Chapter Text
Peter screwed up. Again. Mr. Stark would’ve had a field day with this one. Because somehow, somehow, he got the attention of Nick Fury.
I’m so fucked.
“You know, managing to sneak right up to the compound isn’t a very easy feat.”
Easy? It wasn’t supposed to be easy?
“Uhm- thank you. Sir?”
Fury chuckled, shaking his head. The man stood below him, a few feet away from Peter’s perch on a tree. A quick glance around proved Fury was alone. For now, at least.
“Someone’s taught you well. Tell me, who are your parents?”
“..your mom”
Fury paused then let out a small chuckle. He nodded, “Should’ve expected that one.”
Peter shrugged. He crouched down, his wings dipping low behind him. But not low enough for Fury to grab. If someone touched even one feather on his wings, he’d-
“Thinking hard, Peter?”
Peter froze. Ice chilled up his veins, freezing his limbs into place. It dipped into his heart, creeping into his brain and stopping anything and everything.
Nick tilted his head to the side, “What? Surprised?”
“I-“
“What?”
“..how?”
His wings puffed up, the feathers rustling. He slowly rose to his feet. An undying anger filled his veins, melting the ice. Pumping his heart faster and faster until he couldn’t think straight.
Nick shrugged, “we’ve been tracking you down for a while. Ever since you first showed up. When was that, two, three weeks ago?”
“..around that, yeah.”
Nick nodded, flicking his sunglasses shut, “You're not an easy man to follow around. Or should I say kid?”
How much does Fury know?! Oh god, I’m so fucking screwed-
“Don’t panic. Well, not more than you already are.”
“Yeah like that’s going to help.”
“I’m not going to arrest you.”
“Like you could even catch m-“
“-kid. Not now.”
Peter took a deep breath. At this point he was just rambling through his fear. He didn’t know what to do. He could easily fly away- but what if Fury had a sniper hidden? He didn’t think anyone was nearby, but that didn’t mean they weren’t hiding.
Fury sighed, digging his hand into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a thick rolled up wad of papers. Unrolling it let out sharp crackles through the trees. Nick held out the papers, first page up front.
“Can you read this?”
“Am I blind?”
Fury sighed, “just get down here.”
“If you promise not to-“
“-hur you, arrest you, experiment on you, the works.”
Peter blinked. He knew Fury could be reasonable- kind, at most. He just.. never thought he would do this.
He jumped down. His wings beat lightly, letting him land softly. The limbs clicked and shuffled, folding softly behind him softly. Fury watched with curious eyes.
Adoption papers. That’s what the stack was. Transfer of guardianship. From his landlord, even though he barely counted, to the Avengers. All the members. Mr. Stark. Steve. Bucky. Bruce. Clint. Natasha.
Peter was thankful Thor wasn't listed. Even though he would’ve been the easiest one to trick into this.
Because that’s what would need to be done. Trick all the avengers into signing guardianship. None of them would ever do this without questioning it. Or never seeing it in the first place.
Especially not for Peter of all people. Why would any of them care? They hardly met him. Some never did.
He tried to ignore the pang in his heart that opened like a black hole. Because that was his family. His everything. And right here, right now, he had a chance to take it all back. To become whole again.
But what if they were better off without him? Maybe the reason everything fell apart was because of Peter. Mr. Stark never should’ve died. Never should have invented time travel.
He did that for Peter.
May never would’ve died. She never would have stepped in the way of that glider. Never would’ve bled to death in his arms-
That was because of him.
And he had a chance now. A decision to make. Step away. Face the consequences Fury had set in his future for him.
Or take the deal. No arrest. No consequences. For him, at least. His family? Everything would happen, all over again.
Unless..
Unless he could stop it. He could change everything. Keep everyone out of danger. Make all the right decisions this time.
Maybe he could save everyone this time.
“..what do I have to do?”
“-can you not? Just, set it down, gent-“
The agent dropped the computer into the box. Three feet. He dropped it three feet. Maybe four.
Are you fucking kidding me?
The agent glanced up at Peter and shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. To him. It wasn’t a big deal, to this big ass sunglasses jerk-
Peter took a deep breath. He ran a hand down his face, pausing as he saw another agent ripping his drawings off the wall. He froze, eyes wide.
“Wh- hold on, be gentle!-“
The agent didn’t glance over her shoulder. At least only the edges ripped. Thank the gods above for the small things, he supposed.
His bedsheets were yanked off. He was pretty sure he heard the bed frame jiggle. He took a shaking breath, pressing his fist to his mouth.
Another agent shoved the bed sheets into one box. Somehow managing to fit it all into one box. He had some pretty big bed sheets. Some birds weren’t supposed to be cold for very long.
Everything on his desk was being shoved into a box. Not that he had much to begin with, and even then it wasn’t the best equipment- but still.
“Please be gen-“
The agent shoved a cup of pencils in the box, no doubt scratching whatever was below. The cup was metal, and it was shitty. But it was his!
“You know what? Out- everyone out!”
Only one agent paused to look at him. The younger one, in her early twenties. She glanced around. She was the only one treating his objects with somewhat respect.
“Alright guys, he can take it from here.”
The other agents paused, glancing over at her. After a silent argument, one man sighed, dropping his box. The woman next to him set the box down, but not so gently. The objects inside clashed.
All four agents left, the youngest one glancing over her shoulder at him. She frowned softly, an apologetic look in her gaze. But she still left.
Peter collapsed on the bare bed, holding his head in his hands. He knew it would be tough getting back into the swing of things- pun aside.
But he didn’t think it would be this hard. He glanced around, his entire apartment trashed. Boxes half filled, nothing organized neatly inside, papers half thrown about. Bills. Photos.
He tried to take photos of things he enjoyed nowadays. That restaurant down the street. The chef had a soft spot for him apparently.
The skyscraper three blocks away that gave him a rush to jump off of.
Peter sighed, standing up. He took a deep breath, calming the anxiety rattling in his chest- banging at his ribcage like it was a cage.
Peter took out his phone, gently setting it on the now empty desk. He put on a playlist he had saved for years. One he played with Ned, sometimes with May.
It still brought joy to his heart, warming it from its ice cold state. He felt a sense of calm and content weave its way into his veins and senses.
In the end, it wasn’t too hard to pack. He heaved the boxes already packed onto the bed, rearranging the contents to fit nicely. Then he went about carefully taking down his pictures and drawings, folding them and setting them on the sides of the boxes.
Next he went about and took down his lamp, his cat clock he got at a thrift store that somehow worked but was always too loud, and his stash of emergency food behind a fake wall in a cabinet.
Everything took about an hour. Maybe an hour and a half. It wasn’t too bad. But he did need help carrying the boxes down. Thankfully that nice agent from earlier stayed behind just in case.
He peeked around the boxes in his arms currently, his eyes wide in surprise at her. She waved, swiftly taking a box from him and setting it in the back of the car.
“Uh- thanks. I have one more box. And a lamp, it’s uh-“
“-too big for a box? Don't worry, I’ll get it,” she smiled softly at him before walking past into the apartment building.
He sighed in relief, gently setting the box next to the other one. He hurried back inside, taking the final box as the agent took the lamp. The two walked down the stairs in silence. But it was a comfortable silence.
He glanced over at her as he set the final box down, the lamp being placed across all three. There was something about her eyes, it just seemed all too familiar.
Was that-
“We’re placing you in a hotel for the night. Is that alright?”
Peter paused then nodded. He didn’t mind.
But those familiar eyes wouldn’t get out of his head.
By the morning, everything he owned was packed into boxes. Three, to be exact. It was a pitiful sight. The boxes fit into the back of an suv.
Classic. Great going, Fury.
Peter got to sit in the passenger seat. He stared out the window the whole time. He has yet to take his mask off. But the rest of his suit was replaced by regular clothes- his wings shrunken down to hide under his t-shirt.
The ride to the compound wasn’t too long. Around two hours. Maybe three, at most. Peter didn’t say a word the whole ride. A different agent drove him. Peter assumed he would meet up with Fury at the compound.
More agents waited by the front door. They escorted him up the steps, through the front door, past the staff and into an elevator. He wasn’t told anything about where he was staying. He could only hope it wasn’t too bad of a room.
In the end, it was the exact same floor as the rest of the avengers. Clint was in the living room as the elevator doors opened. He perked up at the sound of the elevator reaching its floor.
He raised an eyebrow, “..hi?”
The agent beside Peter sighed. Peter kept his gaze down, even though Clint wouldn’t be able to tell. It- hurt. Seeing Clint so happy. Healthy.
And Peter wasn’t in the picture.
The agent nudged him gently, guiding him past the living room and down the hall. They passed at least four or five rooms, on both sides, before the woman stopped at one on the left.
She glanced at him, a soft look in her gaze, before she clicked open the door.
The handle makes a click every time it closes and opens. Good to know.
The room was so familiar it ached. The same bed. The same window on the far wall- the same door leading to a bathroom on the left. The same nightstand. He knew that this was the same as any other room, but it still hurt.
The agent cleared her throat, “Fury will be here soon. He’s clearing up the documents.”
“..and Clint?”
She shrugged, “He’s refusing to sign it. Says it’s suspicious.”
“..and if he doesn’t?”
His whole plan rested on everyone singing it. If this goes out the window- he doesn’t know what he’ll do.
I’ll be screwed. That’s what’ll happen.
Aunt May would hate that he’s thinking this way. She’d probably say something like, “Mr. Parker! You know better than you say things like that!”
But she really wouldn’t be mad. More amused than anything. It used to take a lot for him to curse. Now it was as easy as breathing.
I’m sorry May.
“-kid?”
Peter paused, his thoughts rushing away. He glanced up at the agent, the woman slowly raising an eyebrow. Yet her gaze was full of concern.
“..uhm- sorry, what were you saying?”
“I was saying that Fury can convince him. It’ll just take a while.”
“How long do I have?”
“If everyone else is on board, you can have all the time in the world.”
Hah.
Peter couldn’t help but snort. He tried to cover it with a cough, but the look the woman gave him stung a little.
Since when was I so rude?
“Are you ready to go?”
“Go where?”
“Up to the conference room. Fury wants to introduce you to everyone.”
Right now?
Peter didn’t want to go now. He wanted time to take it all in- take a deep breath. Take in the familiar smells. The familiar feeling settling deep in his chest.
His wings puffed up, “uhm..”
The agent gave him another look, “I can give you five minutes. At most.”
Peter sighed, his wings drooping. He glanced around. It’s not like he could get any packing done in five minutes. That would take at least ten. Maybe fifteen.
“No, it’s fine.”
The agent raised an eyebrow before she gave a light shrug. She opened the door for Peter, following him out. She led the way down the hall and up a flight of stairs.
Why they couldn’t take the elevator, he had a feeling. The conference room could only be reached through a flight of stairs, either up or down. Made it harder for someone to sneak up on them. Not impossible. Just more difficult.
Especially when the stairs are so damn loud.
The sounds of their footsteps combined bounced around in his head, growing more painful with every bounce- every step. Peter sighed at the landing, rubbing the inside of his wrist.
The woman didn’t glance at him as she knocked three times, twice, then four times. She paused, standing back. In perfect view of the camera stationed in the wood. The wood is laced with metal- something strong. So strong Hulk couldn’t get in, that one time he went on a rampage through the whole building.
The door swung up, chatter reaching Peter’s ears. Everyone on the team was there. Except for Clint and Bruce. He wasn’t sure where Bruce was, but a quick scan of the building with his ears told him the man wasn’t on the premises.
Probably off on a retreat. Good. He deserves it.
I’m sorry I ruined it Bruce.
Fury stood on the far side of the room, an electronic pad in his hand. He sighed softly, his gaze flickering up to the agent at Peter’s side. The man nodded once, the woman nodding back before abandoning Peter.
Thanks for throwing me to the wolves, whatever your name was.
What is it with SHIELD agents and never giving up their names?
“-are you?”
Oh shit.
At some point, during Peter’s deep thinking, the Avengers had stopped arguing and turned to him. His wings ruffled, feeling the need to make himself bigger. Even if they couldn’t see it, and the wings were as small and pitiful as they could be.
It just served to make him feel more pitiful.
“..what?”
Tony waved his hand, scoffing lightly, “Fury says we need to sign these guardianship papers. Over you, I’m assuming my. Why?”
Oh.
Peter hesitated, opening and closing his mouth for a moment behind the mask, “uhm.. probably because I’d get into trouble and someone would need to be called to help.”
It’s happened much more than once. Probably fifteen times?
If you didn’t include the couple of times that Karen called for him.
“..and you're assuming you're going to get in trouble? In what, middle school? Let me guess, you're a little kid who’s got nothing better to do than run around playing hero? Fury, why, god almighty why, are we being asked to look after a ki-“
“-I’m not a kid.”
I stopped being a kid the minute I was bitten.
Tony paused, raising an eyebrow, then huffed. He leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the over. He dropped the pamphlet of papers onto the table with a firm slap.
“Then how old are you?”
Peter hesitated, dread filling his chest. If they knew how old he was, which he was pretty sure he was 17 now, they’d make him stop. Tony knew Spiderman before he knew Peter. He knew Peter was good at the job- knew how to handle himself.
But that was a different Tony Stark. A dead Tony Stark.
This Tony Stark was not the same.
Sure, they acted the same and looked the same- but this one, this one was happier. Calmer. Not in the moment, of course, but he seemed healthier.
Like he wasn’t having nightmares anymore. Lucky Mr. Stark.
“I c-“
“-he can’t tell you. It’s part of the deal.”
Peter glanced up at Fury with wide eyes. Fury nodded politely to the kid, his one eye gleaming with a sense of calm and protectiveness.
“Another part of the deal: there will be no taking off his mask.”
Tony huffed, swinging side to side gently in the chair. Steve raised an eyebrow, sharing a look with Bucky, before the leader turned to Peter.
“Nice to see you again.”
Peter hesitated, “uhm- you too, Cap.”
Peter’s gaze darted from Steve to Bucky. Neither looked as though they slept much last night. But Bucky looked healthier. His bruises are already beginning to fade. Peter was willing to bet his stab wound was already beginning to stitch itself up.
Lucky duck.
Sure, he didn’t get hurt too often. But when he did, it took longer than it used to. Maybe a day or so longer. It was- hard to get used to.
“You saved me.”
“Heh?”
Bucky nodded to Peter, “you saved me. From that HYDRA doctor. Last night.”
Oh. Right. The whole reason I’m in this situation in the first place.
“Oh uh, your welcome- really, it was no big deal, those HYDRA guys had it comin’-“
Fury gave him a look that shut him up. Right. He always talked too much. He had a tendency to ramble when he was nervous. It’s good to know that habit hasn't changed like everything else.
Bucky nodded to the packet of papers, “I’ll do it.”
What?
Steve, (when did he become Steve?), nodded too. He picked up one of the many pens in the middle of the table, signing his name at the bottom of the last page. And every other place marked with an x and highlighted.
Well shit.
Peter glanced between Steve and Bucky, watching them sign these random papers. For him. They hardly knew him. He met Steve once- twice, maybe, if you count last night. And Bucky once.
This is going better than I thought.
Tony scoffed, shaking his head, “Nuh-uh. I’m not doing this for some random kid.”
“Not a-“
“-kid, I know, I know. God.”
Fury sighed, his eye twitching ever so slightly. He spared a glance to Peter, his gaze full of sympathy.
“What would make you sign the papers then?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a name? A face? Some reason other than whatever you gave me?”
Wanda shook her head, leaning back in her seat. She had stayed silent the whole time, barely moving. Her gaze darted to Peter, a small shine to her gaze.
Oh shit.
Please don’t look into my mind, please don’t, please don't-
“I agree.”
Tony threw his hands up, “oh thank god, someone has a sense of logic.”
Wanda shook her head, turning away from Peter, “No- I agree with Steve. And Bucky.”
What?
As Wanda signed the papers, Tony sighed and held his head in his hands. Natasha gave him a bored and annoyed look. Barely noticeable, if you don’t know her very well.
Vision glanced at Peter, fiddling with the pen in his hand. He shared a look with Wanda before he turned to Fury.
“I understand the reasoning behind privacy, and the mask, but you must give us some wiggle room here.”
Fury raised an eyebrow. A robot, the robot, was arguing with him. After a moment he sighed. If that wasn’t a big smack of reality, he wasn’t sure what was.
“Alright. Fine.”
Oh shit.
“His name is Peter. He used to live in Queens before here. He’s a new vigilante. His favorite food is pizza. Pepperoni to be specific. He has Iron Man merch in his room. Just one thing though.”
Ow. My ego is bruised.
That is what you say when this happens, right?
Tony paused, turning to Peter. He stared with wide eyes for a moment before letting out a soft laugh. He shook his head.
He held up his hands, “He’s got you there kid. Alright, alright. Which merchandise is it? A t-shirt? Helmet?”
That helmet doesn’t fit me anymore. Fuck you.
Peter huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “None of your business.”
Vision held up a hand, silencing Tony’s chuckles for the moment, “I was hoping for the reason he is here, Mr. Fury.”
Fury nodded slowly, glancing down at the pad in his hand. Within a moment, a projector flickered across the room, behind Fury.
On the screen was Peter. Gliding between buildings. The screen switched, playing him changing his wings size. Testing his limits for the day.
Then it switched again. Going to him landing in an alleyway, taking off his jacket and setting it aside. Letting his wings shrink, falling through the holes in his shirt. The video paused as he glanced over his shoulder, his mask barely in place.
Shit.
“You're not very careful, are you,” Tony turned to Peter, raising an eyebrow with an amused smile on his face.
Don’t punch Mr. Stark, don’t punch Mr. Stark-
“I’m doing just fine.”
“But you still got caught.”
Peter paused then shrugged, “Fury isn’t a threat to me.”
Fury barked out a laugh, shaking his head. He raised a hand, the one not holding the pad.
“I’m sorry- I’m not a threat?”
“..no?”
Fury chuckled, a wide smile on his face, “you’ve got some balls kid.”
Yeah. If that means being stupid enough to go back to being a vigilante after dying because of it.
“Thanks. I suppose.”
Tony folded his arms over his chest, studying Peter for a moment. Peter glanced over, hesitantly making eye contact for a moment before his gaze darted away.
“Alright. I’ll do it.”
Peter’s head snapped to Vision. Seriously? The robot sees nothing fishy about this?
Not that I am fishy.
Vision started signing his name in every line marked with an x, Wanda following soon after. When she was done, she gave Peter a small smile.
It did not warm his heart, filling him with feelings of home. It did not warm his chest, feeling as though he was out bathing in the sun. It did not feel as though nothing could stop him now-
“I’m down.”
Natasha sat up, snatching the pen from Tony’s chest pocket. Tony scoffed, turning away from her. She scribbled her name down on all the slots.
Rhodey was the next to sign. He hadn’t stopped staring at Peter the whole time. He held a gaze full of deep thoughts and worries.
All that was left was Tony. He glanced around between the rest of the Avengers before sighing. He raised his hands in the air.
“Seriously? I’m the only one not going with this?”
Steve sighed, shaking his head lightly, “We all know something is up. No offense, Peter.”
His wings ruffled up, yet drooped down a little. Hearing Mr. Stark talking to him that way, talking about him that way, it- well, it hurt. Everything about this hurts.
Fury sighed, gazing at Peter with an apologetic look in his gaze. He walked up to the table, gently resting the pad on the edge of it.
“I can’t tell you more at the moment. But know that he won’t hurt you. Probably. Just- don’t give him a reason to.”
Wow. Thanks.
Tony sighed, running a hand down his face. He shook his head after a moment, rising to his feet. He glanced down at the pamphlet. He hesitated before snatching it up, bending a few of them in the process.
Fury raised an eyebrow, “and where are you going?”
“To think.”
Steve glanced over at Tony, a worried gaze following him all the way up to Peter. Tony stood in front of Peter, staring him up and down.
Peter glanced up at his old mentor, desperately searching for something familiar in those eyes. He had to look past layers of false confidence, rows of his ego, and layers of curiosity fueled by suspicion.
And beyond all of that was a sea of anxiety. Fear. A look fueled by sleepless nights, wondering what the next day would bring. If everything would crumble underneath him again.
Peter knows that look. He’s seen it in the mirror too many times to count.
“You. Me. Lab. Downstairs. Now.”