Chapter Text
The correctional centre was chronically understaffed, severely overcrowded and as dense as oily tin. It’s walls shifted from yellow to grey. Looking into the cheap plastic lights for too long led more often than not, to flickering purple dots filling up a dry vision. The lack of breeze or any form of fresh air had Peter nauseous. He'd contemplated escape more times than he cared to admit. Of course he’d never actually escape. After all, he was just a young man who had ‘made a mistake.’ All things considering his sentence was pretty light and he knew not to jeopardise his identity with such a reckless move.
He only had to last twelve more hours. Twelve exhausting more hours. Then he’d be free… or as free as an ex-con could be he supposed. Which statistically, doesn't bode well. He ignored this fact that blares in his mind. His hands were bony. He gripped thin malnourished arms.
One of his cellmates looked up at him from next to their shared toilet. He was new to the cell but Peter was quite sure he’d served time before, If only because he was mostly convinced he’d detained the guy once on a patrol.
The man didn’t seem know that though. He looked up almost curiously. “So, were you headed to Parker? Once you get out of here.”
For all his internal planning Peter wasn’t too sure himself.
He couldn’t bear to impose on Aunt May, the fit she had when she’d found out about the drugs was enough of the disappointment he could handle. Enough of her he could handle. He couldn’t go back to his dorm. His college wasn’t all too happy about the criminal activity he’d committed on their grounds. The fact that he’d been found out during a bag check was not exactly forgiving.
He answered despite his raspy voice. “Not sure." He looked out the barred window. "Bounce around a little, get a job... Find Ricky.”
The man nodded despite not knowing who 'Ricky' was. The prisoner closed his eyes and leaned back. “Y'know...If I ever see you back." He paused to cough. "I'll carve out those baby blues.” The man spoke harmful words but seemed to try to sound encouraging.
Peter huffed and put on his best intimidating face. He missed the mask. “I’d like to see you try.”
A chilling laugh echoed through the room. He couldn't place who it belonged to.
A small but familiar Dominican man with a curled moustache and one of the most heinous tie dye shirts peter had ever seen approached. He had mischief in his eyes and met Peter out on the street.
Ricky smiled widely before patting Peter on the shoulder and laughing. “I’ve come to pick you up!”
Peter looked around, noticing no on else familiar before looking back. ”You have a car?”
“Car? This is New York Parker, we walk!” Rick responded.
Peter looked towards the cracking pavement. "I'm pretty sure that's offensive Rick..."
"Peter, if that offensive then I'm not sure how you'll react to my place."
Peter shrugged not quite knowing how to respond. Rick was a strange man, and one could never be sure how to broach conversation with him. Peter began to walk with Ricky to wherever the man's place was, knowing that no matter where he was led it would certainly be better than a makeshift web hammock. He paced himself slowly beside Ricky.
Ricky was only three years older than Peter, a proud cheerful man of twenty three. Peter wasn’t quite sure why his old cellmate had an interest to offer the help but he wasn’t quite in the mindset to refuse. Ricky had been a dealer, and was lucky to leave such little evidence of his crimes to get such a little sentence. At first Peter wondered if Ricky took a kinship to him partly because their crimes had been so similar.
Six months later and he new better. Ricky was dealing again and he was sure the guy was in need of a new ‘business’ partner. Rick was kind in the way a bank dealer was kind. Peter thought if the man hadn't been born in the circumstances he'd have bet on him being a good businessman.
He was going to refuse the man's offer of course. Spiderman doesn’t deal drugs. Peter Parker doesn’t either but being found with a bag full of them after a particularly disastrous patrol may have suggested otherwise. He only needs a few days to get back off his feet, get a job and get enough money for a motel. After he’d move on from there.
Ricky’s place consisted of a blow up mattress, a couch, and a plastic white round table that looked suspiciously like it was from every gangster movie ever. Peter wondered if the man was trying to impress him.
Ricky pointed to the couch. “Viola! Just dump your bag wherever.”
Peter stood still in the walkway, pondering the heat of the room. “It’s hot in here.” It shouldn't have been.
“Blame the landlord. He thinks adding a fan counts as ventilation.”
Peter felt his hand twitch inwards and sighed internally. He had things to do. Leads to follow. There was no way no one hadn’t noticed Spiderman's six month break. His eyes drifted towards the couch and he felt his limbs start to crumble in exhaustion. Spiderman could wait another night. He collapsed into the firm yellow cushions and pondered at his bag. All he really had was his phone in which he was sure had no credit, and from what he remembered maybe thirty dollars in cash.
Peter didn’t remember waking up. He didn’t remember how he’d ended up jogging through the streets in the dark cold morning but he figured it had something to do with his half arachnid biology and the horrible climate of the basement. For a man whose body becomes dormant in the cold his hatred of heat had carried over after the bite.
He doesn't really know how his thoughts had jumbled together into a course of action but he wasn’t surprised when he found himself outside Stark Tower, just faraway enough to not be detected by the cameras. If Peter had his way he’d never set foot in that tower again. The inhabitants were nosy and arrogant, the team was not all up to what the media made it out to be and in all honestly he never seemed to have pleasant time around the Avengers.
Cold air nipped at his ears. He needed warmth otherwise he’d end up out cold on the pavement. Winter was on its way, the hardest season for Spider-work. His highly sensitive hands and feet always became chaffed and uncontrollably frozen in his old suit and no matter the heating instalments a suit as tight as Peters always had horrible temperature control.
The old suit had it’s problems, Peter still missed it...and Tony would certainly be a dick about him losing it.
...In all hindsight his plan hadn’t been the best, though there was not much to be done when late to a particularly important chemistry lecture. Peter kicked his foot out in frustration, remembering the events that lead to Spider Man's disappearance.
It had been a normal day patrolling really, not much crime around eleven in the morning but Peter had been making the best of it, trying out new types of web as he went. Some were stickier than normal, others snapped at the first sign of friction. It seemed like a good uneventful day to test out his new batches.
And just like the day it had been the standard drug deal. Two shady guys bargaining over a shady bag. They were newbies, amateurs. Peter could tell by the way they hunched and held the bag like it contained a bomb. They talked in a way only dealers who've seen shitty movies go and spoke in tropes.
“You got the stuff?”
“Yeah. Boss expects distribution to go well so don’t disappoint .”
Peter knew he should have been listening to them, whatever they are saying could be important. His attention had wavered though and he focused in on the heavy looking bag. The sweetest scent of strawberry filled Peters senses and before he could stop himself he leaned in almost mesmerised. For almost a second he wanted it, needed t—He snapped himself away, knowing whatever was inside that bag was dangerous enough to tempt. He had half a mind to call someone higher up on the roster than ‘friendly neighbourhood Spiderman.’ He wouldn’t though.
Peter prepared to lace his voice in sarcasm before jumping down. “Hey fellas! Sorry to interrupt your whole criminal bad guy shtick—but I don't suppose you could hand that bag over?”
Two seconds ticked by as he awaited for the frivolous moment they scattered like mice.
He flicked his hand forward at the first step aiming for the bag, and his lenses widened as he saw what came out wasn’t web. The white threads were jagged and swung through the air in a lightning motion with sharp mesmerising shards poking out and releasing a million refraction's of light around the alley. Before he could take it back the webs hit the bag with a fierce thunk. Bad Batch. Peter knew pulling back would only lead to the dealers head having a fearsome greeting with the alley pavement so his only option was to run behind the men, attached by a dangerously sharp leash. His webs malfunctioning wouldn’t be the only scorn of the day though.
His feet patterned leaps at a time as the men took clumsy twists and turned through the alleyways, finally entering some form of old warehouse. Peter hadn’t paid much attention to the old building as he watched the men quickly ditch the bag he was attached to inside. He didn’t bother to follow them. They were just clumsy lackeys who’d put too much of a fight and with Peters webs in such a state he couldn’t risk harming them.
His curiosity took over once he finally had the bag, nearly ripping the zipper open and gazing in only to be flushed with the most potent sickly sweet scent he’d caught only moments before.
It was like children's medicine, pink and bright. If It wasn’t for the circumstances and intoxicating smell Peter would have assumed it was. He’d never encountered such a substance as this and his mind raced and the possibilities about what it could be.
He wasn’t allowed much time to ponder though. When the calm feigned a precise settle and only the sounds of dripping pipes and his own elated breath could be heard through his buzzing ears, a hint of smoke arose past the bag.
It was enough for Peter to lift his head and identify the precise smell. It was Toxic and migraine inducing. Though he was Spiderman even with his heightened senses and smokey warning, There was not much to be done when gasoline met match, and fire struck out.
He remembers red. The bright red flames surrounding him and an explosive display. His tight red suit melting from and into his flesh like melting ice. He hardly felt the burn though, some lucky mix of adrenaline and shock was enough mercy to give him a painless albeit staggered escape. Still he felt his damaged skin fibres reach out and latch to the melting latex, fixing the suit to his body and saving him from the burns he’s sure no normal person would endure. He gripped the bag tightly as he made his way through and only came into consciousness in spouts of heavy breathing and screams until he finally made his way safe.
His dorm room, empty during the day, allowed him enough safety to deal with most of his injuries. He had pulled his suit of like wax, ripping it from the clutch of his cheek harshly while disinfecting cuts along his legs in a way clumsier than he usually performed.
Peter thinks, if only he hadn’t the need to care so much. If only he had taken the fall to skip just one class, he wouldn’t have ended up in the crammy hell of a correctional centre.
He hadn’t trusted to leave the bad alone in his dorm, who knows what his roommates would do if they found it? In hindsight though Peter probably should have trusted himself not to look so guilty walking around with what he was sure was contraband.
“Can we just check through your bag son? ”
Watching a mountain of pills and powder fall across the table was more frightening than the first time he met the Avengers.
Tony’s lab was a marvel. Even with their tenuous relationship at best Peter still missed the day’s Tony would take him here to try out some new web slingers or spider-suit. It seemed every wall was filled with some fantastical contraption straight out of a book and Peter, still young and blind, found fun amongst the dark world of heroism. Peter even now could appreciate the scientific wonders amongst the lab but apart from that all that really filled his mind was a petty sort of fury. Why had a teenager been allowed in here? Who allows a kid into his type of world? Even though Tony didn’t and still doesn’t know who Spiderman really is, it was obvious Peter was young. Inexperienced. He should have been pushed away, but now he was a part of something he can never really leave.
It had been a few years since Peter had found himself inside the tower and he hadn’t a clue the A.I’s name anymore. “Tell Tony I’m here.” He yelled out while tugging awkwardly on his makeshift mask. It was an ugly purple scarf nicked from an unsuspecting balcony, he’d have to remember to return it later on.
Instead of the A.I a dishevelled voice answered back. “Who’s there!”
“Stark?” he swivelled around.
“...Kid?”
Tony appeared lit only by fluorescent machine lights, a gun in hand slowly being lowered and a wide eyed look upon his face.
Peter faced away. “Don’t call me kid.”
“Where have you been?”
“Always quick with the questions.”
Tony's emotions hardened and Peter figured maybe he should act a little nicer when he wanted something from the man... but he couldn’t find the niceties within himself.
“Fuck.” the man swore tired with worry, “Your little disappearing act has been all over the news! I tried to call and guess what? Radio silence. I reckon a few questions are certainly warranted.”
Peter folded his arm. “Fine. Shoot.”
“Where have you been?”
“Here and there.”
“Are you safe?”
Peter thought about his roommate, the basement, his financial situation. “Yep.”
“What happened to my suit?”
Peter became stumped at that one. “Yeah …about that.”
“No.”
He clasped his hands together. “C’mon! I really need one.”
“Listen kid.” Tony rubbed his temple.
“Don’t call me kid. I turned twenty like five months ago.”
Tony raised an eyebrow at the information but continued. “I’ll stop when you stop whining like a little kid. I’m no charity Spiderman.”
Peter stilled, knowing where this as headed. “What do you want?”
Tony laughed halfheartedly. “Smart kid. Follow me.”
Tony remembers the first suit he ever made for Spiderman. It was a short, easy project he’d worked on before he even met the kid. Back then the vigilante had run around in some hastily sewn up hoodie with goggles. Tony had been tempted to locate the kid, check out whether those photos and videos were true or not. Of course before he could the young mutant had found himself in a little more trouble than he could handle and after a rushed meeting and a little measurements the rest was history.
“I can’t keep giving you shit if you wont play team.”
“I’m not joining the Avengers.” Peter snapped.
Tony remembers the first time the kid refused. After almost a year of fangirling over the heroes the kid had straight up refused, spouting some excuse about his civilian issues. Tony was sure now it had been high school, kid stuff but back then he’d been eager to brush off the thought.
Even now though Tony wasn’t quite sure why Spiderman so fiercely refused.
“Yeah yeah you're a lone wolf or whatever. Look, all I'm asking for is a little cooperation. You've heard of the recent mutant attacks, right?”
“The what?”
Tony stumbled. “Have you been living under a rock these past months?”
“I've been preoccupied.” He mumbled.
A million worries sullied his train of thought. He wondered if the kid had been kidnapped, or caught up in some scheme.
“Well anyway. The teams stumped on why they’re happening.” I’m stumped. “So many in such a little time, with almost all of them not retaining memory of their attacks. Seemingly normal people. You're closer to the citizens than all of us are. You could be vital in helping figure this out. They are your lot after all.”
“My lot?”
“You know, civilians, mutants.”
Spiderman seemed to bite back his tongue before replying. “Fine, I’ll keep a ear out... Can I get another suit now?”
“That depends. What happened to the suit?”
Peter grinned. “It melted.”
It took a second for Tony to comprehend that. “What.”
“Followed some drug dealers into a warehouse that had just so happened to have walls painted in gasoline. There was a fire. It melted.” His voice didn't waver.
Tony wondered if he actually wanted all his questions answered. “Fine. Let's look through some then, and get you out of that ridiculous scarf.”
Tony wasn’t surprised when the kid picked the newest model. Spiderman could sniffed out technological marvels like a hound dog, it was a talent really. The kid had expensive taste that was for sure.
“How’s the heaters in this one?”
Stark Scoffed. “Better than the old one I assure you. The A.I has perfect voice recognition. You know, if you choose to use it." He let himself sound judgy. "The fabric's stronger hat's for sure. I also assume this one is less likely to… melt.”
It took a couple moments for him to change. Spiderman seemed to visibly relaxed when he came out with the mask on.
Tony sighed. “Before you go, remember my request. This isn’t about the team, this is about seemingly normal mutants attacking the city. I’m not asking you as a teammate or partner, I’m just asking for a favour.”
“Like I said Stark, Ears out. I’ll be seeing you… whenever.”
Before Tony could mutter a goodbye the kid was headfirst out the window and he was on his way to another drink.
The wind whipped and slashed at Peter though he couldn’t feel past his smile. He reached out his hand and let himself fall before flicking back up over the sleeping city. If he paid enough attention he could probably look out for criminals, do his job.
Tonight wasn’t the night though, and for those moments he let himself revel in the wondrous feeling of being Spiderman that had captured his heart those years ago.
Everything was so much clearer up high and for the first time in months Peter let out a triumphant howl that echoed past the birds and to the bleak beautiful city moon.