and stay in the shadows. No deals. No bangers. No nothing. You understand me. If you show your face to anyone on the inside, you will die. Do you understand?"

They frantically nodded their heads as Peter began to pour the liquid onto the webbing, a soft hissing filling the air as they instantly began to dissolve. As soon as it was gone, the girl leapt up to her feet, tore off the straps on her arms and sprinted down the alleyway, disappearing into the shadows before Peter even had a chance to open his mouth.

The teen stared off at where she'd disappeared to, the noticeable lack of shuffling sounds notifying him that Bobby hadn't tried to do the same.

Letting a small sigh fall from his lips, Peter slowly rose up to his feet and turned around, meeting Bobby's wide-eyed stare. The boy stood just a little taller than him, Bobby's fingers twitching nervously at his sides as he angeled his eyes towards the end of the alleyway where the sound of sirens continued to grow.

Still, he made no moves to escape, simply staring back at Peter with wide blinking eyes.

. . . .

"Why?"

Peter stared at him for a moment, the flashing of red and blue lights dimply growing stronger on the walls of his periphery. The teen swallowed down the bile rising in the back of his throat and curled his sweaty fingers into fists as he shut his eyes and turned to stare at the wall beside them where the crates still stood stacked and webbed safely. "You should go. They'll be here any second."

The boy glanced once more to the alleyway exit and then back to Spider-Man. He opened his mouth, only to grit his teeth and throw the hero a look that conveyed more than words ever could before he turned on his heel and disappeared.

Peter stared after him for a moment, body seemingly numb as his fingers twitched at his sides, almost seeming to hope the small movement would awaken the nerves in his muscles. However, the bright flashing of lights jarred him from his thoughts.

Quickly shaking his head, the teen turned and fired a web above his head.

Lifting off into the air, Peter found the numbness didn't leave. Not as he fired another web, not as the tell-tale weightlessness of free-falling grabbed his throat and punched his gut before he pulled back up, and not as the wind whipped around him like wild banshees clawing at his bones.

Despite the stimuli that flared in New York City's night life hours, Peter found none of it could warm the freezing numbness that seemed to have settled in his chest. None of it could wake him from the dream-like state he found himself in, a state he could only hope wouldn't last past morning.

And as he swung and his house drew nearer and the numbness grew, Peter found he still couldn't answer the boy's question.

(Why?)