Chapter Text
“We might be good, but I don’t think Black Spider is okay.” Peter mutters.
“Was that Spidey?” Babs asks. “How’s he looking?”
“Bad.” Peter replies. “He needs medical attention.”
“Wait, can you hear me? Your comms aren’t on- Never mind. I forgot about the hearing thing.” Babs huffs. “I meant you, Spidey. I care more if you’re alright than the assassin. I know, weird morals.”
“Oh.” Peter lets that sink in. He forgot, again, that they care about his well being. In his defense, it also makes sense to ask about Black Spider’s condition, assassin or not. He has the info they need. “I’m fine.”
“Wrong answer.” Dick makes a buzzer noise. “Let’s try again.”
“This is nothin’.” Peter assures, but it does feel like something. He lifts his head halfway off of Dick’s shoulder to look at the other man. “Black Spider is worse.”
Black Spider is passed out on the ground behind Dick, his face sort of smushed into the wall from when Dick had kicked him out of the way. He looks pretty close to dead. Which Peter feels bad about, relieved about, and also bad for being relieved about. But ‘close to dead’ doesn’t mean ‘dead,’ so Peter thinks some leeway in the emotional turmoil is fine. Black Spider is breathing, and that means neither Peter nor Dick killed him, and that’s always a win.
(However, said breathing is accompanied by a wheezing noise that sounds very not pleasant. Points off for that.)
Peter can’t look away from the mess that is his hand. He had nearly bit clear through the meat of it, leaving a semi-circle of torn flesh and metal from his spider suit. If he had bit down just a little further, Black Spider might have lost a chunk of his hand.
Looking at the hand is a reminder of what just happened, but it’s not like he needs the reminder. His gums are aching, he’d never experienced that kind of pain before besides the couple cavities he got when he was a runaway. He runs his tongue over his teeth in an effort to relieve some of the pain but with little success. The taste of blood in his mouth is making him woozy. And the feeling of the fangs pressed against the back of his lip is discomforting, to say the least, because they shouldn’t be there, but are. Peter only manages to tear his gaze away when Dick speaks.
“He’s fine. He’ll walk it off.” Dick says, not bothering to look at Black Spider.
“Roger that, Wing.”
Black Spider groans minutely behind him, muscles twitching from the shock he received.
“Uh, not- not really.” Peter disagrees. “It’s kind of concerning how close to death he is.”
“Getting conflicting reports… Leaning towards Wing’s report being more accurate, if only for less work later when B makes us log it…”
“It’s just an electric shock. I have them set to what I can handle, so he’s fine.”
“That’s actually super alarming because I got struck by literal lightning today and I’m not even half as bad as that. Either he’s being a drama queen- which, seems to be the case for him- or you got the power of Zeus in those sticks. Could be both.” Peter rambles.
“You what?” Dick leans back to try and see his face. “You got what?”
“Pretty sure he just said ‘struck by lightning.’ Could be wrong though. Begging for that to have been said on this news report I have pulled up.”
“Actually I also kind of bit him, so he wasn’t just electrocuted.” It’s only just now hitting him how that could potentially be very, very, very bad. “Oh, god, wait, I’m radioactive. And do I have venom now? It’s hard to tell with all that blood if his hand is gonna fall off. Dick, what’s that wound look like? Do we gotta suck the venom out? Like a snake bite? Is that how it works? I’m not doing that. I mean, if I have to save his life, maybe there’s a vacuum nearby that can do that.”
“Ah, yeah, a vacuum in the Amusem*nt Park.”
“Is that why your mouth is all bloody? That’s not your blood?”
“Some of it might be, but most of it is definitely his. I bit him, like, real bad.” Peter continues to talk while Dick moves his hands to pull back his upper lip. “Did ‘ou kno’ ‘hat hu’an ‘ites are really ‘aw’ul?”
Dick takes in a slow breath and removes his hands from the Chomp-Zone like a genius (Peter is unaware if his spider-instinct is gonna make him bite someone again) and places them on either side of Peter’s face. His own lips are pressed into a thin line, and he takes a moment to find what he wants to say.
“And now it’s double awful ‘cause I got all spidery…” Peter trails off.
“You could have told me you have fangs, kid.” Dick says.
“Can someone please clue me in on what the hell is going on?”
For a moment, Peter is confused, because he thought that this would be a change that was noticed almost immediately. But when he touches his mouth to feel the fangs with his fingers again, he finds that the fangs move.
When he closes his mouth, the fangs point downwards a little more like regular canines do. When his jaw opens, they move forward, and eugh that is such a gross feeling. So gross that Peter scrunches his face in distaste and shuts his mouth again, if only so he doesn’t have to feel the fangs move. And while he can feel the bumps on his lip from the outside when he touches it with his fingers, the fangs probably wouldn’t be notable while he’s just talking and not showing off his teeth. He has to really pull back his lip or bare his teeth for them to be visible.
“You- You know, that’s- It’s totally… normal…”
“Let’s try that again. With a little less lying this time.” Babs advises.
“Right, yeah, okay. I’m trying to be supportive but I think I’m very lost, at the moment.” Dick says, with the air of a man who hadn’t read about fangs being part of puberty when he was reading parenting books. “This is… totally… cool that you have them, and not at all freakish, so there’s nothing to be self conscious about. But a little warning would have been nice.”
Alright. Peter will hand it to him. For having very little time to prepare for that, Dick handled that well. He sounded genuine that Peter having fangs is not so far out there. If Peter was really concerned about the social aspect of this (and he might be, later, but right now a man might be dying near him), he would have been comforted. As it stands, though, Dick is far off the mark.
“I just found out about these like five seconds ago.” Peter tells him. Dick nods slowly, and he opens his mouth to maybe ask more about that, but another thought strikes Peter. And in his injured, lightning-struck, emotionally exhausted state, he can’t stop rambling. “sh*t, wait, what if he turns into Spider-Man-Man? Man-Man-Spider? Like, do you think if I bit him like I got bit by the spider then he would get powers too? Then he would really be a Copy-Spider. Oh, hell, did I give him his new code name and powers? It’s better than BS aka Bullsh*t, but he totally doesn’t deserve it, ‘cause he tried to kill me and I don’t think he’s earned a cool code name or my powers-”
“Please slow down before I have a heart attack.” Dick interrupts. “You said something about lightning and now you have fangs and venom- possibly?”
“I’m gonna go ahead and call B.” Babs butts in with a low whistle. “I told him I’d keep him updated with everyone’s conditions. You, uh, deal with this. Good luck with that.”
hello friend!
Dick curses something about a traitor and pinches the bridge of his nose. Peter reluctantly lets go of Dick’s neck and leans out of the hug to look behind Dick. Dick does too, instantly reaching for his escrima stick to potentially shock the everloving sh*t out of another person, but Peter stops him. Dick frowns at that, but when Jason turns the corner, he relaxes. Jason lowers the gun he was pointing, looking between Dick and Peter in one corner and then to Black Spider on the ground. Then, he looks back at them.
“Hood, there you are. I was starting to get worried something happened.” Dick turns to face him.
Jason thankfully doesn’t look any worse for wear than when Peter last saw him, except for his poor jacket. That’s actually very much worse for wear, sort of like Black Spider is at the moment. It’s slung over his good shoulder and ripped all along the back like he had pulled it. It sucks, because he wears it a lot so it must be a favorite of his. He’s fine, but… when the colorful lights spin to point more directly at Jason-
“Are you covered in glitter?”
“What the f*ck happened here?” Jason ignores Peter’s super important question.
“I bit him.” Peter frowns. “Why are you covered in glitter?”
Jason uses his foot to turn Black Spider over on his back, gun lazily pointed at him. When he deems that Black Spider isn’t about to pop up and attack any time soon, he stuffs the gun away, clicks his tongue and shrugs. “Well, if he put his hand near your chompers…”
“You’re covered in glitter.”
“You just love pointin’ out the damn obvious today, don’t you? ‘Jason, we got struck by lightning!’” He purposefully makes his voice high when mocking him, and Peter scowls at him because he does not sound like that, thank you very much. He sounds cool and manly. Dick sits up straighter, jaw dropping and Jason talks over him. “‘Jason, you’re covered in glitter.’”
“You both got struck by lightning? That’s a thing that happened?”
“You two are bad at watching code names.” Peter grumbles, because he can’t find anything else to be annoyed about. He and Jason both elect to ignore Dick’s panic. Jason probably for the reason that he always does that, and Peter because the glitter question is much more pressing than the lightning, in his opinion.
“Oh, what, like he’s even a little conscious right now? What’s he gonna do about it? Remember what I’m saying?” Jason crouches down (as best he can, considering he’s a giant and the maze is close together), and he lightly slaps Black Spider’s face twice. “Wakey wakey~”
“Little Wing, really?” Dick frowns in disappointment.
“What? I’m doing great right now! He’s knocked out and vulnerable and I’m being all nice by not slaughtering him while he’s down for chasing my nephew around that f*ckin’ clown’s favorite place.” Jason’s words make Dick wince, and the disappointment fades away.
“…You alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine, nothing happened in the five minutes you were away from me, Big Wing.” Jason snarks half heatedly.
“Besides apparently encountering a glitter bomb.” Peter remarks.
“Shut it, twerp.”
“Whatever you say, Rainbow Sparkles.” Peter retorts. Dick snorts, but shakes his head like it’s not supposed to be hilarious.
“What even happened? Can someone tell me that now?” Dick asks. “Why did you two even come in here?”
“Lightning struck one of the poles next to us and we got a little bit injured from it, so I decided not to brave the storm and we came in here instead. I wasn’t planning to go in, but one of those traps activated and I got stuck, obviously.”
“Obviously. I had to tear you out of it.” Dick sighs. He looks pointedly at Peter. “And you decided to run off into the booby trapped place.”
“It was a brilliant idea to save Hood’s life, at the time, so you should be thanking me for being the most clever person in the world.” Peter tells him, not believing it for even a second. Okay, maybe half a second. “But can we like, debrief later? ‘Cause I’m super tired and Black Spider might be super dying. Again, I don’t know what the effects of that will be.”
“Effects of what? Getting electrocuted? Dickwing has it set to what he can handle, Black Spider’ll walk it off.” Jason waves it off.
“He’s got fangs.” Dick states.
“Who? Black Spider? What’s that got to do with this?”
“No.” Dick gestures at Peter. Peter begrudgingly lifts his upper lip to show off the new additions that he doesn’t know how to feel about yet. Jason’s brows raise up high.
“…When did you get those!?”
“Like, a few minutes ago.” Peter points at Black Spider. “I bit him. He injected some weird version of spider venom with a needle into my neck-”
“What!?” Dick moves Peter’s face around to get a look at his neck. When he finds it, he scowls and shoots a dark look in Black Spider’s close-to-dead direction.
“-and it sort of made me freak out and I bit him on instinct and now he’s all like, writhing in pain and stuff, and I don’t know what that all means for him but I feel like we should be worried about that. This could be like a zombie or a vampire situation where I bite him and he turns into a spider too.”
“No one warned me that ya might have rabies.” Jason huffs. “Seems like somethin’ ya tell someone.”
“My spider powers are not rabies and you should apologize to the spider in my brain that controls me.”
“Okay, I’m not exactly in a hurry to help him out, but I guess we gotta handle that.” Dick grunts. “Look at me.” He says to Peter first, putting his hands on his shoulders and looking Peter in the eyes. “No downplaying it. What are your injuries?”
Peter purses his lips. “You were, like, there for-”
“Just humor me.”
“It goes quicker if you just tell him, Itsy Bitsy.”
Peter groans. There’s no getting out of it. He shouldn’t want to, but alas, he’s not used to having to admit his injuries after a battle, still. He does say, “That nickname is weird now.” then relays the injuries that he has/knows about. There might be a couple that he’s not aware of yet. Dick nods at that, then turns to Jason.
“Your turn.”
“f*ck off.” He flips Dick off.
“Hypocrite!” Peter points at him. “You’re a big fat McHypocrite!”
“Oh, don’t worry about Little Wing.” Dick sounds way too naturally calm, and Jason stiffens. “I’m sure Alfie will love to pry that information out of him during the time that he could have already started treating Jason for his wounds.”
Jason and Peter both shiver at that. Peter has only known Alfred for a few days, but he knows that Alfred is a force to be reckoned with. Jason mutters out his injuries reluctantly and Dick smirks like a satisfied cat. He presses a finger to his comm, sounding like he’s holding back on acting too much like he’s one something but failing at it. Jason glares at the back of his head, mocking him. “Oracle, what’s the radar look like right now?”
“It’s let up considerably in the past few minutes. Still raining in the lower districts but it’s cleared enough that B and Dami can get back to relief work. Double-R joined in. They’re helping first responders. What’d I miss with you three?”
“Hood and Spidey both need to get checked out as soon as we get to the Cave. Black Spider needs transport, he’s got a bite to the hand that’s making him lose blood-” Jason is wrapping the hand to stem the flow with the shreds of his leather jacket. “-and he might be injected with unknown spider venom.”
There’s a beat of silence. “Unknown, huh?”
“Unknown.” Dick says, but then looks at Peter. “Unless you know what to say?”
“Man, I wish I did.”
“Unknown.” Dick confirms.
“…Alright. We’ll figure out transport and I’ll confirm with Blackgate about an incoming case.”
“I can pick him up.” Peter is pretty sure that even as exhausted as he is, that would be unfairly easy for him to do. He’s not exactly eager to do it, but a Spider’s gotta do what a Spider’s gotta do. He’s a little convinced that Black Spider is unkillable, and would pop up at any second to try murdering him again. He did hit the guy with a slab of concrete and he got up with zero problem.
“Nope.” Dick refuses and stands up. “Neither you nor Little Wing are picking him up and exasperating your injuries further.”
He helps Peter to stand up as well, and then tucks Peter under his arm. Peter leans into his side for the support, but it’s also a little nice. And, well, now that the adrenaline of the day is wearing off… he’s really f*cking cold. It wasn’t his best and brightest idea to go out in a rain storm in the middle of fall in Gotham with no thermoregulation.
“Oooh, you want me to call a Super?” Babs is excited. Peter wonders what for. Does Super = Superman? “I hear Supergirl is back in town. And Superman.”
“There’s a Supergirl too?” Peter looks to Jason for an answer. “Where’s her wiki?”
“This is what you choose to focus on right now?” Jason crosses his arms, but winces when he remembers the previously-dislocated shoulder and chooses to just put one hand on his hip.
“Send Supergirl, if she’s not busy.” Dick answers, glancing at Peter.
“Superman got a wiki, but I heard jacksh*t about Superboy and Supergirl. That doesn’t seem fair at all.”
“When did you have time to check their wikis?” Dick asks.
Peter shivers when a rain drop in his hair travels down his neck. “When I first got here. You all were stupidly hard to find info on, but I read what I could.”
“That’s what you were doing at the library?”
“What did you think I was doing, playing CoolMath?”
“What is CoolMath?” Jason asks.
“What- What is CoolMath? You mean to ask me what is CoolMathGames.com? What kind of hell are you people living in?” Peter can not believe his ears. “I excused the weird popstars on your posters and forgave the lack of bodega cats- a merciful act on my part- but I’m drawing the line at CoolMath.”
“Odd hill to die on, but whatever floats your boat.”
“Jeez, kiddo, you’re freezing.” Dick rubs his hand on Peter’s arm, bringing him closer. “You’re shaking like a leaf even with your jacket on.”
Ah, Peter was hoping that would go unnoticed. Hug feels nice, though. It’s extremely warm because Dick’s suit has a heating system in it, and Peter, extremely cold, finds himself not caring if he looks clingy as he turns into the hug. “Hm. Strange.”
Dick purses his lips and looks to Jason for help, but Jason is looking down at Black Spider and lightly kicking his shoulder to check he’s still alive. Black Spider grunts in his sleep, and Jason kicks him again.
“Is this something you conveniently didn’t list about a minute or two ago when I asked you about your injuries?”
“Does this count as that?” Peter argues. “Because I forgot.”
“You forgot you’re freezing?”
“Yes. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we had a lot happen and I forgot about the tiny little thermoregulation issue.” Peter rests his cheek on Dick’s arm to avoid his questioning face, but alas, it’s right there and Peter is not blind. “Issue being that I don’t have it.”
“I’m putting this in your medical chart.”
“Red Robin and Spoiler warned me about this.” Peter declares. Dick is about to give Peter a clever reply, likely, when Babs speaks up.
“She’s on her way now. Wing… Have you discussed a certain New Topic with anyone besides your speedster?”
Dick sucks in a breath and then holds it for a second. Peter can almost feel the ‘oh sh*t’ moment he’s having. As the reason for the ‘oh sh*t’ (because let’s be real, Peter can tell when someone is talking about him in front of him), Peter wonders if there’s a reason Dick hadn’t apparently told anyone. Besides whoever this ‘speedster’ is.
“Ah. You know… I didn’t think to do that.”
Didn’t think?
“Of course you didn’t. We never do.” Babs laughs, and even to Peter it sounds like she’s reveling in someone’s misery. Namely, Dick’s misery. “I’m sure she’ll be delighted to find out you kept another important life event from her.”
“Like you’re any better.”
“I’m not, but it’s fun when it’s your problem and not mine.”
“What’s Supergirl like?” Peter latches onto this new distraction.
“Cooler than her cousin.” Jason retorts without looking up.
“Wow, I love a reference point that makes no sense to me at all.” Peter replies dryly. The back of his neck tingles and he reaches up one hand to calm himself. close coming fast near-
hello!
Wind whips past them and there’s a pop noise. Peter blinks at the blur in front of him, that turns distinctly not-blur-shaped at all.
His first impression is that Supergirl is beautiful, and no doubt strong. Peter almost tenses up because of it, his instinct to back away from something more powerful than him. But despite the strength that she exudes, it’s her smile that makes that strength seem more protective than offensive, and it makes Peter relax. It’s one of the kindest smiles he’s seen from someone. Her pretty blond hair is wind swept and a little wild from flying; he can smell the ozone on her the way he can with Tony sometimes. Her suit is red, gold, and blue with a signature S in a diamond on her chest. And, to Peter’s wonder, she’s another hero with a cape. He’s fairly certain that Thor would love it here.
More noticeably, she’s not wearing a mask at all. Her bright blue eyes are on full display, crinkled in her smile. There’s something about the blue that doesn’t look human, though. Just a little too blue to be natural, but not enough so that Peter could say that’s unnerving.
Cool…
“Thanks, Hood! You know how to flatter me.” She grins at him, then pauses and asks, “Are you covered in glitter?”
Jason waves her off without looking up. However, he’s grinning too. When Supergirl’s gaze wanders down to Black Spider, her eyebrows shoot up, and she purses her lips as if to hold back a ‘damn.’ Then, she looks over at Dick and Peter in the corner.
curious?
His spider sense tells him, as she looks at Dick first. She’s observant, too, not just strong. Peter sees her eyes flick around his figure and her smile falls into worry in a few seconds flat. Specifically, she’s not happy about the injury to his shoulder. Then, she looks right at Peter. That’s when curious turns into-
surprise?
“Oh my Rao!” Her eyes widen almost comically, jaw dropped. “…Hello. You look… really familiar.”
“I know, right?” Jason chuckles, clearly enjoying the way Dick is getting more nervous.
Supergirl takes a step forward, one hand on her chin and squinting at him as if to double check his face. Peter leans back a little bit, trying to figure out if the scrutiny is a bad thing or not. Supergirl’s eyes widen again and she instantly goes, “Sorry! Sorry, it’s just- You just- You look exactly like Nightwing when he was…”
“Getting warmerrrr.” Jason comments.
“Warmer to what?” Supergirl side eyes him. “What’s going on?”
Dick clears his throat, then hesitates. He squeezes Peter’s shoulder, and then decides, “We can’t tell real names here-”
“You had no problem with that a few minutes ago.” Peter comments.
“-but this is Spiderman.”
“Spider-Man.”
“Spider-Man, sorry.”
Supergirl watches the exchange carefully, eyes darting back and forth like it’s a tennis match.
“He’s my-”
Supergirl gasps loudly. “Do you have a clone!?”
“What? No, no no. I mean, we thought that, for a minute. But no.” Dick shakes his head. “Supergirl, meet my son.”
Peter, because he lacks a brain and finds the attention so damn awkward, throws up a peace sign. “Hi.”
Supergirl has nothing to say. Yet. She stands there with her jaw open and staring at Peter and Dick while she bluescreens. Jason has no such reservations. He bursts into laughter, pulling out a flip phone from his pocket. Peter is so stuck with his own horrified realization that Jason is holding an ancient relic, that he doesn’t realize he’s taking a picture until he’s already done so.
“I’m gonna compile these.” Jason says to himself. “I can not wait for the others to find out.”
“You what!?” Supergirl suddenly shouts, slapping her hands on either side of her face. Peter jumps at the noise a little, but can’t help but laugh. “You have a son!? Since when?”
“About a month now.” Peter chimes in, and Dick is definitely shooting him a ‘are you serious’ look right now. Supergirl’s eyes widen, and she takes a slow breath.
“A month.”
“We just found out!” Dick pleads his case. “Can we talk about this when we don’t have an enemy actively bleeding and twitching?”
“Oh, so now you think he needs medical attention.” Peter raises a brow at him.
“Choose kindness, Spidey.” Dick replies under his breath. Peter snorts at that, but finds it hard to focus with Supergirl watching them in shock. “…Supergirl? Supey?”
Supergirl blinks, coming back to where they are. She closes her eyes for a second to collect herself. “Right, right, of course. We’ll talk about this later.” Dick laughs like he’s in trouble. “Where am I taking this guy?”
“Blackgate Medical.”
That’s Bruce’s voice, not Babs. Peter looks up at Dick- the source of the comms, considering Peter turned his off- to find Dick is a little surprised to hear him as well. Supergirl tilts her head, also listening in. She doesn’t have a comm, and earlier, she had heard Jason before she even got here… So she’s strong and has enhanced hearing, too?
“I’ll meet you there.” He tells her. “Nightwing, Spider-Man, and Hood should report back to the Cave for medical assistance.”
“I-”
“Yep, already on it.” Dick interrupts Jason. Jason throws his head back with an annoyed huff.
“I can’t even tell someone to f*ck on in peace.”
“Thanks for this, Supergirl.” Dick ignores him. “I’ll call you, I swear. But we’ve had a really long night and we need to get back…”
“I get it, I get it.” Supergirl throws her hands up in surrender. “I’m a little peeved you didn’t tell me, but that’s just because this is a pretty big part of your life. But I get that this was also a pretty big part of your life that you needed time to process. I’ll be waiting on that call.” Then, she looks at Peter, and there’s a twinkle in her eye that matches her smile. “And I look forward to getting to know you, Spiderman.”
Peter is about to correct her. Really, he is. But the very open genuineness her voice holds and her very cool demeanor chucks that thought out of his brain instantly. Seriously, it’s like when he got to meet Thor for the first time and found out he’s a (complicated) ray of sunshine. So instead, he smiles back, and he says, “I do too!”
Supergirl leans over and, proving that Peter was right to assume she’s insanely strong, picks up Black Spider like he weighs nothing and a little less in her hands. Seriously, the guy is close to Jason’s height and he’s a hunk of muscle, and while Supergirl is also pretty damn muscular, it’s cool to see how deceptively strong she is. Black Spider groans in pain.
“Alright, I’ll see you later! Bye you three!”
And she’s gone in the blink of an eye.
Dick gives Peter a once over, and then decides on something. He turns around and leans down a little bit. “Hop up.”
“Hop up where?” Peter stares at him.
“Piggy back ride!” Dick says as if he’s already decided that’s the only way Peter is getting out of this damn mirror maze. Peter continues to stare, debating that if, at his big ass age of 14 years old, he wants to seriously consider trying a piggy back ride. Jason doesn’t stick around to see what they’re doing, already making his way out of the maze.
“Come on, it’s fun!” Dick attempts, excited.
The thing is… Peter’s never been on this side of a piggy back ride before. Uncle Ben and Aunt May were in their 50’s when they got him. They couldn’t lift him up a lot, not without hurting themselves accidentally.
He might have gotten one from his mom or dad, at some point, but he doesn’t remember that. And after Ben and May, he wasn’t close with any of his foster families like that. He might have been with Karen, Devon, and Chandler, but he didn’t get to find out. From then on, Peter would give piggy back rides, but he’s never been on this side of it. Like that little girl, Analetta, when he walked her and her mom home that one night.
“Are you sure?” Peter asks, and Dick raises a brow. “You’re also injured.”
“Pish posh.” Dick has a terrible fake British accent. “Nonsense. I’ve got this.”
Maybe it’s because Dick is acting like this is normal and not at all weird, but Peter reluctantly climbs onto his back, and Dick loops his hands under Peter’s legs. Dick’s smile is infectious, so Peter looks away before he gets too big of a smile on his own face.
“Next stop: Batcave!”
“You mean Batmobile? Or Batbike? Or Batcarriage? Something that is a Batvehicle?” Peter reminds him. “Unless you really plan to walk all the way back to the Batcave. We’ll be out until the next morning, if that’s the case.”
“I walk very fast.”
“For your age?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re like, ancient. So you should probably say ‘I walk very fast for my age.’ Just tack on that last part and you’re telling the truth.”
“Har-har-har, you’re hilarious.” Dick scoffs. “We’ll figure something out so my geriatric knees don’t deteriorate.”
“Sounds like a plan, old man.” Peter tries not to think too hard about calling him ‘old man’ since it’s a little close to something someone would use for a dad. Peter doesn’t know if he’s ready to call Dick ‘dad’ to his face. Kind of like how he only got the courage to refer to Tony as his father when he was in an alternate dimension and it had a very little chance of getting back to him and Peter dying of embarrassment.
Dick is happy about it though, if the way he looks back at Peter for a second and grins even wider means anything.
Admittedly, this piggy back ride thing is not as uncomfortable as Peter thought it was. He’s certainly trying not to squeeze the life out of Dick’s neck like little kids do, and Dick isn’t wincing, so on his end, it’s fine. But it’s also comfortable for Peter. He doesn’t think Dick is about to drop him any time soon, and the hold is warm and secure. Plus, not standing after the fight he just had feels great. He didn’t notice how tired he was until this very second.
He puts his cheek on Dick’s shoulder as he walks and closes his eyes. He’s in a little too much pain to fall asleep, but it’s still nice.
-
Kon is laying on her couch when Kara gets home, which isn’t an unusual sight, because he lives with her. Has lived with her, for a while now. And despite the fact that he’s not supposed to be eating on her couch ever since she found out that ants are vindictive little creatures, he is. He’s shoveling a handful of those snow cap chocolate things in his mouth with little care about crumbs and watching that show about those robot lions in space. He’s also wearing a sweatshirt she stole from Clark the last time she was over at his and Lois’ place.
But the crumbs and the sweatshirt stealing are both not important right now. In fact, Kara could not care less about it. She will care later when she’s forced to clean out her entire couch to make sure Kon hadn’t attracted more ants, but right now, her dazed mind is still trying to keep up with the carbon-copy of the Boy Wonder that she had met, and the confusion that came with it.
Like, Kara remembers meeting Dick when he was still Robin. He was sharp smiles and mysterious circ*mstances. And Spiderman looks just like him- though Kara will admit that she’d never seen Dick with fangs? Or blood all over his mouth. Except that one time that he bit the Riddler and sent her a picture in the mail to show off how ‘badass’ he looked afterwards.
Okay, maybe the kid looked exactly like Dick, actually, now that she’s thinking back on that instance. She had been convinced that Dick and Bruce were both secretly vampires. That had been before she learned their secret identities, but it also persisted afterwards, too.
This is more evidence that Dick might be a vampire and is still hiding this fact from them even though they have asked so many times. The kid had fangs! That is a distinctly not-human trait.
…And he had that same sharp smile that Dick has. Sure, the color of his hair is different and he’s wearing a different suit, but still… It was like a mini Boy Wonder was standing there.
To find out that Dick just… has a son? Out of nowhere? She can bet that Wally knows about it, because he always knows their sh*t first… This is just too much- it’s a lot to keep up with. She thought she had a handle on how weird the Bats get. She thought it’d be at least another few years until she became an aunt.
Oh, sh*t, she’s an aunt now.
“Hey, Kara.” Kon yawns loudly, not bothering to sit up to look at her. “I thought you said you’d be back about an hour ago? Clark and Lois hold you up?”
“Something came up.” Kara walks over to her kitchen and starts digging around for something to eat. She needs food if she wants to get her mind back straight. When’s the last time she ate? Some weird bowl of goo on that alien planet… “The Bats called, so I stopped in Gotham to help out”
That catches Kon’s attention. He pauses the show and sits up, head tilted and eyes narrowed in suspicion as he gauges her demeanor. He doesn’t find what he’s looking for.“…How bad was it? Tim didn’t call for me.”
Kara politely chooses not to point out that Kon’s first reaction was about Tim, because if she makes a joke, he’s going to call her an evil jerk again.
It’s a rightful reaction to have. The Bats don’t call for their help inside Gotham unless it’s a sh*tshow of epic proportions. Bruce is very cagey about them ‘messing with Gotham’ and how they ‘don’t know the city’ like the Bats do. (And he’s right, because Kara doesn’t understand them or their villains at all.) He was like that when Kara brought that Black Spider guy to Blackgate Medical, and she shouldn’t have been surprised. He met her there with his perpetual sourface like this was any other day, and he basically ignored her except to utter a ‘thank you’ when she was about to leave.
She herself had thought, when Babs said they needed her help, that maybe the storm had caused damage that needed a super to fix it. Maybe civilians were trapped somewhere, or maybe one of the Bats had gotten hurt. She certainly hadn’t expected a simple job as transporting a villain to a hospital. And meeting her friend’s secret son.
“Not… bad. They had a storm and… y’know what?” She decides right then and there that she is too tired, and too hungry, and too confused to be the one who relays this story. “You should call Tim about it.”
Kara takes out a pizza box from the fridge and sets it on the counter. Kon’s brow furrows in confusion.
“Why?”
“Just… I don’t know all the details either, and I’m confused enough that I don’t know what to tell you. Apparently, glitter was involved. And not-cloning.”
“Did you eat a weird plant you weren’t supposed to while on that mission with Clark?” Kon asks. “I won’t snitch, you can tell me.”
It’s as Kara is looking at Kon and his flabbergasted state that it hits her.
Kara hadn’t known about Dick having a son, but no one else had, either. And Bruce was cagey, but would he have been so cagey as to not even explain who she was transporting, if he didn’t feel at least a little guilty about something? S
he might not know anything about Bruce, because really, it’s Bruce. But she can slightly tell the difference between his silences, sometimes, after all these years. Almost always, the silence where he doesn’t say anything is because he had some type of information he wasn’t telling them and they just found out.
She also recalls a few months ago where Bruce keeping information to himself led to her finding out that stupid Condiment King guy had traveled to National city for some type of convention he didn’t approve of. Suddenly, the Supers were deemed fit to deal with a Gotham villain all on their own with zero interference from them.
Kon is checking his phone with a deep frown when Kara pulls out her own. “I don’t have any new messages either. What’s so crazy that Tim wouldn’t tell me about it?”
She’s clicking the contact before she can think about it too hard.
“Kara?” Clark picks up on the third ring. Kon’s head snaps up to look at her like she grew a third eye.
Clark sounds tired, and she doesn’t blame him. They both just got back from space. He’s probably already in bed, considering Kara is an hour behind on her own schedule now. She hears Lois snoring in the background and is glad she hadn’t woken her up.
“What is it?”
“Bruce is a grandpa.” She tells him, and Clark goes silent. “You should go find him at Blackgate and congratulate him.”
And thus, she hangs up the call with her revenge so final, recalling the inhumane amount of mayo and ranch she had to get out of her hair. And she knows that sicking Clark on Bruce is a good, harmless revenge, that she can sleep peacefully at night for having done.
Kon’s jaw has dropped and he’s sitting up, now wide awake. Yeah, that’s exactly how Kara felt.
“Bruce is what?” He presses, but Kara is busy heating up her pizza. When he doesn’t receive an answer, he mutters, “I gotta call Tim.”
-
Blackgate Medical center is always calm and still around this time of night. Unless, of course, all hell broke loose. But typically it has not. Bruce usually appreciates that; because after an eventful night or mission, the last thing he needs is a headache from prisoners giving them all a taste of their resentment and angst. He usually prefers to sit down after a long battle and go over everything in his mind, letting the quiet be his companion.
Tonight, however, the quiet is both a relief and a burden on him.
Bruce sits not in a waiting room but in one of the residents’ break rooms. He has a cup of truly terrible coffee in front of him but he hasn’t drank more than a sip of it yet. His arms are crossed, and he’s trying to relax after the events of the evening. He really is. But the silence that is great news for his impending headache is also a torture, because it leaves him stewing in his thoughts.
Historically, Bruce makes bad decisions when he’s left to his own thoughts. This time, it’s not a bad decision that’s threatening to ruin something, but the stress and paranoia that looms overhead.
It’d been a while since they had something this intense happen while they were on a patrol, not counting Harvey and that train. (And Peter.) No, the type of issue he’s talking about that has been a while, is Bruce not being able to get to his kids in order to help them with the issue.
He hates when that happens.
Only being able to listen in on the fragments he could get from Barbara, not being physically present with them so he can have all of the information at once, not being able to keep them out of harm’s way? He was living his worst nightmare, and it had frayed his nerves all night- worse still, it had split his attention dangerously. Damian, much the same, had been demanding every five minutes for Barbara to keep them updated. Bruce couldn’t bring himself to correct Damian. His insistence got to the point where she had told them both (as if she had known that Bruce hadn’t told him to stop) that she would contact them first if she had news, and to stop calling her.
Damian had taken issue with that, but at least he vented out his frustrations by angrily helping people rather than saying something to Barbara about it. That would have led to another instance where they all lost their minds under Barbara’s blackmail. Bruce would like to know exactly what she has, but that was not the time.
Between the storm, the bridge collapse, and the distance, Bruce wasn’t much help. He was forced to hang back and take care of what he could, and that meant taking care of the civilians that needed his immediate help. He doesn’t regret being able to help them, but he does wish that he hadn’t had to make that choice. Having to place trust in his children’s abilities to take care of the problem with only a second hand ability to contact them until all was said and done is not the way Bruce would have chosen to handle it.
He’s… tired.
He’s tired enough that he’s finding it hard to talk to any of the nurses and doctors, though he does try. Despite feeling like he’d rather rip his own vocal chords out than have conversation, Bruce managed just fine to talk to the doctors. He’s been kept in the loop about Black Spider- or, as he’s now been identified, Eric Needham’s- condition for the last four hours.
Eric Needham, as Bruce learned, is a tragic case of another soul lost to Gotham’s cycle of people needing help and not having the time to get it.
His father was absent and his mother was an alcoholic who ended up dying during a Scarecrow breakout when Eric was 14 years old. He’d been a cute kid, a gap in his teeth that he wasn’t insecure about, because he smiled wide in every picture he was in. He liked to sing and play the guitar, and before his mother passed, she’d been teaching him the piano.
He was in and out of foster homes after her death, and by extension, he became a high school dropout at 16. Which was a shame, because he was smart. He was projected to be the valedictorian of his school, he had a perfect GPA and there was already talk of multiple scholarships he’d get when he graduated.
He disappeared off the map until his 18th birthday, but Bruce believes there might have been a few home robberies that he could have been involved in. When he resurfaced, Eric had become addicted to drugs, but he was trying to get clean because he had a son and a girlfriend. He was a year sober when his two year old son was killed during a bank robbery.
After that, his life fell apart in more ways than one.
He got back on drugs, he split up with his girlfriend, he lost his house and his car, he was getting arrested nearly every other week. He made frequent visits to the cemetery that his son was buried in, and afterwards, he’d lose himself again.
The grief consumed him to a point where he was almost unrecognizable to the smiling 13 year old in the picture with his mother.
At 20 years old, Eric Needham was the suspect in a shooting at a convenience store. The police believed that Eric had intended to kill the man on purpose, but during the interrogation, Eric, who was already broken apart about killing a stranger, became incomprehensible when he learned that the man he killed was his father.
There was a mass breakout at New Town prison exactly one month after Eric had gotten there. He was the sole prisoner that they hadn’t managed to track down and bring back to the prison.
It looks like he was with the League of Assassins for the last three years. This would have meant he had just missed Jason’s time with the League, and explains why Jason mentioned that Eric had known about it. It will take some talking, but Bruce might just be able to find out why Eric came back to Gotham, and what his purpose is.
Eric’s condition is… stable, right now. But he hadn’t exactly been that way when he was first brought in. Bruce had been deeply concerned when he learned just what had happened during that fight, and until the tests were run, he worried that Peter might have accidentally killed Eric.
He had blunt force trauma to the head and his ribs, a gunshot wound to his hip that they had to get the bullet out of, a bite to the hand that had broken the bones in his pointer finger and thumb, pincher marks from Peter’s( apparently new) fangs and regular teeth marks from the nasty bite that had nearly torn completely through the meat of his hand, an unknown spider venom in his system, and then he was electrocuted.
All of that listed out on the charts told a story of an intense battle, and when Bruce got a listed report from Alfred of the injuries on his kids…
He has to say, he’s pretty impressed. From the way Peter talks, he doesn’t sound like he has experience fighting with people that have matched his strength, or got anywhere near it. And yet, he came out the winner in this fight with a man that is clearly their world’s variant of a “Spider” like Peter.
Because that’s what Eric is.
He might not be Peter, but there’s some parallels in their lives. The fact that they both picked up the identity of the spider is one thing. But the venom is what told Bruce all he needed to know.
Alfred and Tim had run a sample of Peter’s blood and the venom that Eric had injected into his system. Peter had described the fight as best he could, with as tired as he was. “Spider’s Sting” is what Black Spider had called this venom. Looking at Eric and Peter’s charts, the venom is nearly the exact same.
Nearly, being the key word here.
From a first glance, the venom formula looks identical in their makeup. But the one that had been injected into Peter was man made, and the one that was in Eric’s was not.
It was all biological, and much more intense than the chemical formula. What would have killed a normal person had been processed through Peter’s system quickly and efficiently. It had been treated like a virus in his body, but it was close enough that it just… had no effect on Peter.
Eric, on the other hand, would have died if he had not been rushed to the hospital, nor if he had not seemingly built up a tolerance to his own chemical formula.
The puncture site had already started to rot when he got to the hospital, and he was no longer bleeding from his hand. He grew paler and paler by the minute, his skin was burning to the touch. It was similar to what was described from Ohnn’s venom, but was more fast-acting. What had started out as a mild pain became intense enough that they had to strap Eric down so that he wouldn’t tear at the injection site to get it to stop.
They had to flush his system with everything they had, and based on Eric’s own chemical formula, they were able to create a first version of an antivenom shot that stalled the bite. At this current moment, they’re still figuring out what to do about creating a second version, but they would have to have access to the tests run by Alfred and Tim at the Cave.
Which is why Bruce is the one taking care of creating the antivenom shot, not the doctors.
They’re… included in the process. But Bruce would rather be the one to do this.
Not because the thought of anyone getting their hands on Peter’s personal medical file makes Bruce feel frozen, but because he has the equipment and the knowledge, and it’s just a security risk. Blackgate doctors are incredible meta and mutant doctors, but Bruce never knows if one of them has decided to change sides.
All of this brings up a curious issue that nags at Bruce. The more he thinks about it, the more it starts to make sense.
At first, Tim had listed potential reasons for Peter’s new mutation in the chart. The chemical formula causing the mutation makes sense, but only if one doesn’t think too far into it. If that was the case, then wouldn’t others who have encountered the Spider’s Sting have also had a mutation before? Or was it just because Peter was already a spider, and this venom is so much like his own, that it caused another mutation, or one that was underlying?
The answer is that this isn’t the case at all. The venom had broken down and was eaten away by Peter’s immune system within an hour. It was a chemical version that should have killed him, but didn’t, because Peter was the biological version of the fake spider that Black Spider had created. It was like he was injected with his own venom- no, an inferior version of it.
Bruce contacted Tim to do something for him, and an hour later, he had received the dental scans he needed.
Peter always had fangs. Or, well, always had them from the start of his mutation.
The shape of his upper jaw had conformed to the new additions, and from what Bruce could see, they had been there for years. Likely because Peter was a juvenile, they hadn’t really made an appearance. Or, it was because Peter had never felt scared enough to need that instinct.
Spiders don’t typically bite until they’re cornered and have no other option.
And in this case, Peter hadn’t been given one.
Barbara, Tim, Stephanie, and Cass had given him the run down of details to the best of their ability in between the work that they’d all been doing. Jason, Dick, and Peter are asleep now back in the medical center in the Cave, and from what Bruce had heard, they needed it. Before they fell asleep though, they had told the others as much as they could about what happened, and filled in the gaps that were missing. From there, they had relayed that information to Bruce.
It paints a picture that Bruce would like to throw in a fire.
There were three League of Assassin heavy hitters in Gotham, taking orders from a new rogue calling himself “Mysterio.” Which means that Ra’s Al Ghul was stepping over the line and attempting to get involved in Gotham once more. He hadn’t done this since he, from what Bruce heard, had attacked Tim and Wayne Enterprises. And they hadn’t known about it until tonight.
Anytime the LoA is involved, Bruce gets anxious. It’s the same feeling as when Bruce found out that Dick was training with an assassin behind his back, when he found out that Jason was taken by them when he resurrected, when he found out about Damian, when he learned about Cass and her past, when he figured out that Tim wasn’t telling him everything about what happened in that year Bruce was in the time stream- there’s more instances that he can’t even name.
Bruce really, really dislikes the LoA.
This time, the LoA are involved with someone that is trying to hurt Peter. Because that’s-
Footsteps stop in the doorway, and a swoosh of a cape interrupts his thoughts. Bruce hadn’t realized he was tapping his finger on the table until he was back in reality.
He knew that he’d be seeing Clark the second that Kara got involved. He knew that she was still annoyed about Condiment King, and that she would view this as a harmless revenge.
And it is. As much as Bruce runs through the potential consequences of the others knowing about Peter- about how Peter could be hurt or overwhelmed by them, or how introducing Peter as a part of their family when the kid isn’t ready might scare him off, or about how Peter is going to go back home after getting close to all of them…
As much as Bruce worries, he knows that Clark knowing about Peter is just going to be a pain in the ass to explain, and that’s mostly the reason he hadn’t discussed it with him yet.
Especially when it’s 4AM and he’s not only been through a literal storm, but he’s been attempting to create an antivenom with very little information to go on about the original genetic makeup that he needs to figure it out, and coming to conclusions about the plans the rogues have behind the scenes, all while drinking terrible, terrible coffee.
Clark looks like he’s been up for days on end. His hair is not the polished clean look that he prefers to have when dressed in his suit, and his cape is tangled up behind him like he’s thrown it on the floor and then put it back on. It’s been a month since he’d last been on Earth, and while the man probably would have liked to spend his homecoming with Lois or with his children, he’s here.
Not to say that Clark is angry. No, Clark has a look in his eyes that says ‘excitement.’
Give him strength. Kara definitely hadn’t made this easy on him.
“Batman,” Clark puts his hands on his hips with a deep breath. Eyebrows raised up high, the echo of many a conversation like this before sitting between them. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
“No.”
“Really?” Clark steps into the room and closes the door behind him. He makes his way over the table and sits directly next to Bruce, even though there are plenty of chairs at the table. “You have nothing to tell me? Nothing at all?
Bruce doesn’t reply. Instead, he picks up his terrible coffee and takes a long sip. Clark waits him out, staring so intensely into the side of his face that Bruce wonders if Clark’s heat vision now has an incognito mode.
“Do you have something to say?” Bruce asks.
“Don’t you start with me.” Clark runs a hand through his hair. But he gives in anyway, so Bruce feels like he won something. “Supergirl called me, and I was about half asleep, so I didn’t really understand for about an hour what she said. I thought I dreamed it, actually.”
Bruce leans back in his chair to observe Clark as the man rambles. “Hm.”
“But it took Jon getting up to get a cup of water and noticing I was home and actually tackling me so hard we broke the wall that I realized I wasn’t, in fact, dreaming, and that she actually had called me. You wanna know what she told me?”
“How are you going to patch the wall before Lois wakes up if you’re here?’
“She said you’re a grandfather.”
“Hm.”
“So, hypothetically speaking, if you suddenly became a grandfather… are we or are we not currently at a time of our lives where that is the sort of thing we pick up a phone and call each other about?”
“You’ve been away.” Bruce sets down his coffee, crossing his legs, and then decides that it’s not the best look and halts the motion halfway, setting his foot down on the ground. “Last I checked, cellphone service is spotty in other galaxies.”
“As if we don’t have the technology for you to call me another way?”
Bruce clicks his tongue, and Clark sets one hand on the table, leaning to look at Bruce more closely. That damned grin tells Bruce that he is not, in fact, winning the interaction like he had hoped to do.
“So, is it true?” He presses. “Are you a grandpa?”
And so… Bruce gives up. He lets go of this one fight, just because there’s no way he’s keeping it a secret this time. There’s worse enemies out there right now to deal with (like whoever made this coffee pot) and Clark knows how to keep a secret. He’ll understand that this is a sensitive topic right now.
Besides that, Bruce would like to talk about Peter with someone that isn’t his kids. They keep making comments that insinuate they believe he wants to steal Peter out from under Dick. Which is not the case.
Bruce has enough kids. It’s not the end of the world to become a grandfather. He doesn’t have to do the raising, and all of Peter’s angst is directed at Dick, not him, at the moment. With as sarcastic and rebellious as the kid had been so far, they’re now at a point where Peter enjoys his company and doesn’t make jokes to purposefully put Bruce on edge.
It’s nice. Why would he mess up that dynamic when it’s working?
“Yes, it’s true.”
Clark’s curious grin turns into a beaming smile, unfortunately. He pats Bruce’s shoulder a little too hard in his excitement and gushes, “Congratulations! This is amazing news! I thought we still had a while before then! Maybe I shouldn’t have, because Flash, you know, with his whole thing. But this is- this is wonderful!”
“It is.” Bruce isn’t going to argue that, because he doesn’t need to. As strange as the situation is, Bruce is glad to have met Peter, to get to know him. Even if it comes with an expiration date that they don’t know yet.
“Well, who’s is it? No- there’s- there’s only a couple options. Nightwing? Hood’s? Both are adults now… It was just yesterday they were knee high and Nightwing was trying to murder men and Hood was walking around with that pocket book of Dad jokes… What was I saying? Oh, right. Which one?”
“Nightwing.”
“Nightwing!” Clark leans back like he hadn’t just reasoned that answer and it’s so surprising. “I can’t believe it! He’s old enough to be a father. We’re getting old, Batman, that’s insane! Man, to think that Nightwing is a dad… he’s going to be so good at that, I think. I can’t wait to meet the kid! How long has he known? How long have you known? Knowing your family, the kid is already here.”
Bruce is not as serious as most people believe him to be, but don’t tell his kids. Don’t tell Peter, either. He knows a good opportunity for a joke when he sees it.
“A little over a month.”
“A little over a month old? Or a little over a month that you’ve known?”
“That we’ve known.”
“So the baby ain’t here yet.” Clark sighs, but it’s a mixed reaction. He’s still quite happy with the news.
“It is.”
Clark blinks at him. “Is… this like, another, uh, Robin situation?” Bruce raises a brow and Clark is already clarifying, “I mean, not stealing a child and putting them in a costume. I meant current Robin, how you found out.”
“No, it is not like that.”
The other man stares at him for a moment, then narrows his eyes. “You’re messing with me somehow.”
“Am I?”
“Batman-”
“He’s 14 years old.” Bruce clarifies, finally.
“Oh, dear, so it is another stealing a child situation. I can’t believe you passed that down non-genetically.”
“No, it is not like that, and you should stop calling it ‘stealing.’ I only stole one.” Bruce thinks that people forget that Tim broke into his house and yelled at him, Stephanie made her own costume and then broke into his house and yelled at him, and Damian was dropped off. Jason was technically stealing but it was also technically not.
“If it’s not like that, then what was it? Time travel? Clone? Adopted legally?”
“He’s from an alternate universe.” Bruce admits. “He’s Nightwing’s, but from that universe’s counterpart of him. He’s also a vigilante, called Spider-Man.”
“Wow, that’s… a new one. I think, anyway. There’s so much that happens on a regular basis that I can’t be too sure.” Clark takes it in easy stride. He claps his hands together and then pauses, drifting into thought. Bruce lets him do so, knowing that he needed more than a minute to fully wrap his head around it. “So… Hold on. What’s the situation, then?”
“Complicated.” Bruce tells him. Everything is complicated, and only now is Bruce starting to see a disturbing view on the horizon, with the LoA and this Mysterio. “It’s a tough one.”
“You hadn’t told anyone for a reason.” Clark states, but mostly as a way to think out loud. His eyes turn on Bruce, curious, but with a sad furrow in his brow. He must already know why. “How come?” He asks anyway.
“He’ll be going home at some point.” He hates to say it, because of the obvious. But it’s the truth, even if Bruce wants it to be otherwise. “That’s what he wants.”
“But you don’t want that.” Clark points out. Clever, isn’t he?
“No, I don’t.” Bruce takes a sip of that terrible coffee again. He hadn’t said as much out loud, but he doesn’t like the idea. At all. “I am not fond of what I learn about this alternate universe or the people that take care of him there. If it were up to me, he’d stay. He fits right in with the family like he’d always been there. Robin, even, enjoys his company easily.” Clark’s brows raise in surprise at that. “Everyone is fond of him, but most especially Nightwing. For obvious reasons. But he wants to go home, and we can’t stop him from doing that. It would be far too selfish of us to try.”
Clark is quiet for a few moments, really thinking it all over. Bruce does too.
It’s not that he hates those other heroes, like Tony. He’s sure they are good people, if Peter has so much faith in them. If he’d been so willing to call Tony his father. The way he talks about them all is like they’re truly family to him, but often times, there’s an undertone like he believes they don’t see him the same. Which, considering what he’s told them about how he came to be in Tony’s care, is probably not the case and is just an insecurity.
Bruce disapproves of what he’s learned about Tony in the other aspects. He disapproves of this “SHIELD” that Peter has spoken about in passing. He doesn’t like the fact that Peter must have been on his own for a very long time. Bruce isn’t fond of it, but all of those reasons are covering up the real one: that Bruce doesn’t like this alternate universe because it means Peter will go back, and they won’t see him again.
Finally, Clark speaks. He smiles gently, but his tone is more towards the friendly teasing they give each other to lighten a burden. “Wow, you’re giving him an option? That’s unlike you, Batman. You really are a soft grandpa, aren’t you?”
“Shut up.”
-
When they got back to the Batcave last night, Alfred had scolded them so severely about them being “reckless fools” that Peter felt like he had actually killed someone.
He would have totally not cried about it, but Alfred was really gentle with how he treated their wounds despite the fussing, so Peter figures it might have just been the worry he had when he had woken up and found out that crazy sh*t went down.
Their injuries were “severe enough” that Alfred put them on bed rest in the medical bay in the Cave and gave them a stern look when Jason implied he would leave. Which meant that they slept down there together in one room like a sleepover rather than up in their rooms in the manor. Peter had his own cot closest to the door that he could have slept on, but he preferred to sit with Dick on the cot in the middle and talk. He was pretty tired, but it wasn’t until about an hour and a half later that he finally knocked out.
They fell asleep somewhere in the middle of talking about the differences in cooking shows between their worlds, Jason snoring on his own cot. It was peaceful, and the lights were dimmed down enough that Peter’s senses thanked whoever had the forethought to put them that way. He ended up with a crick in his neck from sleeping on Dick’s shoulder, but it’s still the best sleep he’s gotten since getting to this universe. Maybe ever since Ben passed away.
He was glad that he did, because when he woke up, he was immediately pestered by the people who actually got a decent amount of sleep with minimal injuries.
Damian was first. He climbed up in the cot on Dick’s other side and pretended that it was just how he has to wake Dick up. He had brought down breakfast for them both, some kind of oatmeal? Peter wasn’t really paying attention to that part because his everything hurt. Dick had to hold his hand on Peter’s forehead to keep his head up so it wouldn’t fall in his oatmeal.
The other boy had scoffed at that and reminded Peter he was old enough to know how to be awake while eating. Peter had been awake enough to fling oatmeal at him.
Alfred came next. He tried waking Jason up and then deemed that a lost cause, so he went around checking on their wounds and remaking the cots and stuff like that while keeping them quiet while Jason slept. It didn’t work all that much because Tim and Duke arrived and Tim immediately made a beeline for Peter, holding up vials that Peter, still barely awake, narrowed his eyes at.
Conclusion: Peter is not a fan of the new fangs.
Under any other circ*mstance, they’d probably be cool. Sick as hell, even. They make him look like a vampire- sort of- and not even in the Twilight way, which is bad ass.
Tim had taken a picture of him last night and Duke was looking at it now. Peter thinks it should be an album cover. He’s wearing his new jacket and is fresh out of a fight, covered in blood. Some of it’s his own blood, some of it is Black Spider’s. All of it looks pretty f*cking cool with the back light of a lamp behind Peter while he’s sitting on the medical table, showing the fangs to Alfred, who is just a pair of gloves in the picture.
But he’d like them more if everyone wasn’t hovering around him, trying to see them better. Or, in this case, trying to sample the venom.
“Watch your fingers, Timmy, he might get you too.” Duke comments, like an ass, and Peter can’t even glare at him properly. Duke, sensing he’s not finding it funny, beams with pride. “Those big ol’ chompers can take them clean off.”
Tim chuckles under his breath, but finds it less funny when Peter glares at him. He winces a little and focuses on what he’s doing.
Peter once saw the way they take samples of snake venom and he thought ‘That’s weird’ and thought nothing more of it. Because when would that ever apply to him? He should have known better, he thinks. Right now, Tim has gotten Peter to stick a fang into the vial and Peter is doing his best to get enough venom in it that they could get a sample.
Pincers, fangs, whatever. He doesn’t know what to call them, so he’s been calling them fangs. They have qualities of pincers, but they look more like fangs because it’s still Peter’s teeth. They aren’t on the side of his mouth like pincers would possibly be, and that’s a small mercy. Peter has embraced being more spider-like, but he would find it hard to embrace his face getting more eyeballs or pincers growing from his jaw.
It’s probably worse because Peter doesn’t like the way the fangs feel in his mouth. They learned last night that he can, in fact, put them back into place. Not on will, no, because it can’t be easy. Tim said that it’d likely take some practice to figure that out. At the moment, Peter has to place his fingers at the base of his teeth and physically push them back in.
(It wasn’t until he looked in a mirror afterwards and saw his regular teeth that it hit him that they looked like his normal teeth. If they’d been there since the mutation, Peter hadn’t even noticed that his canines are a little sharper than they should be.)
And in order to get them out, it’s sort of the same motion. Peter has to press at the back of his gums and wince at how his teeth shift around to let the fangs out.
Peter is sitting on the side of the cot right now, Dick laying down behind him. Damian is sitting on Peter’s right side, and Tim has a vial stuck on Peter’s left fang. Duke is sitting in a chair next to Tim, watching the scene while grimacing, but unable to look away, like it’s a horror movie.
All of them. Hovering.
It’s driving Peter crazy, he thinks. He just woke up and now everyone is trying to get answers. It’s too early in the morning for answers. (The clock on the wall that says 12:34PM argues that it’s not, but what does it know?)
Dick has his arms crossed, leaning over to watch, face screwed up with discomfort. He had offered his hand silently when he saw Peter freeze when Tim suggested the vial to get the venom, but Peter is not a little kid, so he didn’t take it. However, he did make sure Dick wasn’t going anywhere before agreeing to do this.
“How much of the venom do you even need?” Dick asks. Peter can’t see the vial from here, but Tim is starting to seem satisfied with the amount of apparently deadly venom that’s in it, so it’s probably enough by now.
(Another reason Peter’s finding it hard to like the fangs? Black Spider is in the hospital, and Peter had put him there. And they almost had to amputate his hand to stop the spread of the venom.
That’s sort of why he’s sucking it up and doing this at all. Even if Peter hates hospitals and needles ((he thinks his blood should stay in his body, because he’s soooo weird like that)), and he hates experiments surrounding his body even more ((thank the trauma for that)), he knows that he needs to do this if Black Spider is going to get a proper antivenom.)
“We’re all done now!” Tim is oddly cheerful. With the way he smiles at Peter, it’s likely to put him at ease, but he thinks Tim should never do that ever because it’s not like him, so it has the opposite effect. “Okay, I’m gonna take the vial off. Might feel weird.”
“us ucki o i.”
“I have not a clue what you just said, but I’m assuming it was rude.” Tim sighs dramatically. He was right, of course. If Peter hadn’t a vial in his mouth it would have sounded ten times more appropriately dignified, thank you very much.
As soon as the vial is off, Peter closes his mouth and touches the fang, trying to rid the sensation off of his teeth and not succeeding. He’d be so extremely, immensely, gratefully, happy if they never ever have to do this sh*t again. The sort of rubber feeling on his tooth is the worst sensation Peter has ever had and he once cried so hard he threw up because he touched a sherpa blanket.
Dick leans back on the cot and smooths back Peter’s hair, raising a brow in question. Peter nods, leaning back to sit shoulder to shoulder with him.
“You sure?” Dick asks. Tim is looking at the vial in the light of a lamp, and Damian and Duke are hovering over his shoulder now. When Peter looks closer at it, he can see a rainbow-type film over the clear liquid.
He catches Dick’s eye again. He doesn’t believe that Peter is fine.
“I got struck by lightning. I think I can handle being a little uncomfortable for a minute.”
Dick purses his lip, not liking that joke at all. Too bad, because Peter thinks it’s the funniest ever and he’s not gonna stop making jokes about it.
They didn’t actually get struck by lightning, the pole did, but it was close enough that they were affected by it. Apparently- and Peter does not remember this- he had pushed Jason out of the way of the pole when it came crashing down. He got that head injury, but he lived because of it.
“If you say so. At least it’s over now.” Dick puts an arm around his shoulder and squeezes.
“Peter,” Tim interrupts, almost distracted.
He has his phone out, thumb hovering over Bruce’s contact. He looks away from the vial and at Peter, other finger tapping on the table in careful consideration. It makes Peter feel inspected, and he shifts awkwardly under his gaze. Tim’s faces softens and he stops tapping, sending him another grin meant to comfort him. This time, however, it’s doesn’t quite reach what he intended for. It’s clear he’s got something on his mind.
“Sorry, it’s just… this venom, it’s kind of weird. You know, usually, spider venom is either necrotic or neurotic. But yours has qualities of both, and I’ve just- I’ve never seen that before, you know?” And oh, here it comes.
Peter almost closes his eyes to prepare himself for it. Instead, he holds his breath.
“What kind of spider was it, that bit you?”
-
“It’s gonna be okay, Peter,” He breathes out and it comes out like a panicked sob. Peter stares at the corpse of the spider on the ground and as the venom spreads through his arm, he doesn’t believe him. “You’re gonna be just fine. I’ll- I’ll fix this.”
-
Peter had avoided talking about it this long.
(He doesn’t even like to think about it.)
He lifts one hand to the back of his neck, a nervous habit, and then he forces himself to set the hand back down. In his peripherals, Dick is staring at the scar on the back of his neck. It’s sort of like he’s a bug under a microscope with no way out, just trying to survive by prolonging the inevitable. All of the detectives in the room sense that he’s gotten uncomfortable.
This part is important, because it will help them create the antivenom if they have something to go on. But he does not want to answer more questions about that if he can help it.
(He doesn’t even like to think about it.)
He knows they’ve been trying not to ask because they think Peter is a flight risk. (…He can’t blame them for thinking that.) Bruce and Tim especially, and hell, Damian too. The rest of them seem to understand a certain level of ‘move on’ when the questioning gets too intense, probably because they’re the same. But Bruce, Tim, and Damian just want to know things, and Peter has seen Damian literally bite his tongue to avoid Dinner Conversation 2.0 Disaster.
Now comes the uncomfortable part.
Whatever keeps Black Spider from dying…
(But Peter doesn’t even like to think about it.)
“It was called the Latrodectus Oscorpeus.”
“Huh.” Something clicks for Tim.
But he’s gonna have to.
Tim clicks on Bruce’s contact and calls him. He picks up on the first ring, but Peter’s attention is pulled from the call when Damian turns to him, brows furrowed curiously.
“Latrodectus is from the Black Widow name, isn’t it?” He frowns when Peter nods, having to mull it over another moment. “…I haven’t heard of Oscorpeus.”
“It’s the lame part of the name.” Peter grins, hoping he comes off more relaxed than he is. “It was genetically modified, remember? It was one of a kind; it only existed at OSCORP.”
“Wait wait wait.” Tim holds up his hand. He’s set his phone on the table, and Bruce is quiet on the other end. “You’ve mentioned OSCORP before. When you were clarifying some stuff for us, you said that Tony’s biggest suspect was ‘a company called OSCORP.’”
Peter… had said that, hadn’t he…
It’s not like he was keeping it a secret, that part. It just hadn’t come up in conversation, with all of the other stuff they had to worry about. But now that he’s thinking back on it… Peter never told them that OSCORP was directly involved in Peter getting bit by the spider. Then again, he had barely mentioned it to Tony in the first place.
He doesn’t like to-
“I thought you said they were a tech company?” Duke leans back in his seat, glancing at the vial again.
“They are.” Peter says, because that isn’t a lie. “They just also do bio engineering.”
“Okay, you need to explain that a little more. You’re telling me that the spider that bit you is from this company, and that it was Tony’s number one suspect for who’s behind this whole ‘kidnapping and alternate dimensions’ thing. So…” Tim sits down in a chair facing him.
“So what…?” It comes out a little more defensive than he meant it to, and Tim regards him like he’s a dog that needs coaxing out of a kennel. Peter leans so he’s no longer sitting back, feigning nonchalance. He criss crosses his legs and attempts not to feel like he’s being interrogated, but with the way everyone is looking at him, it sure f*cking feels like it.
“Can you explain how you got bit?” Tim asks, not unkindly. He’s leaning towards Peter, hands folded in front of him with his elbows on his knees.
There comes a point where the more scientific of the people who know about Peter’s powers ask the question. Tony had asked, but in the middle of a conversation, trying to make it a light subject. It hadn’t gone over well, and they hadn’t talked about it again. Dr. Banner had asked him, and Peter had shut down the line of questioning fast. His therapist asked him, but Peter walked out and the next session was all about how Peter doesn’t have to feel pressured talking about something if he doesn’t want to with her.
It happens every time. He can’t bring himself to talk about it because he can’t even let himself think about it.
When Peter thinks about that day, he doesn’t just think about the feeling of being bit by the spider.
He thinks about how it felt to nearly die.
About how that spider bite was the reason he didn’t.
How very, very close Peter came to never waking up again.
It’s like Peter is walking on a tightrope and everyone else on the other side, coaching him to get across. They think he can do it, they believe that he won’t fall. All he has to do is talk to them, and talk about That Day.
But beneath Peter are sharks and those saltwater crocodiles surrounded by a ring of fire and if Peter talks about what happened after he got bit, he’s going to fall in. He’s going to be eaten alive and the blood in the water will be washed away like he was never there at all. The only way to get to the other side of the tightrope is to talk about that part, and as much as Peter wants to get off of that tightrope and onto solid footing, he’d rather let the crocodiles and sharks get him. He’d rather disappear into nothing, because at least nothing doesn’t hurt.
(This sort of fear is what got him into the mess with his parents and Dick.
When did it become easier to fall than to stand?)
Dick sets a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and his voice is quiet enough that only Peter can hear him. “Take your time. You don’t have to feel pressured to say anything right now.”
Right.
Peter finds himself relaxing into the touch. Dick makes a great points. He doesn’t have to tell them about the After. Not right now, because Peter isn’t ready for that. He only has to tell them enough to maybe get them off his back about it and to create this antivenom.
“I don’t know what you want to know. I went there, got bit, got spidered. End of story.” Peter tries not to let that uneasy feeling in his chest leak out in his voice, but it does. Dick’s thumb rubs soothingly, making sure Peter knows he’s still there without having to speak.
“They have to be Tony’s number one suspect for a reason, right?”
“I don’t think the same. Osborn isn’t the type to half-ass anything. He wouldn’t let Ohnn go around wearing the put-together scraps he has right now, he’d have made him use materials that are sure not to fail on him.”
“Have you considered that could be a reason why he didn’t? If this Osborn is known for that, then what if he was smart enough to not demand Ohnn use his materials, so it couldn’t be tied back to him? Or, what if Ohnn refused, and Osborn still decided to work with him because there was enough of another motivation to do so?”
“Peter,” That’s Bruce, on the phone. “We hadn’t been able to discuss this with you earlier, but Stephanie and Cassandra both heard the name of the man that those three were working with.”
What? That’s the first he’s hearing of that. Then again, Alfred had demanded they rest and no one bother them until the morning. “Who is it?”
“He calls himself Mysterio.” Peter frowns. He hasn’t heard of that name before now. It’s kind of lame, if he’s being honest. Sounds like a knock off Cheerio brand. Tim writes something down when he sees Peter’s expression. “The both of them are still out there, following Sportsmaster and Hook to the location that the Fear Gas is being delivered to. They’re hoping that it leads to Mysterio.”
He wants to be upset that they hadn’t told him about that, but he pauses to consider last night’s events. Cass and Steph haven’t even been back yet, and the storm made it hard for everyone to communicate. Plus, Alfred putting them on lock down. So it makes sense that he wasn’t told until now, but it still leaves him unsettled that this Mysterio guy is responsible for the assassins being in Gotham.
But there’s something else in Bruce’s voice that is unfinished. He’s trying to lead Peter somewhere.
“What are you trying to say?”
“Last night, do you remember telling Tim and Alfred what Black Spider said to you?”
He sort of does. He was tired and going through the motions, but he remembers a little bit. Black Spider said that he’d been told not to kill him. It’s weird because Black Spider is an assassin, it’s sort of part of the image to kill. The order to not do so when someone is purposefully messing up their plans is extremely off putting.
Now that he’s not filled with adrenaline from the fight, he can look back on it and recall a few moments where Black Spider could have tried to do more damage to him, but didn’t. It’s strange, yeah, but why point this out to Peter when he knows that?
They must think there’s a reason for it. Peter mulls it over, thinking back on the fight, then decides to try and put all the information in front of him. They’re bringing up Mysterio first, and tying it back to Black Spider. Bruce also referred to Mysterio like the name was just as unfamiliar to him as it is Peter.
But if it’s unfamiliar to Peter, and they’re bringing this all up…
“You think Mysterio is from my universe, not yours?”
Damian grins sharply- no, like a teacher being proud that a student got something right without much assistance. “Precisely.”
“It is weird that he shows up around the same time. But hey, could be coincidence, right? …Even if coincidences aren’t likely in Gotham.” Duke starts to explain. “But then, Black Spider says that he’s not supposed to kill you, specifically. That ties Spider-Man to this Mysterio guy, but why would he single you out? You haven’t been in Gotham very long, and the only rogue that we know you’ve pissed off is Two-Face. But that was as Peter, not Spider-Man. There’s one other person that has been looking for you, and that’s Ohnn. Who has a mystery partner that we hadn’t known the name of yet, that works directly with him.”
“And yeah, sure, Ohnn is looking for Peter, not Spider-Man. But if Mysterio is from your universe, and he’s more… ‘in reality’ than Ohnn is…” Tim pauses to let it sink in. But he doesn’t have to, because it’s already slapped him in the face.
Mysterio knows Spider-Man’s identity.
It’s like a freight train has swung out of a tornado and punched him in the face. No- it’s like he’s gotten struck by lightning again.
Mysterio knows your identity.
And it’s all because Peter decided to go out as Spider-Man, not as himself. He hadn’t known that Ohnn was working with someone at the time, but hadn’t he suspected that?
“Ohnn said that he wasn’t supposed to kill you either. The plan then was supposed to be bringing you somewhere and holding you as leverage over Tony.”
He’s sort of freaking out right now, and that kind of question isn’t helping.
“So we’re looking for someone that has a grudge against Tony.” Tim points out. “You mentioned that OSCORP is second place to Stark Industries. They’d have a huge motivation to ruin SI.”
“There’s also the big personal grudge they have against him for the semi corporate sabotage.” Peter states flatly, moreso thinking to himself than anything else. Tony had been snubbing OSCORP for a while after learning they were involved in Peter getting mutated. He’s not their biggest fan, and vice versa.
There’s mixed reactions to what hes said. Duke’s eyebrows raise and Damian scoffs. Dick squeezes his shoulder lightly, and when Peter leans back again, he puts his arm back around Peter’s shoulders and tucks him closer.
“Right. There’s- there’s that.” Tim clears his throat.
“But here’s the thing…” Duke thinks his words over carefully. “They could have just been after Tony originally- we don’t know exactly what they want from SI, but we know that they have a lot of motivation. And it seems like Ohnn wasn’t supposed to kill Peter, but he had no problem trying to when you were Spider-Man. But then this Mysterio guy figures out your identity… That’s huge. For multiple reasons.”
“Think about this…” Tim takes a small breath, as if preparing for Peter to have a not-so-great reaction. A little late, considering the inside of his mind is on fire and his insides have liquefied. “Why would Mysterio need all that Fear Gas? We don’t think he’d be concerned about Gotham, if his business is really in your universe with Tony. He must have a plan for it here, because Ohnn’s method of travel is… well, let’s face it. It carries him and what he carries, and it takes days for him to recuperate properly from the inter dimensional jumps.”
“He’s planning something for Spider-Man. For me.”
Peter’s words make Dick sit up straight. He doesn’t look surprised. Actually, he looks like he’s going to be sick.
“Yes, that’s what we believe.” Bruce says. “You turned out not to be a regular teenager like they had planned for. If they had expected it, then they likely would have taken more precautions. And now they have scramble to plan for Spider-Man wrecking what they were working on. That’s where the Fear Gas comes in, but why bother with all of that?”
“What do you mean?” Peter asks. His voice doesn’t feel like his right now.
“They could just leave you here. They could just not return now that you’re more trouble than it’s worth. But they keep returning, looking for you, and now they’re setting something up for Spider-Man. Not to mention there are multiple other ways to fight you without bringing Fear Gas specifically into it. Either they have something planned for here and they want to keep you out of it, or they have something they want from you.”
“Fear Gas is a pretty powerful thing, Peter.” Dick keeps his voice gentle. “People say a lot of things when they’re scared.”
“So you think they’re trying to get information out of me?” Peter frowns. He’d heard all about how awful Fear Gas is, but now that the threat is hanging over his head that they’re going to try and use it against him… His stomach churns at the thought.
What kind of information would they want from Peter that’s worth that?
Tony doesn’t tell him everything. He discusses things, sure, because he’s always teaching Peter stuff, but it’s not like Peter is aware of everything in that lab. There are places he’s not allowed to go and equipment he’s not allowed to touch.
“If Mysterio is from OSCORP, then the amount of Fear Gas being collected might make sense.” Damian, who had been pretty quiet this entire time, has a sneer of disgust on his face that he’s aiming at the wall. “I see what you’re getting to, Timothy.”
“What is he getting to?” Peter asks, but he thinks he knows. “I don’t like being out of the loop, guys.”
“OSCORP likely knew that Spider-Man had something to do with that experiment of theirs.” Tim speculates. “They probably drew up some conclusions about how it affected you. Your metabolism, your strength, everything. And now, they know that you’re Spider-Man. That’s why I asked how you were bit.”
And here, it comes back full circle to what started this in the first place.
“…That’s why?”
Tim leans back in his chair now, grabbing the vial off the table and turning it around in his hands.
“Well, there’s also the issue of Mysterio’s identity. He’s planning for your metabolism and how fast you could burn through the Fear Gas because of it, so it means he’s intimately aware with how your mutation might work on you. He’s working directly with OSCORP, and Ohnn, who is a snake mutant. The way both of your venoms work is the same type of unusual. A while ago, a security guard at the Wayne Industries branch was attacked by Ohnn, and he died at the hospital. I went back and looked at the files earlier. The venom hadn’t worked like just one version of snake venom… just like your spider venom is both necrotic and neurotic.”
He doesn’t like to think about it.
“I think Ohnn was bitten by a snake that was mutated by the same people that mutated the spider that bit you.”
He doesn’t like to-
“It might be why Ohnn is working with this person.”
He doesn’t-
“Mysterio is probably the person that made the spider in the first pla-”
“No!”
Peter says it so fast and with so much conviction that the room startles. But a fire burns through Peter’s chest and That Day is at the forefront of his mind.
Every bit of the screaming agony that was burning from the inside out, that was discovering how loud and bright and intense the world really is, all of it is there. The bleeding and the desperation to die somewhere where he couldn’t be hurt again and finding comfort in the fact that at least his body would be proof enough to take that Monster down with him.
And that day hadn’t just been near death, hadn’t just been his entire life upending again.
It had also been going to the one refuge he had at the time. The one person that he could talk to. The one person that could have cared if he went missing. He remembers going to OSCORP nearly every day for weeks after school, and learning from a brilliant mind that had once been family. Could have been an uncle, in another life.
He shakes his head and refuses- absolutely refuses- to even consider the option that’s been laid out in front of him.
Because there is no way. Not a chance in the world.
There are so many people that have failed Peter in his life, but he can’t even consider the possibility that this person would betray him, or even think about betraying him. If he does consider it, Peter might fall apart from the guilt.
“No what?” Tim laughs nervously, eyeing Duke to see if he caught that too.
“OSCORP isn’t as involved with this as you think it is. I get what it looks like from the outside perspective, but that’s just not the case. OSCORP could be involved somehow, I don’t know, but Mysterio is not him. He’s got to be an outside person, or maybe even just Osborn himself.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Dr. Connors wouldn’t ever think of hurting me. He wouldn’t kidnap me, or work with people who would, and he wouldn’t hurt Spider-Man either, identity or not.”
“How can you be so sure?” Tim presses with a frown.
“Because he was my dad’s best friend, and the work he does has always been because he wants to help people! There’s no way that he could be Mysterio.”
Peter takes a breath, trying not to get so heated, but damn does he not like anyone accusing Dr. Connors. It’s only when he feels Dick’s hand freeze on his shoulder that it hits him just what he said. Peter’s eyes widen and he looks back at Dick, full of dread, for some reason. Only to find that Dick just looks… contemplative.
Talking about Dead-Dick might be a little too soon for them. But at least Dick doesn’t seem to hate Peter’s guts right now for bringing it up right after they got comfortable.
“So you- you uh,” Duke tries to break the silence. Damian, who had been looking at Tim for the most part, now has set his intuitive eyes on Peter. He looks a lot like Tim does in this moment. Like Peter just revealed a bit of information they’d been waiting for. “You know this Dr. Connors guy really well?”
hello Old friend!
He glances at the door to see Alfred pass by. There’s a second where he just goes to grab something, and then he returns to the door and opens it. He looks carefully around the room as if counting heads, and then busies himself with checking on Jason.
“Y-Yeah.” Peter flounders. “I just- Before I got bit, I used to visit him at OSCORP, after school. He knew my dad and I wanted to ask him about him, but we never really got around to it. We just talked about anything but... Look, he just- he wouldn’t do this. He’s a good guy.”
Tim leans back in his chair, brows furrowed in concentration. Peter can’t tell if Tim is looking at him like that or if he’s just thinking hard about what he said. “Alright. I believe you.”
Damian raises a brow at him. “Just like that, Timothy? We all know very well that an emotional bond can be tested.”
“Peter’s a smart guy, and he’s got a more inside perspective on it. If he says that Dr. Connors isn’t Mysterio, then he isn’t. It’s just a theory, anyway. Not set in stone.” Tim shrugs it off, and he’s back to acting nonchalant. It’s weird, but Peter felt like a fish on a hook a second ago, and now it’s like he’s been released back into the water. “So what was Dr. Connors’ research, anyway? I want to know as much as I can so we can plan against Ohnn, too.”
He’s still wary, because it was let go just fast enough that it felt placating. But at the very least, he sort of got what he wanted, and that should be enough for now. If they bring it up again, Peter will shut them down again.
Dr. Connors had been worried about him. Peter was 12 years old and terrified, so he ran away after he got bit so Connors wouldn’t get in trouble.
“Why does he work for OSCORP?” Duke asks while Peter thinks of what to say.
“It’s not just a tech company, maybe I should have explained that better? It’s got it’s hands in a lot of different scientific avenues, bio engineering is one of them. He works as the lead of cross-species genetics research, and he’s been trying to create a regeneration serum to help re-grow human tissue, like limbs and stuff. My dad was his co-researcher before he died, but back then, it was still theory.” Peter explains.
Thinking about Connors in any capacity brings up the nightmare of what came after. It’s why he refuses to look back on the day he got bit. Even just his name reminds Peter of the burning venom in his system and then bleeding out, hours later, all alone in the snow on the side of the road.
But Connors isn’t a bad person. To combat the weak feeling that washes over him, Peter looks back at the memories from before That Day to keep calm. The ones that aren’t stained with red.
He still remembers the moment Dr. Connors realized who he was when Peter first visited him. The excitement in Dr. Connors’ eyes when Peter started trying to help. He’d been 12 years old, so he wasn’t that much help. But it was fun to learn from someone that knew his dad so directly. They didn’t talk at all about his father, it was sort of a taboo topic that made both of them sad or angry.
But talking about the research that his dad had worked on with Dr. Connors was a way to get around that awkwardness. It’s the closest Peter got to knowing his father in years.
Well. Peter glances back at Dick, who grins faintly at him.
It was the closest Peter got to knowing his father in years.
“If everyone is quite done here,” Alfred pipes up. He hadn’t noticed what with the interrogation, but Jason is awake now. He’s lying on his back, squinting at the ceiling. Alfred is standing next to him. “It is now 1PM. Masters Peter, Jason, and Dick all need their rest before dinner, so I would request that everyone leave so that is possible.”
“There’s one more thing, before we go.” Bruce finally speaks up again. Peter wishes he was here so he could try and read what the man might be thinking. Try being the key word, because Bruce is the hardest to read. “Peter, you need to lay low for a while.”
“You know that didn’t work out so well when dickhe*d said it last night, right?” Jason reminds the man. Peter feels his face grow red and the only reason he doesn’t chuck a pillow at Jason’s face is because Alfred is standing right there.
“Just hear me out. I’m not saying that you need to be benched. Stephanie and Cass are tailing Sportmaster and Hook right now, remember? It’s our closest lead to finding Mysterio. I’m hoping you’d agree that there’s a big enough target on your back right now that it’d be best for both Peter and Spider-Man to avoid being seen in town. At least until we figure out where the Fear Gas is being shipped to.”
“But I want to help too.”
“Not with your injuries, you’re not.” Alfred state firmly.
Peter lifts up his shirt to show off the cut on his stomach, then sees the bandages.
“…Okay, you can’t tell with these on, but my point is that the cut is nearly all the way gone.”
“You were struck by lightning.” Comes an unamused reply.
“Only, like, a little bit.”
“It was enough a bit that you made jokes about it.” Jason chimes in.
“That was last night, which was forever ago. I’m a changed man now.”
“I would be inclined to believe you if I wasn’t of at least average intelligence. Alas, here we are.” Alfred claims, and Peter hates that it’s f*cking hilarious. He sighs loudly so Alfred can tell he’s not happy, but Alfred doesn’t even flinch. “You’ll live. But only if you wait to not exacerbate your injuries. It was a relief that you did not get frostbite.”
“Or go into Sleepy Time.” Peter gripes back, crossing his arms with another huff. Hibernation isn’t as fun as it sounded when he learned about when bears do it. Tim perks up at that to ask, but Bruce interrupts.
“Let us handle this part.” He says, and Peter narrows his eyes at the blatant way he’s trying to sound nice and gentle. sh*thead. “We’re here to help, chum. We’re not going to keep you out of the loop. We just want to make sure that you’re okay, and not give them an opportunity to get one up on you.”
This man uses dirty tricks, throwing that back in his face. Peter had been pretty happy to have people on his side now- and he is! He still is very happy about that, about the Bats being as good as he hoped they were. Even more so because Dick and him are on pretty good terms right now and blah blah blah.
But damn if it doesn’t make him incredibly nervous to put something as big as his personal safety in someone else’s hands. When the hell is he gonna get used to that?
“…Fine. But if you keep something from me I’ll bite you.”
“Ah hah!” Duke stands up to point at him, a triumphant smirk on his face. “So you admit that you bite people!”
“I do not!” Peter sits up. “You take that back!”
“You just said it!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Pipe down! Jesus Christ, it’s too early in the damn mornin’ for ya to be shoutin’ my head off!” Jason shouts back.
“Master Jason, I do believe I just told everyone that it is 1PM, as in the afternoon. Do tell me if your head injury is causing you problems.”
“It’s morning when I wake up.” Jason retorts, but it’s much calmer than a second ago.
“Yes, because time shifts just for you, dear boy.” Alfred would totally roll his eyes if he was any less proper. He waves a hand at Tim, Duke, and Damian. “Young Masters, go set about destroying my hard work of a clean manor, would you? At least it will keep you entertained enough to leave them alone while they recover.”
“Aw, Alfie, you wound me so.” Tim gets up anyway, setting one hand on his heart and heading for the door. “I’m not a certain someone in this room who broke a chandelier.”
“Perhaps not, but I do recall you being the certain someone that tried to skateboard down the rafters.”
“Tried?” Tim scoffs. “I did.”
“My point withstanding.”
Duke follows after Tim, but not before sticking his tongue out at Peter and then whispering, “Ankle Biter.”
“Traffic Signal.” Peter whispers back. Duke barks out a laugh and closes the door behind him.
Damian stands next to Peter, arms crossed and glaring down at him like he did something to piss him off in these past few seconds. But Peter is spared trying to think of what only he might have done wrong when Damian’s ire turns on Dick as well.
“If I leave this room, I will return to the both of you in one piece.” He states, leaving no room for banter. Peter finds it anyway.
“How about two pieces?”
“One.”
“Three?”
“You are the worst haggler I have ever seen in my life.” Damian tuts his tongue.
“We’ll be fine, Dami. What’s the worst that can happen?” Dick smiles up at the boy. Damian raises a brow, and pretends to think it over.
“Well, I can think of several worst case scenarios. Number one: getting struck by lightning.” He holds up a finger.
Peter raises his hand. “That’s me!”
“Number two-”
“We get the point we get it we get it we get it!” Dick stumbles over him. “We promise not to get into any trouble while you’re gone.”
“I don’t.” Peter’s words make Damian’s eye twitch. “I promise to be on my worst behavior.”
“Peter, please-” Dick tries.
“Alfred.” Damian looks to the older man. Peter instantly stills. “Would you-”
“Okay fine fine fine!” Peter slaps his hand over Damian’s mouth. Alfred is pretending that he didn’t hear them, but Jason is laughing. “I promise not to die, and keep all my organs intact, and not to get struck by lightning. Get goin’ already!”
“That is satisfactory. I’m glad you see it my way.” Damian is all too pleased with his victory. “I will see you later.”
“Wait…” Dick holds out his arms. Damian blanches. “Pleaaasssee?”
“Are you being serious?”
“Pretty please with a cherry and sprinkles and whipped cream on top?” Dick smiles sweetly, jutting his lower lip out in a wobbly pout. Damian, moving so slow and with a pained expression on his face befitting someone who’s pulling their own teeth, walks over to the other side of the bed and sits down. “Yayyyy!! I knew you loved me!”
“Don’t test me.” Damian grits out, but he’s leaning his entire body weight into the hug and is probably holding onto Dick even tighter than the man is holding onto him.
Peter is about to reach for Jason’s stupid flip phone on one of the nearby medical trays in order to take a picture, but Dick grabs him by the shoulder and drags him into the hug too. Stunned at first, Peter doesn’t know what to do with his hands. But then he hears Damian protest and decides annoying him is better than confusion. He makes sure to wrap one arm around Dami when he hugs back.
“Alright that’s enough.” Damian wiggles out of their grasp, face on fire and Jason’s snickering isn’t helping. “Goodbye, until later.”
He’s out the door quick as a flash, the door shut before Peter can even think about calling out a loud “Bye bye!” after him.
Alfred pulls Jason into a quiet conversation. Peter tries not to listen to it, instead getting comfortable back on the cot. Dick is still hugging Peter close to his side, but he has a thoughtful gaze directed at Peter.
“What is it?”
Dick blinks, apparently not knowing that he was saying a lot with his face. He grins sheepishly, and he thinks over his words carefully. “You know, I’ve been away from Bludhaven for a while. My apartment sitter is paid well, so it’s not a problem if you say no…”
Wait, Bludhaven? Peter recalls passing conversation and maybe a tidbit on the wiki about it. That’s where Nightwing usually is, not in Gotham.
“Oh.” Peter tries not to let his heart sinking show on his face. “If you gotta go back…”
Dick’s smile falters for a second, but then he clarifies, “Would you want to go with me?”
Peter hesitates. That’s… not what he thought he meant.
He thought it was a nice way of putting ‘We got through this thing and that’s great, but I have responsibilities somewhere else, and I need to go deal with them for a bit.’ And that little voice in his head had briefly tried to stick a stake in his heart reminding him of the last time he let his dad out of his sight. But Dick is… inviting him. Going together instead of Peter being left behind.
He stares at Dick, trying to figure out words.
“It’s just that, well, you’re going to be laying low, and I mean, what better way to keep out of Gotham than getting literally out of Gotham? Bludhaven isn’t better, by any means, really, but, well, it’s not… Gotham. This is all you’ve gotten to see since you came here, and I thought it might be, uh, nice. You know, to get out of Gotham and see somewhere else.”
Dick is a lot more nervous than Peter thinks he needs to be. He’s running a hand through his hair nervously and Peter almost snorts when he sees Jason rolling his eyes behind Dick’s back. He catches Peter’s eye with a knowing smile.
“We can hide out, just you and me. And Haley.”
“Haley?” Peter’s eyes widen. He hadn’t expected a woman’s name to get dropped all of a sudden.
Dick catches what he said and clarifies in a short panic, “My dog! I have a dog. Pitbull, three legs. She’d love you.” His lips press into a thin line for a second, likely holding back a groan. “…My apartment sitter sends me pictures of her every day, I probably have some new ones on my phone, if you wanna see.”
“Absolutely I do.” Peter gets excited just thinking about it. “I’ve wanted a dog for forever but Tony keeps saying no ‘cause they chew on everything, Webs.’”
Dick’s grin is a little smug as he starts looking for his phone. “Tony doesn’t know what he’s making you miss out on. Every kid needs a dog. That’s like, the rule of life.”
“That’s what I said. He just said ‘I helped you build a robot spider.’” Peter mimics Tony’s voice again.
Dick chuckles, opening up his phone. Peter’s surprised to see a picture of him and Damian as the lock screen, from when he and Damian had a photo shoot with Alfred. A smile tugs on his lips and something warm curls around his heart. He’s less surprised to see a picture of Dick, Tim, and Jay as the home screen.
He pulls up a text message from Tweedle D :) and shows it to Peter. Underneath a paragraph where Tweedle D is explaining how they somehow managed to break his door handle and then fix it, there’s multiple pictures of a gray and white pitbull with ice blue eyes, wearing a pink strawberry sweater and looking out a window.
“That’s a new sweater,” Dick sighs, but he has a fond smile on his face. “Donna must have got that for her. She buys Haley more stuff than I can, and that’s saying something. It’s hard to keep up, her wardrobe is bigger than mine now.”
“I need to meet Haley right now or I’ll never be happy ever again.” Peter leans closer to see the pictures. Dick laughs softly and goes to his gallery to show Peter an album that’s just pictures of his dog.
“So you want to go?”
He sounds hesitant, like Peter would say no.
“Yeah,” Comes the very easy reply. Because now that he’s here…
Peter might as well be a little selfish, right? There’s probably only so much time where Peter can be here and be with his dad, and get to know him. At least, a version of him.
He keeps wondering how alike they are and how different they might be, wonders if even if they are different, they’re inherently the same person, beyond DNA. And Peter doesn’t want this chance to slip through his fingers, and be left wondering what he could have learned.
And he doesn’t want to be left behind again. At least for this minute, this small period of time, Peter can pretend that he could stay, in this dimension he doesn’t belong in.
“It’ll be nice.” It comes out way more small than he meant it to sound, a little too soft. His chest twists with anxiety when he tears his eyes away from the photos to look at Dick.
He’s grinning ear to ear, not noticing Peter is watching him. That fact that he’s this happy about Peter wanting to spend time with him makes the anxiety quiet.
Selfish, for now.
-
“Alfred, not a single person alive needs this many containers of food.” Dick is trying to see past the stack of, admittedly, too many boxes of food that Alfred has prepared them. “This has to be made of the entire week’s worth of groceries you got a couple days ago. Like, you know I know how to cook, right? I learned how to do that? I remember telling you because you were worried I would die of starvation when I moved out-”
“Most of these are because Master Peter needs to eat far more often than the average child. Considering that he’s a teenager and they are ravenous even on the best of days, that is an astounding amount of food. This should last the both of you for a while, but do tell me if you need more.” Alfred blatantly ignores Dick.
“Okay, okay, I get the message.” Dick sighs, but the fond smile tells a different story. “I’ll go put these in the car. I’ll see you soon, Alfie.”
Dick manages to get the door to the garage- the Wayne garage, not the Batgarage, because they’re leaving as civilians- with his foot. Alfred closes his eyes to beg for patience, and chides, “I was going to get that for you.”
“No need, Alfie! I’m a pro at door opening.” Dick tells him. “I practice with my feet in case I ever lose my hands.”
“What a terrible task to be added to my chore list today: disinfecting every door in the manor…” Alfred snarks as the door shuts close. He turns to Peter, and the twinkle in his eye accompanied by the faintest of worry lines between his brows betrays how he truly feels. “Are you sure that you do not need anything else, Master Peter?”
The old man is carrying a bag that he insisted Peter needs to bring with him. Peter’s backpack holds more than enough, with all of the stuff that he had before and thus collected since he got here. But the black and blue Nightwing-themed, duffel bag has a great amount of things that Peter feels bad for taking.
Like, clothes that used to be Dick’s, Tim’s and even a couple of things that Damian ‘hadn’t wanted anymore’? He understands the toiletries and stuff, but the clothes? He had barely got to mention to Alfred that he didn’t need an entire closet worth before he saw Alfred and Bruce’s expressions and promptly decided to shut the f*ck up.
Maybe he’s still not used to having more than a couple shirts and pants, even after living with Tony and Pepper for so long. When he was on his own, he couldn’t carry more than that. It would either get stolen or would end up destroyed or whatever. When he first got there, Pepper had looked at him exactly like Bruce and Alfred had when he had said something similar to her.
It had been greatly implied that maybe Peter didn’t know all that much about how much regular kids should have, and that it wasn’t an abnormal amount that Pepper had given him.
So yeah, whatever, he can be silent about that. But there’s also another problem of the guilt, that no one but Peter seems to be aware of. He wants to make sure they go back to their rightful owners, when he leaves.
What if he’s wearing one of their sweaters when he gets back to his universe? It’s not like Peter could hop on over to the next universe, no problem, and return it. They’ll never get it back.
To prevent anything more being added to the pile, Peter nods. “I’m quite alright, Mister Alfred.”
“Just Alfred, Master Peter.”
He grins smally. He likes the little game they’ve been playing, it makes Wayne Manor seem less intimidating. He also likes Alfred a lot, despite not getting to know him as long as he has known the others.
It had taken a few days to get used to him since had hadn’t known what exactly to think of the old man. But after this past week and a half of being basically on house arrest and only seeing Alfred (during the day because the others have school and work), they’ve gotten semi close.
Alfred isn’t just a worker to them. He’s their grandpa who cares a lot about them. Peter hadn’t ever had a grandpa before, which means that he has no reference to base this assumption off of. But he thinks that’s exactly what Alfred is.
Alfred knows their schedules to a tee, even if they’re all over the place. He keeps track of them in every way he can, and it’s like his love language to look after them. He’s a silent figure for the most part, but when he does say something, he’s got a lot of wisdom or something hilarious to fire back. Sometimes, he reminds Peter of FRIDAY. Sarcastic, witty, always on top of things. Respected. Someone that cares, and is far more than what they appear on the surface.
Something in the man’s eyes soften when he looks at Peter. Not just right now, it’s a most-of-the-time thing. It’s one of the reasons why it was so hard to say no to the guy, why he does what Alfred says to do.
Alfred looks at him like he’s seeing a memory. A good one, the type you look back on and wish it hadn’t passed so fast.
Every now and then, there’s a pause when Alfred speaks to him. Like he wants to say something else, but always decides against it. Right now is the same.
“Do be on your best behavior, please.” Alfred reminds him.
Peter tilts his head, smiling innocently. “When am I not?”
“Always.” He replies easily. Moving on before Peter can say, ‘What? Little ol’ me?’, Alfred tells him, “You can call the Manor at any time and I will answer.”
“The Manor?” Peter asks. “What about your phone?”
“I use the landline.”
“A landline?” He doesn’t mean to gawk, but he does. Alfred blinks at him. “That’s like, the most ancient thing ever. That’s worse than Jason’s flip phone- And ain’t that a feat!”
Alfred- well, he swears the man is almost amused. Alfred? Laughing? Is Peter getting to him, finally? “I do prefer it over the cellphones. No need to carry it around all the time and waste the day away.”
“That’s because you’re a walking skeleton.” Peter beams when Alfred’s mustache twitches as if he was going to smile. “Alright, I’ll call you on your skel-phone and let you know how we’re doing.”
“Sounds like a plan, I suppose.” Alfred doesn’t laugh, but Peter will continue to believe that he almost got him. When the old man is about to open the door, Peter glances around for a sign that anyone else is around. When he deems that they really aren’t (can’t be too careful, since the scuba diving Batman is around), Peter steps forward and hugs Alfred tightly around the middle.
The man pauses instantly, and Peter almost takes it back.
But, it’s just that… Alfred has been sincerely nice to him since he got here. And Peter can’t be too sure that he could see Alfred again. He doesn’t know when Tony will come to get him; it could be weeks away, or it could be right now. So he wants a proper goodbye. Just in case.
Alfred drops the bag on the ground and sets his arms around Peter’s shoulders. One hand settles on the back of his head, almost protective. It’s not the most comfortable hug in the world, because Alfred is an old man and getting kind of bony around the edges. But it’s sweet, and the way Alfred squeezes him gently feels like Alfred might have really needed it.
He’s nervous about Peter and Dick not being at the Manor. Just like Bruce is, just like the rest of them. They’re being supportive, but Bruce has been dropping hints that Peter and Dick might want to stick around. “Movie night is tomorrow” and apparently Alfred is making Dick’s favorite dinner.
But this is important to Peter. Some time with just him and Dick, away from the persistent stress of Gotham that Peter has been under since he got here. Besides, if Peter stays and can’t go with the others on patrol (again) or hunting down the bad guys, he might actually go insane.
After a moment, Peter releases him from the hug and smiles up at him, snatching the bag from the floor.
“I’ll see you soon, Alfie!”
Peter opens the door and that’s when Alfred sensed his other master plan. He huffs audibly, even to someone without Peter’s ears, and Peter takes it as a laugh. “That boy… just like his father.”
The door to the garage closes after him and Peter hops over the three steps down to land on the floor. He swings the duffel over one shoulder, taking a peek at the stupidly huge rooms that he passes by. The ridiculous garage isn’t just one, but several rooms, each with their own brand of ‘Does anyone really need that?’
Like, the first room he passes has a huge camper RV that he can not imagine that this family uses often, but the bumper stickers all have a personal touch from Bruce’s kids that make it seem like they do.
The second room, however, is where Peter stops, immediately distracted.
“Whoa…” He drops the duffel bag in surprise, eyes wide.
There’s a collection of beautiful vintage cars that Peter had only ever dreamed about seeing in person. There’s a couple of Ferrari’s in multiple colors, a Shelby 260 Cobra that Peter thinks might cost more than his apartment with Ben and May had. But it’s not any of those cars that caught his attention, beautiful as they are.
No, what Peter has his eyes set on is the black Alfa Romeo Lungo Spider.
“You’re joking me…” A giddy feeling bubbles up and he laughs as he walks closer to the car.
His hand hovers over the door, stopping before he can get too close. He wants to touch it so bad, or- even better- get inside and pretend he’s driving it on the open road. He peeks over the side without touching the shiny door, the whisper of a spy show that Ben adored in his mind.
near, close?
He glances up at the door and backs away from the car with his hands up. Wondering if Dick was coming to get him, he waits and listens. But the walls are a little harder to hear through in the garage, so it’s harder to tell who it is that’s nearby.
When nothing happens and no one arrives, Peter gives the car his attention again as it deserves.
He remembers Ben always talking about this car any and every time the topic came up. Ben had wanted one so badly, ever since he was Peter’s age. It was one of those topics that they joked that once Ben started, he wasn’t going to stop talking about it until the month was over.
It’s how Peter came to like cars as much as he does. Ben would talk about this car, and then he’d go on and on about other cars, and it would all circle back to this one again. And that’s all because of a spy in an old TV show that owned it. Ben watched it so often that Peter almost knew it line for line at some point when he was younger.
He wonders if he still might know some of it. Maybe when he gets back, Tony would want to watch it with him.
Or… not. This seems like something Peter might want to share with Ben and only Ben.
His chest tightens and his eyes water, but it’s not just because of the reminder that Ben wasn’t there to watch his favorite shows anymore. This time, it’s all about how Peter can still hear Ben acting out the show for him in front of the TV. May used to pretend to be the villains, or she’d chime in from the other room to play along.
hello!
The door to the third garage opens. Peter quickly wipes his eyes, because that’d be embarrassing to cry in front of people over something so small. Bruce is standing in the doorway, wearing a big sweater that he thinks Jason was wearing the other day. Peter still can’t get used to seeing Bruce so relaxed.
Bruce spots the duffel bag first. Then, he turns to look for Peter, only to find him with both hands in the air, showing off that he’s not touching the car without permission. A- Peter swears, fond- grin crosses the man’s face and he chuckles.
“You know I’m not a cop, right?”
“You know I’m not a cop, right?” Peter fake mocks, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He scuffs his shoe on the ground and pretends to not be as interested as he is when he asks, “Why do you have so many cars? I thought Tim said ‘Brucie’ sucks at driving.”
That’s what he’d heard, at least. ‘Brucie Wayne’ is some sort of persona that Bruce uses to keep people under the impression that there’s no way he could be Batman. He’s apparently crashed more cars than people can count. It’s a smart idea, but Peter wouldn’t say it out loud.
Bruce comes to stand next to Peter and crosses his arms, a smile on his lips. “They’re classics, and I’m rich.”
“The public will eat you, one day.”
“I’m sure they will.” Bruce isn’t fazed. “You like this one?”
Peter shrugs, like a liar. “It’s alright, I guess.”
Bruce catches on. “You want to sit in it?”
That rat bastard knows exactly how to trick him. He pulled the same sh*t with the Batmobile when he first met Peter. And again, Peter is going to fall for it on purpose. “Yes!”
The Rat Bastard stops Peter before he can go to the passenger side, and he pops open the driver door. He gestures towards it, and Peter stares at him for an embarrassing three full seconds before realizing what that meant. Peter’s not a full idiot, only half of one, so he takes that opportunity like a man dying of thirst in a desert who’s just come across water. Peter hops into the front seat with the biggest grin on his face that he can’t contain, fingers flexing as he resists touching everything that he sees. Bruce closes the door and goes to sit in the passenger seat next to him.
“We’re not driving it,” Bruce reminds him, and Peter rolls his eyes.
“Aw maaaan,” He drags out sarcastically. “You mean I can’t go joyriding in the Alfa Romeo?”
“You know what it’s called?”
“Don’t sound so surprised about that.” Peter would grumble if he wasn’t delighted to be sitting in this car. “Man, my Uncle Ben would have killed to be in this spot. This is ridiculous.”
“He’s the one that taught you about cars?” Bruce asks.
Peter hesitantly sets his hands on the steering wheel and looks through the windshield. If he thinks hard enough, he can pretend that he’s the spy in the movie, speeding around the road bends or turning a sharp corner in the dark and dusty city. Just like Ben used to do.
“Mostly just this one.” Peter admits. “I learned most of the other stuff from his friends at the station.”
“He has good taste in cars.” Bruce tells him, and Peter beams because yes, Ben did have good taste.
“I was told you’re a genius, but it’s nice to see proof.”
Bruce snorts and rolls his eyes at that. “Smartass.” He says with zero heat behind it. “You know, this is one of my favorites. I used to watch a show with my father that had this car in it, and I always wanted to own one when I got old enough to drive.”
As that sinks in, he tears his eyes away from the windshield to look at Bruce.
Something in his chest, that is usually settled behind his rib cage, hangs on to that tidbit of information with keen interest, like a cat that’s just saw the grass move and heard the faintest of squeaks of a mouse.
Because hadn’t he just been thinking about how Ben was the same? He’s almost afraid to ask, but he doesn’t know why.
near
“Was it called the Gray Ghost?”
Bruce looks at him blankly, for a second, like he hadn’t heard him properly. And then tilts his head as the interest gleams in his eye, observing Peter like he felt the exact same awe at this coincidence.
“Yes,” He sounds surprised, and that’s something new. Bruce doesn’t get surprised often. “Yes, it was. How did you-”
“It was my Uncle Ben’s favorite show. He used to watch it with his dad.”
The two sit in silence for a beat. Peter takes his hands off the wheel, trying to figure out why that felt so weird.
“That’s kind of cool, actually.” Peter says, if just to break the awkward tension in the air. “I didn’t think that the same show would exist here, too. I wonder if there are any differences between them…”
Bruce smiles softly. “When you get back, we’ll have to look into that.”
hello!
“There you are, Peter!” Babs calls out. She stops her wheelchair in the middle of the doorway, rubbing one eye and yawning.
Somehow, that means she looks more awake than she did this morning. She had come to see Peter in person for the first time since he got to the Manor before he and Dick left for Bludhaven. Peter felt bad about it because Babs had admitted she’d been up all night with Steph and Cass, who had been staking out Sportsmaster and Hook.
(Apparently, those two hadn’t yet started going anywhere. Peter doesn’t know what to make of that.)
“Sorry, didn’t mean to keep y’all waiting.” Peter opens the driver door, in a hurry to get out.
Bruce’s promise to watch the show settles that something that Peter couldn’t name a minute ago. Even though he’d just said that he hadn’t wanted to pull Tony into it, the idea of watching the show with Bruce doesn’t seem half bad. Maybe it’s because of that similarity between he and Ben, just now. He supposes it’s because he knows Bruce would appreciate it.
Bruce gets out of the car as well, but he looks back at the car like it’s part of a puzzle he’s putting together.
“No, don’t worry it, Pete.” Babs waves it off. “Dick’s still halfway through his goodbye to Jason. When that’s over, he goes to Damian. Tim and Duke got out of it in record time.”
“What, is there like, an order?” Peter raises a brow.
“Dick doesn’t like to say goodbye, so he makes a whole show out of it, and makes sure everyone gets equal love before he goes.” Babs explains, rolling her eyes but grinning nonetheless. “He’s a bit dramatic, if you’ve noticed yet.”
“For someone who says that he wasn’t in theater class, he sure acts like he was.” Peter stops midway through reaching for his duffel bag that isn’t there. He turns a pointed look at Bruce’s back as the man exits through the door with the bag in hand, whistling like the criminal he is.
Jason passes by when Peter gets into the third room in the garage (which holds all the cars that they use in their daily lives). He stops in front of him to adjust the hood on Peter’s sweatshirt, then ruffle his hair. “Later, you little sh*t. Be good and try not to disappear on him, yeah?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, just try not to stumble across any more glitter bombs while I’m away, Rainbow Sparkles.” Peter swats the hand away and attempts to fix his hair. Jason, the vindictive asshole that he is, ruins Peter’s work by ruffling his hair again, much more frantic than the first time.
Bruce is busy putting Peter’s bag in Dick’s car- a beat up thing that breaks Peter’s heart. It’s worse than Counterpart Happy’s old truck. It might not have bullet holes, but the duct tape on the back window to hold it up and the dents in his bender tell a sadder story. Tim and Duke aren’t there to complain to, and Babs is already over by Bruce trying to convince him that he doesn’t need to triple check the car.
Peter’s eyes fall on Damian and Dick, both of whom have not spotted him yet. They’re standing a little away from the car, Damian wrapped in a tight hug that he’s barely fighting to get out of. Dick has his cheek set on the top of Damian’s head, and Peter can hear their conversation from here despite their low voices, with his advanced hearing.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with?” Dick asks, apparently not for the first time, because Damian groans.
“I have school.”
“You hate school.”
“No I do not.”
“You say it’s a waste of time.”
“When have I ever said that?”
“Just the other day. You reminded everyone what has to be for the fiftieth time that you could have a PhD already, if you wanted to.”
“Tt. That doesn’t change that Alfred and Father would never let me skip.”
“I could always steal you.” Dick leans out of the hug to look at Damian with a beaming smile. “I’ve done it before, I can do it again.”
“You need to spend the time with your son, not me.” Damian insists. It’s a little flat, almost like Damian said it that way on purpose so that Dick couldn’t tell how he felt about the statement. Dick’s smile fades into a worried one.
“Next time, then.” Dick cups Damian’s face with both his hands. “We’ll have a trip when you don’t have school, so I can have the both of you to myself. Bruce can deal with it.”
At that, Damian offers Dick the faintest of grins, and leans into Dick’s right hand. But then he catches himself and backs out of Dick’s hold, crossing his arms and looking away. “Whatever.”
Dick just smiles at him.
Well. That’s surely something Peter hadn’t thought about.
He had felt it before, he recalls, that Dick and Damian had a more father and son type relationship than a brotherly one. Before the Two-Face incident, Peter had purposefully kept away from them on the sidewalk so as not to feel like he was intruding on that bond they had.
It felt wrong, at the time, and maybe something about it feels wrong this time, too.
Is he intruding?
…But, it’s only for a short time, right?
It’s not like Peter’s taking Dick away from Damian forever. He’s not capable of that, even if he wanted to. This is just a one time thing, since Peter will go back at some point. He doesn’t know why Dick made it sound like there would be a next time… But the idea sounds nice.
Having a brother like Damian doesn’t sound bad at all, just like how having Dick as his Dad sounds more and more natural the more time they spend together. And being able to spent time with Dick and Damian both, just them, like they’re really family…
Hadn’t he also wondered about the last time someone had shown casual affection to him the way Dick did for Damian?
It had to have been Ben. Even with as back and forth as they were, towards the end, when Peter had just been angry all the time, he and Ben had their good moments. Ben would let Peter crawl into bed with him after a nightmare, or he would hold Peter’s hand just to hold it. He used to reach for comfort the way that Dick does. Dick offers out hugs like they’re candy, he’s always got to be reaching for someone. Comforting them or holding them like it will say everything he can’t.
Tony’s not a hugger, and neither is Pepper. Peter doesn’t need to be coddled like a baby, because he’s not a kid anymore. But it would be… nice, once in a while, to not have to ask for a hug.
That’s not important, why is he worried about that?
Ungrateful.
Shut up.
Tony is more than enough, with or without hugs. He shows their bond in other ways, with the way he teaches Peter in a low voice way after they should have long gone to sleep. He calls him Bambino, which Peter is pretty sure has something to do with Bambi, and Webs, and whatever nickname he can come up with, to show that Peter is one of his people.
He belongs to the world that Peter belongs to. He took Peter into his home and became his mentor, and Peter is good with that arrangement. And even now, Tony is looking for him. Peter can’t ask for anything more than that- having someone look for him.
'I want you to know that you can call for me. Every time you call, I’ll be there.'
Tony’s promise is still there. It still provides the same comfort.
He can’t imagine trying to make a choice. Because he knows that as great, and kind, and familiar as Dick is, he’ll choose Tony.
He hadn’t worried about it before now, and he shouldn’t worry about it still. Damian hadn’t given an indication that their friendship had changed just because of the news about Dick and Peter’s relation, so he guesses it’s okay on that front. And Peter will be going home, even if that was the case, so he’s not stepping on anyone’s toes.
“Peter!” Dick raises the keys to the car above his head and shakes them excitedly, a dopey grin on his face. “You ready to head out?”
Right. Nothing to worry about.
“Yeah!” Peter hurries over. He claps Damian on the back and the other boy nods at him.
“No disappearing or running away, Grayson.”
Peter doesn’t correct him, even though Damian should know that’s not really his last name, since Peter told him. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, man.”
He tries to assuage Damian’s fear that Peter is going to purposefully run away again but giving Damian a hug, just like he had done for Alfred. He sets his chin on Damian’s shoulder and is relieved when Damian hugs back. He steps out of the hug when Damian lets go first. He’s trying to act like Mr. Too Cool For Hugs again, but Peter’s mission was a success- Damian is more relaxed than before.
“I mean it.” Damian insists as Peter pops open the door to the passenger seat. “Do you hear me?”
He makes a show of trying to roll up the window (literally rolling it up, like with one of those circular handle things cars used to have), and puts one hand up to his ear. “Huh? What’d you say?” But then the window stops halfway with a crunching noise, and it plops all the way down.
Peter and Damian both stare at the broken window. Dick hums to himself with no care at all to the broken window. With Peter in too much shock to do it to himself, Dick reaches over Peter to buckle him in. It takes two tries to get the click to work.
“Is this thing… safe?” Peter eyes the rest of the car.
“This thing is called Alberta and you should put respect on her name. Alberta gets us from point A to point B just fine!” Dick sets one hand over his heart in a promise of safety. Peter does not believe him. “Don’t worry about the window handle. Viccy broke that a while ago. I should have warned you that you can’t even look at the handle without it wanting to die.”
“Oh, joy, a suicidal car named Alberta.”
“If your spider sense hasn’t gone off, then I would assume it won’t kill you or itself.” Damian adds.
“Thanks, Dami, that makes me feel soooo much better.”
“You’re welcome, of course it does.” Damian smirks down at him.
“Why don’t you take the-” Bruce is cut off by Dick attempting to turn on the car. It sputters and gives out. Bruce opens his mouth to try again, but Dick holds up one finger and tries again. He hits the dashboard and the car comes on, blasting out Jolene at top volume. He barely lowers it long enough to speak to Bruce.
“Byeeeee B, we’ll be safe!”
“Are you sure you don’t want to-” Bruce attempts to shout over the music, but Babs puts a hand on his shoulder and shakes her head solemnly.
Dick backs out of the garage as the door opens. Peter waves to the other three, but Babs and Damian are already headed back inside. He ends up only waving at Bruce, the last one standing.
Bruce looks kind of small in comparison to his really big house. He waves at Peter and he doesn’t budge from that spot, like he’s a statue that would wait for them to get back before it springs back to life. As the death trap of a car gets far enough down the driveway that they can’t see each other anymore, Peter hopes the guy doesn’t keep standing around.
Peter looks around the car- sorry, Alberta- as Dick shuffles through the radio when Jolene ends, looking for a new song and disliking every channel.
“How long have you had, uh, Alberta? I’ve never seen a car in person that had a handle spinny thingy to literally roll the window down.”
“Way to make me feel like I’m the oldest thing alive.”
“You’re so welcome.”
“I’ve had her since I moved out of B’s place.” Dick answers. “She was my first big kid purchase after I got accepted to go to college. We got sooo sh*tfa-”
He stops so suddenly that Peter looks around for a danger. But Dick clears his throat and continues, much more careful of his words now: “We were very responsible and that’s why she has lasted this long.”
Peter holds back his doubtful laughter.
Whatever wild adventures that he’s had in the car, it is clean on the inside. There’s no trash and there’s no dubious smells, there’s nice seat covers and the steering wheel cover is white with blueberries on it.
There’s also signatures covering the car, all in various different marker colors and faded like they’d been there forever. On the dashboard is GARFIELD WAS HERE in big, boxy, green letters, and next to it is the name Kori with a star dotting the i. There’s far more names that Peter would have to get in the backseat to see, but he thinks one reads ZATANNAAA. And every inch of the dashboard that doesn’t have a name on it has a sticker slapped on there. Some of them are from bars in a place called ‘Jump City, San Francisco’ and others are from New York, Boston, or Chicago.
Peter didn’t know his dad all that much, though he knew tidbits of information. He went to MIT, he traveled in various countries both before his parents’ deaths when he was in the circus, and for a few months during and after college. But he mostly stayed in New York.
(The last time he tried to leave the country, he ended up dying.)
Dick is somehow even more well traveled than Richard got to be. And not just that- he has friends that Peter didn’t even hear of in passing. Or maybe he had. Maybe his dad had counterparts of Dick’s friends, and Peter just wasn’t paying attention.
“Who’s Viccy?”
“Huh?” Dick settles on listening to some techno song as they pull up to the Wayne Manor gate. Peter hadn’t actually seen this entrance the entire time he’s been here, funny enough. He always left using the Batcave. “Oh, that’s Victor. We call him Viccy cause he hates it.”
“And who’s ‘Tweedle D smiley face’?”
Dick flashes a knowing smile. “My twin.”
…Peter squints at him, suspicious there’s a joke there. “Like… how? ‘Cause last I checked, that wasn’t a thing in my universe.”
“Not blood related, sadly. If we were, we’d be even more insufferable. Just- trust me, when you meet her, you’ll see it. We’re really close friends, have been since we were kids.” Dick tells him, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel along to the beat of the song. “She’s in our line of business- Man, she’s gonna love you.”
Peter settles in for the hour and a half car ride, hoping that that is the case. It would be pretty awful if Dick’s friends don’t like him, and by proxy, Dick ends up not liking Peter either.
-
“So, it’s not much,” Dick is saying, pulling out his keys and searching for the one that opens the apartment door. “I only recently moved to this one a few months ago, and I’m still getting used to it. Still figuring out how to like, paint, and stuff like that, you know?”
“Right.” Peter agrees, but he could not care less.
“It might be messy,” It must have just struck him that this could be possible, because he winces. “I don’t pay Donna to clean up, just to look after it when I’m gone a long time. I might have forgot to pick up some laundry…”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” Peter says.
“There could also be some cups laying around, I always forget to pick them up. Or Donna might have gotten them anyway. I dunno.” Dick shrugs. He attempts to put his key in the door and open it up, but the handle pops off in his hands.
They stare at it for second of silence.
“Ah. Or that- could uh, happen.” Dick tries to put it back in, but it’s a pathetic attempt. “I guess I gotta get that fixed. maybe I should have come back first to make sure it’s fine-”
“It gives the apartment character.” Peter tries. He doesn’t know why Dick is freaking out about something this small.
Dick glances at him, and the nerves fall away a little bit. His shoulders relax and he grins softly. “Yeah, I guess it does. Much better than my first apartment,” He bends down to try and see what the problem is with the door. “-that one used to have windows shake every time a train passed.”
“We used to have to convince the fridge to open.” Peter leans on the wall next to the door, watching Dick, who clearly doesn’t know how door handles work. “Sometimes it wouldn’t open and Ben was convinced you had to say ‘please’ to it.”
“Manners are pretty important, or so I’ve heard.” Dick jokes back.
It’s not that bad of an apartment, no matter that Dick had been worried about. Bludhaven is about the same as Gotham in terms of crime and all, but Dick lives in a decent enough neighborhood.
The outside of the building has some nice art for a Pride Month that had to have been painted a couple years ago and everyone just left it up. And Dick told him that the flowers in the front garden look great in the springtime.
The people that they passed on the way up were pretty nice too, which was unexpected. At least, for Peter, it was. Ever since he got to this universe, people are a lot harder to predict.
A lot of them ignored them, which is always great, but there were a great amount of people that actually knew Dick by name, who were excited to see him. They welcomed him back with quick bro-hugs or high fives, or by flirting with him, in two horrific instances that made him almost barf.
Peter’s presence was explained by being a long lost cousin- because there’s only a 15 year gap between he and Dick, and wouldn’t that be awkward- but one guy said Peter was Dick’s ‘spitting image’ and looked at them suspiciously. Overall, a nice place with nice people.
Considering Peter had lived not only with some awful foster placements, but also had been literally homeless for a while? Some dirty laundry or a couple cups is just fine. Dick doesn’t have to be embarrassed on that front.
But then again, Dick still doesn’t know everything about Peter’s life. There’s been some assumptions, and Peter thinks that includes that Peter might not have had the best home life during his foster care, but they haven’t talked about it… Is that something he should bring up? That sounds awful to think about.
The door handle rattles, and the previously steady, smaller heartbeat that was inside picks up. A dog starts barking and Peter hears the skittering of padded feet across a hardwood floor. Haley comes right up to the door and whines loudly, letting them know she was there and she figured out who it was on the other side, and that it’s so mean of them to not open the door already.
near!! hello?
And that’s what alerts Donna- Haley barking with impatience. Peter hears her call out to ‘Stop touching the door, Dummy!’ from somewhere deep inside the apartment and start to rush over. Dick sighs and shoves the door handle into his jacket pocket, as the door starts to shake as Donna tries to open it.
It takes a minute, but the door finally swings open, revealing Donna, Haley, and the scent of a very nice candle somewhere inside.
Haley, the goodest dog ever in the world, sits oh so politely and waits for them behind Donna while vibrating with excitement. She does, however, scream-bark right over Donna’s excited, “Twin!”
Dick is tackled into a hug before Peter can even get a good look at her. Dick nearly topples over onto the ground, but Donna scoops him up in her arms so that his feet dangle over the floor, as easy as if she had picked up a toddler and not a grown, 6 foot tall man.
“Twin! I missed you!” Dick isn’t at all fazed by the greeting.
Peter steps back to let them have a second to say hello, and is instantly enamored when Haley takes this as an opportunity to say hello to Peter, not Dick. Mission ‘steal the dog’ is a go.
“Heyyyy, pretty girl!” Peter coos quietly, probably just as excited as the dog is. He has always wanted a dog, but it just never ended up happening. Couldn’t afford it, the foster care wouldn’t let him, and now Tony needs to be broken down about letting one into his penthouse.
He sticks his hand out for her to smell, her cold nose sniffing with keen interest. Her tail whacks, whacks, whacks! against the door frame and she’s so happy that she’s resorted to whining so loud that Peter wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbors heard her. She’s just as cute as the photos made her seem- nay, even cuter because she’s wearing a collar with frogs on it.
Peter crouches down on the floor to pet Haley properly, and the three-legged dog is delighted by his stroke of genius. She leans her entire body into Peter and looks up at him with those big ol’ eyes full of love and everything good, trying to lick his face.
Donna sets him back down on the ground, pulling out of her hug with Dick to get a good look at him, hands on his shoulders. “You’re in one piece, you don’t look sick, or angry, or sad! This is has got to be a new record or something, Dickie!”
“I’m injured.”
“That doesn’t count.” Donna waves it off. “I’ll have to tell the groupchat!”
She’s gorgeous, but that takes a backseat almost instantly. Like yeah, sure, pretty woman, whatever. But he’s realized that Dick hadn’t just called her his twin because they’ve been friends for so long, or because they’re so alike personality wise. It’s because she looks a lot like him.
Peter would not be surprised if Donna was Dick’s blood related sister. Hell, he’s rethinking if his dad really had no other blood relatives in his universe.
Her long black hair is pulled back into a ponytail, held up by a yellow scrunchie. The curls shine and bounce when she turns her head, and her earrings twinkle in the light of the hallway. She almost looks like she glows, which is reminiscent of the times where Thor is at his happiest.
She has dark blue eyes that crinkle around the edges when she smiles and tan skin with freckles across her cheeks- no, some of those are tattooed stars, which is so f*cking cool that Peter adds them to his future tattoo list immediately. Her nose, her eyes, her dimpled smile- she looks more related to Dick than Peter does.
“You’ve been gone so long I thought I’d have to start payin’ rent for this place!” Donna fake punches his shoulder. Dick winces because that’s a little too close to where he got injured. Donna’s hand stops and she grimaces, whispering out a sorry that Dick brushes off with a grin.
“You know how it is,” Dick rubs the back of his neck. “Gotham gets busier and busier every day.”
“Uh huh.” She raises a brow. “Gotham is the reason you left for three weeks.” Donna comments, but her voice is laced with amusem*nt. “No other reason.”
She turns her gaze on Peter to wink at him like they’re sharing a joke. Peter would like to be in on the joke, but his brain isn’t keeping up with the memo. He struggles for a calm smile when a horrific bout of nonsense anxiety clutches at his throat and threatens to kill him on the spot. Haley is confused when Peter’s hands stop petting, and he waves at Donna, standing up again.
“He-ello.”
Oh god, shoot him now. Why, of all times, would his voice decide to crack now?
Donna doesn’t mention it at all, like she’s blessed by a goddess of kindness. Peter momentarily thinks about how nice it would be if the floor opened up and swallowed him forever.
“Nice to meet you, Peter.” Her voice is warm and gentle, a lot less boisterous than she was with Dick. “Dickie told me all about you yesterday. Good thing he got to it first, because Kara was totally gonna spill the beans.”
Who is Kara? Supergirl, right? ‘Cause there was no one else that would know, he thinks?
She holds out a hand in a motion that… confuses Peter. It’s like it could be a side hug, or it could be a hand shake. It’s clear she wants one of the interactions, so he settles on a hand shake. Prays that it wasn’t supposed to be a hug. Donna doesn’t appear as confused as Peter is, nor upset about it. She just squeezes his hand a bit and-
happy! strong…
Okay, alright. Peter can work with that. She’s relaxed as can be and she’s not tense like she wants to fight or anything. It’s kind of like he’s meeting Supergirl again, but not.
“Nice to meet you too.” He mumbles, remembering he does, in fact, have a voice. It thankfully doesn’t betray him this time, but then again, it’s not supposed to betray him. Why would Peter thank his voice for doing its job?
He tries to think of anything funny to say, because that’s his brand, like, come on. Anything to make this awkward, awful feeling go away, would do. Even something as stupid as a pun, or about the door handle, maybe?
But something about meeting Dick’s friend as Peter and not Spider-Man makes him lose all sense of humor and confidence. Dick, merciful, saves him from trying to say anything that he would regret, by setting a hand on his shoulder and offering: “How about you go set your stuff down first?”
“Yeah, sure,” Peter takes the out.
“There’s a bedroom down that hallway,” Dick points straight into the apartment. On the other side of the living room is a long hallway. “-it’ll be the second door on your right. Take Haley with you, she’ll show you the way. Won’t you, girl?”
Dick finally stoops down to give her some attention, but she’s torn. Haley stands at Dick’s side for about three head pats before she decides to go right back to Peter. Dick is appalled for a couple seconds, but chuckles.
Donna gives him one more sweet smile before Peter goes past her and into the apartment, Haley at his heels. They come in too, but they stop at the living room to talk to each other.
He finds the room without any problem. The first door on the right is a linen closet, and the second door is the bedroom, as expected. Haley runs inside and jumps onto the bed, looking at Peter with a big dog smile as he follows her inside.
Setting his backpack down and duffel on the bed next to her and then idly petting her head, he tries to get familiar with the room.
It’s nothing like Wayne Manor, nothing like the very small bedroom at Benny’s, nothing like his bedroom back at Tony’s.
The walls are a soft blue, white trim. The bed is in the middle of the wall and doesn’t take up that much space. There’s two nighstands on either side, one with a lamp. A desk set up in one corner, the foot of the bed faces the opposite wall with a closet and, apparently, a small connected bathroom. It doesn’t have much personality to it, since it’s just a guest bedroom.
But it feels a little more right than the other places Peter has stayed before. He tries not to think about that too hard.
Peter turns his attention to the dresser next to the door, then turns to Haley. “What do you think, girl? Think I should get comfy ‘nough to put Not-My-Clothes in the dresser?”
Haley, obviously, doesn’t have any input to give. But that’s alright, she’s pretty and she’s sweet and she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to. He gives her a quick kiss on the head, and she tries to kiss his face again.
Now that he thinks about it, it might be a good idea to put the things that he’s just borrowing into the dresser, and leave his things in his backpack. That way, he can’t get anything mixed up, and he won’t accidentally take more than what would be on him at the time, if he ends up going back home.
He picks up the duffel bag and sets it on top of the short dresser, pulling out the drawer. He’s setting the folded clothes (Alfred’s doing) inside the drawers when he glances through the doorway. His eyes land on Dick’s bedroom, his door slightly across the hall and all the way open. From here, Peter can see a shelf, and his heart stops.
He stops, too. And before he can think twice, he’s walking across the hall to look at the shelf closer. Dick and Donna are still talking to each other in the living room, unaware that Peter is probably snooping.
Is it snooping if it’s in plain sight?
Haley hops off of the bed in the guest room and trots into Dick’s room. She thinks that Peter has moved in here to hang out, because she hops onto Dick’s bed and watches him again, trying to convince him to lay down to snuggle. Peter apologizes softly and he passes by the bed to look up at a memory on the shelf.
His parents’ old storage unit was destroyed in the Battle of Manhattan. That included family albums, more VHS tapes that he could have watched, and personal affects that they had left. It also included a stuffed elephant toy that Peter used to lug around.
What was her name again?
It was... Sit? No, Zitka.
It had been his dad’s when he was a kid. He remembers a teddy bear that Ben talked about, a duck that had been his mother’s favorite as a baby. Richard had been ten years old and missing his parents and the circus, and Ben spent hours going to different stores to get a plush elephant. He came home with the exact same one that Peter is looking at now.
It’s strange, seeing it sitting on this shelf. Zitka had gone up in flames. The only reason Peter even remembered it was because it had also been his toy.
When Peter was about 3 years old, he apparently had been given Zitka. He doesn’t remember that, it was just something that May had told him in passing. Peter had kept it close by for that entire year, taking it everywhere with him, refusing to sleep without it.
But when his parents died, Ben and May said that Peter had put Zitka away, and only sometimes would they catch Peter with it at night. Eventually, Peter refused the toy at all, and it went into that storage unit, never to be seen again.
He didn’t even remember the toy until just now, seeing it perfectly intact on this shelf.
Peter leaves the room quickly. Haley joins him back in the guest bedroom as Peter puts away the clothes, and that’s where Dick finds him a few minutes later.
“Hey! So, Donna’s about to head out, and I was thinking we should start thinking about dinner.” Dick leans on the doorway, trying to act nonchalant, but he really does fail at that when Peter is around. He’s nervous. Always.
Peter closes the drawer, and he finds the duffel is now empty. He does put on a sweatshirt that might be Tim’s, though, ‘cause it’s cold. “What’re we thinking?”
“There’s a really good Thai place nearby, if you wanna try that. But we also have the multitudes of Alfred’s cooking, or I can try to make something.”
“I think Alfred would be able to sense if we didn’t eat his food.” Peter points out.
“It won’t go to waste, either way, I’m sure. I was just thinking about the Thai ‘cause I have everyone try it when they come to visit. Wouldn’t hurt to have one night without Alfie’s cooking.”
“Thai does sound really good right now…” Peter sits on the bed next to Haley. She climbs onto his lap and licks his hand. “I’m good with tradition. It must be good if you make everyone try it.”
“I’m a loyal customer. I’m pretty sure I would have gotten scurvy like every college kid that didn’t know how to cook if I hadn’t found them.” Dick smiles at the memory. Peter is, like, 90% sure scurvy is that pirate sickness, and he has no idea what that has to do with college.
“Are they mean to you when you order?” Peter asks. His spider sense buzzes near as Donna walks down the hall. She stops in the doorway behind Dick and leans on the opposite side of the frame, arms crossed.
“They call me ‘that dickhe*d’ when I walk in or call on the phone.”
“Oh, it must be amazing then.” Peter has never once trusted a restaurant where the chefs aren’t grumpy.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna get started on all that food now?” Donna suggests. “If there’s really a ‘f*ck ton’ like you told me, it might last until Friendsgiving. If you end up going. No pressure.”
“Oh, uh, I think I’ll skip on that, this year, D…” Dick replies awkwardly.
“Friendsgiving?” Peter tilts his head, latching onto that.
They had meant to do that with the Avengers, this year. Since a lot of them don’t have family to go to… They take the time out of their schedules to do this together. Peter hadn’t been able to go to one yet, but he’d been so excited to have one this year.
It’d been forever since he had a proper holiday like that. Halloween, Thanksgivings, birthdays- when May died, he and Ben had a hard time trying to celebrate. And then Ben died before the next one. Then foster care made holidays feel so… empty. Like they didn’t matter.
And Christmas… He was bitten a week before it, and was homeless for long enough that it became a bitter thing.
But he celebrated his birthday with the Avengers, and Ned. His last birthday celebration had been just him, May, and Ben. And suddenly holidays sounded fun. Peter already missed out on his Halloween plans with Pepper and Tony, and now he’s probably about to miss Friendsgiving in their world. And Dick just wants to… not go?
“Why wouldn’t you go?”
“Well, there’s… You know…” Dick clears his throat, and Peter, decidedly, does not know. Donna shares a look with Peter, but there’s something in her expression like she might have an idea what’s going on. “There’s probably only so much time where you can be here, and I’d rather spend it with you.”
Oh. Oh.
Dick was worried… that it would take up their time?
“Friendsgiving has, like, a lot of people. It’s not just me and my friends…. Which is still a lot, but- Well, like, Tim and his friends join too, and-” he turns to Donna. “Aren’t the Oldies coming too? Bruce might have mentioned it.”
“As far as I’m aware, yeah. Diana is coming, and Kara mentioned Clark and Lois wanted to come. Not to mention the Allen family is coming, pretty much all of them. It’s a full dinner table. It’s the first time everyone’s schedules ended up aligning so perfectly. And since we don’t do a big event for Christmas, I think everyone’s sort of in agreement that this will be our big party for the year.” Donna shrugs, then frowns a bit, glancing at Peter. “…I can see why you might not want to go.”
“Yeah.” Dick shrugs too, and it’s like… They’re playing a mirror act. Peter almost laughs- they both have their backs on the door frame, arms crossed, same thoughtful expression.
“Is that, like, a bad thing? Everyone in one spot?” He can’t think of a reason why they should miss it. Dick shakes his head. Donna has a curious tilt to her grin. “Don’t you want to hang out with everyone?”
“Well, of course I do.” Dick laughs nervously.
“Then why miss it?” Peter pets Haley’s head, trying not to ramble but missing the mark. “I heard they’re a lot of fun! I mean- I haven’t gone to one. I wouldn’t know. But Clint said they’re fun, and he’s a fun guy, so I think he’d know. The Avengers do one every time they get a chance. They like holidays and birthdays and stuff like that.”
“I think he’s worried about overwhelming you, kiddo.” Donna points out.
Peter’s brow furrows, and her statement is confirmed by Dick’s small sigh. Peter sort of forgot to include himself in the plans…For some reason, he imagined Dick would just drop him off with Alfred. That’s sort of what his parents used to do, when they went away for work or had events and couldn’t look after him.
He was at Ben and May’s house just as much as he’d been at his own. That’s where they left him when they went on their last trip.
But Dick was thinking of bringing Peter with him, if he went. And he cared about how Peter felt about it…
Here’s the thing though: Dick might be a little off the mark.
Sure, Peter is anxious. He’s a lot of anxious, a lot of the time. He’s always wary around new adults if he doesn’t know them, but if they’re vouched for, they’re easier to get along with. If they’re heroes, and if they’re Dick’s friends, or Bruce’s, or Tim’s, whoever’s, then Peter should be fine, actually.
He’d been nervous around Donna for a minute because it was the first time he was meeting one of Dick’s friends, and he didn’t know where exactly to fit in. And it would sort of be the same if he went to a party and was surrounded by them.
But again… They’ve been vouched for.
And Peter?
He has wanted to know what the other heroes are like, since he got here. It was on the back of his mind, but come on. He was Dr. Banner and Tony’s biggest fan since he was practically a baby, and now they’re his teachers.
And, like, the teaching thing? That happened before Tony took him in. When they were using Parker as an information resource for those kidnapped kids and the people that took them (that ended up taking Peter), they gained his trust by showing him around sections of the Tower and asking him questions while they toured.
And it turned into asking questions while watching Dr. Banner work, and then asking questions while Tony showed him holograms and projects- but the questions turned away from their investigation and towards teaching Peter.
That hadn’t been all of their own idea…
He might have, maybe, a teensy weensy bit, leaned into it.
So what? Who is anyone to judge him on wanting to learn from the most brilliant minds on Earth? He’d be a complete f*cking moron to miss that chance. So he manipulated them a little bit so he could learn from them? It worked out, no one got hurt, and Peter got teachers out of it! And now, he gets to train with and learn from the f*cking Avengers on a daily basis.
Peter soooooooooooo wants to meet the Justice League. And if he just so happens to ask them calculated questions enough to learn something from them that he can use… that’s between him and himself.
“If this is because I avoided you guys for like, an entire month, I should point out that was because of extenuating circ*mstances.” Peter tells Dick.
“I know that.”
“Like, getting alternate dimensioned.” He adds on. Donna’s grin and Dick’s frown both grow.
“So… you would want to maybe… go?” Dick offers tentatively.
“Sure,” Peter contains his excitement so Cool and Collected. Donna perks up, looking at Dick like ‘See?’ and Peter wonders if maybe he should have eavesdropped on their conversation more. “I think it’d be fun. I also have to ask Superman why his suit involves bright red panties.”
Donna barks out a laugh. “Please do!”
Dick covers his smile with his hand, shaking his head. “It’s in Jump City this year, right?”
“Yep. Bruce banned us from using the Watchtower again after that one incident where Bart and Cassie found the fire extinguisher, and no one else’s house is big enough for all of us. Except maybe the Manor, but I don’t want to stress Alfie out like that.” Donna replies.
“We could zeta there…” Dick starts. But then pauses, and Peter can practically see the second the lightbulb moment hits him. “Or we could do a road trip!”
Peter has flashbacks to Alberta and her janky windows and duct tape. “Road trip.”
“Yeah! I mean, sure, we could zeta there, get there pretty much instantly. Orrrr we could go on a road trip! I was kind of struggling to think of what we could do together in Bludhaven for a while, but on a road trip, there’s lot of stuff we can do? It’s about, like, five days? Six days? If we take the car, that is. And this also fits all the marks, right?”
“What marks?” Donna asks.
“Well, Peter and I were gonna hunker down here to wait out the Mysterio stuff.” Dick tells her. Peter hadn’t known that Donna meant ‘all’ about Peter when she said Dick had told her earlier. “But this gets him away from Gotham, and you know, you can see a lot more of our universe on a road trip than you could at home.”
At home. Peter ignores how good it feels to think ‘home’ being here applies to him as well.
It sounds crazy, honestly. Alberta The Car is not a car that could be taken on a cross country road trip- literally coast to coast. And Peter should be staying at least near Gotham, for Tony.
But.
Dick just mentioned there’s a way to instant travel. He could ask more about that later, and they could shape out a plan that involves a way to zap back to Gotham without worrying that Tony would be upset with him. And he’s right. It hits all the marks of Peter having to get out of Gotham.
And he never got the opportunity to go on a road trip with his dad. Peter’s never been on one before either. His dad had loved to travel, maybe he would have taken Peter with him if he had lived long enough to. It… would be nice to go on one with Dick. To do something that he could have shared with that version of his father.
Tony would understand. Peter knows he would.
“It… does fill the requirements Bruce gave…”
Dick cheers loudly, throwing his hands up in the air. Donna laughs, double high fiving him like he’s waiting for. Haley barks at his excitement on Peter’s lap, not knowing what’s so cool but wanting to join in anyway. Dick comes over and flops down onto the bed next to Peter, tugging him close and petting Haley. “Road trip time! Does that sound fun, girl?”
And in this moment, Peter feels like everything make more sense than it has in years.
