Chapter Text
Spider-Man swung through New York City, grinning beneath his mask. It’d been muggy and wet for the past several weeks, but today the air was crisp and the sun warm in the cloudless sky.
Peter breathed deep. His foot skimmed lightly over the yellow top of a taxi as he glided low. True to form, the driver honked at him. Peter gave the disgruntled man a wave as he swung around the corner.
The Avengers were off world—which, Peter was still not over interplanetary travel, like holy shit—at the moment, leaving the defense of New York to the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
(He knew Dr. Strange lived around here somewhere, but he didn’t count. Peter had never seen him patrolling, and half the job was making sure the people knew you were around, and had their backs.)
Peter had expanded his territory accordingly in their absence, spending time in each of the five boroughs. So far he’d caught a few pickpockets in Manhattan, who’d attempted to prey on oblivious tourists around 42nd street, but otherwise New York was getting on just fine.
Still, Peter remained vigilant! Mr. Stark was expecting a full report when he got back.
Spider-Man was about to turn in for the night, halfway across the Queensboro Bridge when Karen piped up.
“Peter, I’ve just received a report of a fire in Chinatown. Firefighters are heading towards the scene, but it has spread to two apartment buildings.”
“On it!”
Peter webbed one of the bridge’s support beams and pivoted back around towards Manhattan.
He arrived at the scene roughly thirty minutes after Karen’s alert. The local firefighters had beaten him there. Three fire trucks were parked haphazardly in the street, the firefighters rushing to subdue the rampaging flames before the fire spread even further. One of the apartment buildings on fire was six stories tall, the other eight. The scene was chaotic as the firefighters rushed to rescue civilians, keep onlookers from getting too close, and douse the roaring flames. Smoke hung thickly in the air.
Spider-Man perched atop a fire-hydrant as a fireman secured the hose attached to it.
“What’s the situation like inside?” He yelled to be heard over the cacophony of noise.
“We’ve got some folks still up on the eighth floor.” The fireman said. While some police officers and firefighters disliked Spider-Man, most respected him now that he’d proven himself on several mid-profile captures, and were willing to work with him in times of crisis.
“Leave it to me.”
Peter stuck himself to the building and began to climb. The heat of the brick was dampened to a bearable level by his suit, and for the billionth time Peter blessed its design.
The heat had cracked the windows on the eighth floor. Peter shattered one of them with a single kick. He swung into the apartment.
“Hello? Is anyone here?” He called out. The nano-tech in his suit supplied oxygen to him, so he didn’t have to worry about smoke inhalation.
His scalp prickled, and he intuitively rolled forward to dodge a wooden support beam. He needed to move fast. While he may be protected from the smoke, he’s pretty sure his suit couldn’t withstand an eight story building’s worth of brick and mortar atop him.
“Karen, scan for life forms.”
“Scanning.” Even as she spoke, three heat signatures appeared in the apartment across the hall from the one he was currently in. “There is a family of three in apartment 8F.”
Peter ran out of the apartment. When he reached the hallway, he kicked down the door to 8F. Peter cringed back as heat slammed into him. The fire was even more intense in here.
“Hello? I’m getting you out of here!”
The family rushed to him from the closet they were hiding in. Shirts were tied around their faces, makeshift masks to keep out some of the smoke. The mother pushed a young girl into his arms. The tears on the girls face evaporated even as she wailed.
“小雨!” She screamed.
Peter led the family back through the apartment he entered from. All the while, the kid burrowed against his neck and kept screaming the same thing over and over.
“What is she saying, Karen?”
“小雨!”
“Sprinkles.”
They reached the shattered window. A firefighter had come up on the ladder, and was waiting for them. Spider-Man handed off the girl first.
“小雨,” She sobbed.
“Karen, scan 8F for pets.”
Leaving the family to be escorted down by the firefighters, Peter rushed back into their apartment. He searched wildly around the living room.
“There is a cat beneath that couch.”
Peter heaved the couch out of the way, and scooped up a tiny white kitten.
“Is there anyone else still in the building?”
“Just you, Peter.”
The floor groaned ominously beneath his feet.
“Right. Time to go.” Cradling the kitten close to his chest, Peter ducked and dived around falling debris.
The family was clear of the window, but the firefighter had remained behind in case there were more to save.
“All clear!” Peter said.
“Move it!” The firefighter hollered.
Spider-Man didn’t need to be told twice—he leapt through the window and stuck himself to the fire truck’s extended ladder. He climbed down, and landed by the EMTs.
“Can you help this cat?” He asked. One of the EMTs that wasn’t occupied with a human patient came fourth. She took the kitten, and pressed a toddler-size oxygen mask to the animal’s face.
“小雨!”
Spider-Man turned. The girl he saved dragged her parents over to him. He looked to the EMT. The kitten was soot-covered and coughing, but very wriggly and alive in the med tech’s hand. The EMT gave him a firm nod.
Spider-Man crouched down to look the girl in the eye.
“Sprinkles is going to be just fine.”
Peter was about to ask Karen to translate for him when the EMT handed the kitten back to him. Peter gave the cat a quick pat on the head before he returned it to the girl.
She brightened instantly, and clutched Sprinkles to her chest. The kitten purred loudly, recognizing its owner. Its pink tongue flicked out to lick her hand.
“Thank you, Spider-Man,” The girl’s mother said.
Peter straightened. “Of course! Just doing my job.”
The girl rushed forward for a hug, and Spider-Man happily returned the embrace.
Things had been rough—and that was really an understatement—since the Snap was reversed. They’d lost many heroes in the final battle against Thanos. Too many. There were many days that Peter felt guilt, that he survived when so many did not. But nights like tonight, it all feels worth it. This was what he was meant for.
“Let’s go home, Karen.” Spider-Man shot off a web, and launched himself into the air.
~*~
Bells shrilled, signalling the end of the school day. As students filtered past him, Peter pulled up the Daily Bugle on his phone.
FIREFIGHTERS SAVE CHINATOWN
Screamed the headline. The article went on to discuss the details of the blaze. The electrical fire, caused by antiquated, faulty wiring throughout the six story building, claimed both that building and the one beside it. The six story building crumbled entirely, the centuries-old brick no match for the searing flames. The eight story building was still standing, but it was a husk of its former self. But, thanks to the efforts of the firefighters and Spider-Man, no lives were lost.
Peter grinned. The editor of the Daily Bugle, J. Jonah Jameson, was his own personal Gordon Ramsay. Jameson’s gone on all types of podcasts and printed so many articles lambasting Spider-Man, calling him a public menace and trying to twist his actions into something villainous. But in this article, Jameson had to begrudgingly admit Spider-Man had done no wrong, and had actually helped; videos of Spider-Man rescuing the kitten have already gone viral. Sure, Jameson framed him as an afterthought, only mentioning his part of the fire rescue in the last sentence of the article. But it was still progress! Peter had the feeling he’d wrangle a glowing review out of Jameson one day.
“Hey dude.” Ned nudged Peter in the arm as he caught up to him in the hallway. He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: “I saw everything on the news. Great job.”
Peter beamed. “Thanks, man.”
They walked together to the library, to the first week decathlon practice for their junior year.
“Oh, we still on for this Saturday?”
“Yeah!”
“Cool. It’s been a while since we’ve just like, hung out doing nothing, you know?”
Peter nodded. Once Aunt May calmed down after discovering his secret hobby of running around in spandex all night, she laid down some ground rules for him. He had to get at least Bs in his classes, stay involved in one club, and restrict his Spider-manning to four days a week (and be back in bed by 2 a.m.) unless there was a dire emergency. And by dire emergency she meant aliens falling from the sky, and nothing less than that.
At first, Peter had chafed under the restrictions. Before she’d known, he had gone out as Spider-Man every night, and would get a few snatches of sleep before he had to get up for school. He had the perspective to see now that it wasn’t healthy, and he still felt guilty about all the times he’d blown off Ned to go on a patrol that ended with zero crimes encountered. Aunt May’s rules helped Peter better balance everything going on in his life. He felt more in control.
Most of the decathlon team was already settled in by the time he and Ned got there. Including—ugh—Flash.
Of course, his tormentor instantly honed in on him. Peter hadn’t even set his backpack down yet before Flash sneered: “Shouldn’t you be at the “Stark Internship” right now?”
Peter avoided his gaze. The best way to deal with Flash was to just not engage.
M.J. was the last to arrive, a petrified-looking freshman in tow.
“Everyone, say hello to the new meat.”
They chorused a greeting. The freshman fidgeted and tried for a smile.
“I’m Edward, but people call me Eddie. It’s nice to meet you all.”
Eddie took the spare seat beside Peter. Peter gave him an encouraging smile, which the freshman returned.
M.J. plopped into her chair at the head of the table, and said offhand: “Oh and Flash, you’re down to second alternate.”
Predictably, he exploded.
“What the hell do you mean, second alternate?” Flash leapt out of his chair. No one was surprised, save for Eddie, who stared, wide-eyed.
“The newbie scored higher on the ranking test we did. So he’s first alternate now.”
Flash’s face reddened. It was humiliating for a junior to be ranked below a freshman.
“That’s bullshit! That’s—That’s—” He cast about for a target. And predictably, it was Peter. “Parker put you up to this!”
Ned, ever faithful, rallied to Peter’s defense. “Flash, it’s not Peter’s fault you bombed the test.”
“Don’t you know, lard-o? He’s sleeping with the team captain! It’s obvious he had her lower my score on purpose to make me look bad!”
Peter went scarlet at the mention of him and M.J. M.J, of course, was unphased.
“Keep it down!” The librarian scolded Flash as she drifted by with a cart of books to put back.
“I’m—You—Mr. Harrington won’t agree to this!” Flash stomped off to find their teacher.
M.J. shrugged in his wake. “It was Mr. Harrington’s choice anyway, so…”
“I can be second alternate.” Eddie said, earnestly. “Really, I don’t mind. I don’t want to cause any problems.”
“No.” Peter blurted. “Just ignore him. He’s a dick.”
He could take Flash picking on him—he had for years now—but he couldn’t let Flash ruin this freshman’s chance to shine. It was pretty much certain Peter would miss decathlon competitions in the future, and he’d rather give his spot to Eddie over Flash any day.
By the time Flash sulked back to the table, they had already broken off into groups to quiz each other. Peter usually paired with Ned, but when Eddie’s timid eyes lifted to him with a mute request, he couldn’t deny him.
“Which Florida city is the southernmost point in the continental United States?” Peter read off the card.
Eddie thought for a moment, then perked up.
“Key West!”
“You got it.” That was the last of the cards; Eddie was pretty damn fast. “So, Eddie, why’d you join the team?”
Eddie shrugged.
“My mom said I had to join some clubs. Looks good for colleges and whatnot. Plus if I joined a few, she said she’d get me a camera.”
“You like to take photographs?”
He asked the right question—Eddie lit up like the sun. “Yeah, I’m—I’ve been going around after school since I was like, ten. Look at this!”
Eddie flipped through the photos on his phone, and showed Peter one of Spider-Man, sailing through the Washington Square Arch.
“Wow!” Peter was genuinely impressed. The picture framed Spider-Man nicely, and was in focus. Most photos of him that circulated the web (heh, web) were blurry or unflattering. Ned still had that picture of Peter face-planting onto a car as his phone lock screen, and every time he saw it he died a little more inside.
“Spider-Man’s cool.” Eddie said. Peter preened. He was cool. “My dad doesn’t really like him, though.”
Their conversation was interrupted as M.J. wrangled them all back to the meeting table. She gave each of them a book to read, all on their topics of focus. Peter grimaced as he was handed a weighty physics book. He’d have Karen read it aloud to him during patrol.
“That’s all for today. Scram.”
After M.J. closed out the session, the group scattered. Peter hung back with M.J., ignoring Flash’s glower and waving Ned and Eddie off.
“Eddie’s smart,” He told M.J. as she stuffed flashcards back into her backpack. “I think he’ll be great on the team.”
“I know how to pick ‘em.” M.J. said.
Now that they were alone, M.J. was bold enough to give him a quick peck on the lips.
Peter’s heart fluttered. The smile M.J. gave him was soft and private, a vulnerability to it that she let only him see. He grinned back like a doofus.
The war against Thanos really put things into perspective for Peter. He and M.J. had skirted around this thing between them for a while, but he’d been too scared to ever make a move. Once they wrested the gauntlet away from Thanos, and the restored world had time to settle back into its old rhythm, Peter just went for it. They’d been dating for two months now, and Peter was still in awe of the fact that she’d said yes.
Peter ultimately left the library with a spring in his step, and the promise of a date next week.
~*~
“—and then I was like, you’ve got to be kitten me! And I grabbed the little guy and got him the heck out of there.”
Peter gesticulated wildly as he gave Mr. Stark his report for the two and a half weeks he and the Avengers were away. Saving the family and their kitten from the fire was definitely the highlight.
Peter paused his tale to eat another scoop of froyo. Typically he gave his weekly reports to Happy, but this time Mr. Stark had taken him out for some froyo when he came back with the team, to give them time to touch base face to face. Peter would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed Mr. Stark.
The cashier of the small midtown froyo shop was sneaking pictures of the two of them—Peter heard the faint click of the shutter sound going off on her phone. The customers, however, remained indifferent to them. Peter had to give New Yorkers credit; they were great at giving celebrities privacy, and pretending it wasn’t a big deal to do so.
“It certainly sounds like an adventure. You did good, kid.” Peter basked in the praise, a giddy, warm feeling in his chest. Mr. Stark was giving him that look again, the one he treasured most of all, his eyes shining with paternal pride.
“So tell me what happened with you!” Peter leaned forward eagerly. “Did you see the other Peter?” Peter had hitched a ride with the Guardians back to Earth, and had enjoyed getting to know them all under much less dire circumstances. Educating the other Peter on memes was seriously a highlight of his life.
Tony rolled his eyes. “Star Dork was around, yes. He threw a grenade at an alien and yelled “yeet”.”
Peter gasped, and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. “I’m so proud.”
“You’re a terrible influence.”
~*~
Spider-Man swung through Queens, on a routine patrol. Now that Mr. Stark and the rest of the Avengers were back, he returned to focusing on his home turf. Privately, he missed the Manhattan skyscrapers; he couldn’t get nearly as much air out here.
He spotted a cop car as it screamed down the road, and followed after it. He grew nervous as the car drove closer and closer to May’s apartment, but the tension in his chest deflated when the car parked about five blocks away. He knew May’s route home from the subway, and it took her down a different road.
Peter landed lightly on his feet, behind the officers. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there. He’d learned to announce his presence to them gently after a startled cop once whirled around and clocked him in the face.
“What’s the situation, officers?”
He didn’t know these particular cops, but they knew him. Davis, read the name tag on the black cop’s chest.
“Hope you’ve got a strong stomach, Spidey.” Davis said.
Both curious and wary, Spider-Man followed the officers into an alleyway. They ducked beneath a strand of yellow police tape, and passed by a forensics officer getting out her kit.
At the end of the alleyway was a man, slumped against a dumpster. By the look of him, he was homeless.
Peter was assaulted by a vile stench: sweat, blood, and fecal matter mixed into one noxious fume. As he drew closer, he saw the man was dead. Not from exposure, or overdose, but something far more sinister. It looked like an animal got to him. His stomach was ripped open, and Peter observed with horror that his entrails had bites out of them. Someone—or some thing—had eaten parts of this man.
“Christ.” Davis’ partner muttered. Peter tried his best not to puke.
“Spider-Man.” Davis addressed him. “You got any enemies that do stuff like this?”
He shook his head. This wasn’t even close to the m.o. of the villains he’d faced. The Vulture, the Scorpion, they were corrupt and cruel, but they never fell to this level of savagery. This was animalistic. Inhuman.
“I’ll look into it.” Spider-Man said. Once he surreptitiously took samples of evidence for his own investigation, he left the scene.
Two days later, another victim was found.