Chapter Text
If one were to sit down and try to find the exact moment the ordeal first begins to unfold, to pinpoint the exact event that unleashes everything that’s led Peter Parker to this specific moment, dirt smudged down the length of his torn suit as he sits on the cold, marble floor, a steady hand rubbing his back in a move that is reminiscent of May while he cries into the firm chest against him, they’d come down to an inconspicuous Tuesday, barely just a couple of days earlier, at lunch.
It isn’t much, really. To the untrained, unaware eye, it might even seem like it’s nothing. Nothing but a routine meal of mashed potato goop and some sort of putrid purple thing that Lunch Lady Mrs. Truman swears is some type of salad on his and Ned’s matching trays as they make their way to the table they know is empty all the way in the far back of the room, right next to the alternate exit door, save for the familiar and ever mysterious - although thankfully more talkative - brunette that’s seated at its outer extremity. As always, MJ’s got a thick book in her hand, engrossed in it like he’s just recently gotten used to seeing her. Unsurprisingly, Peter realizes as the boys arrive at their seats, its title is not one he can recognize. Part of him tells him that he should probably expand his literature repertoire. The other part reminds him that he doesn’t really care enough about the English language to do so. Around her, the crowd of teenagers creates a ruckus that is strange to neither of them, with some guy yelling at the top of his lungs that strawberries are the devil’s raindrops while his girlfriend tries to wrestle him into sitting down, the tiny crowd surrounding them seemingly unbothered by the boy’s actions. At some point, a football somehow finds its way to MJ’s feet, but even then, she simply kicks the ball back, not bothering to look up from the page she’s on.
She doesn’t look like she’s much interested in the likes of them, but both he and Ned have learned in the past few months that her practiced indifference is her own, unique way of letting them know she cares. If she didn’t, he knows that she would have walked off.
“You should probably eat lunch, you know,” Peter finally says from his spot across her, and it seems that the words catch her attention as she suddenly looks up, her expression even and unreadable, and shoves her book away. Ned takes the opportunity to jokingly wave at her when she looks to him, seated to her right, and she smiles in response.
“If you consider that sad excuse for potato a ‘lunch’, Peter,” she retorts, “I’m re-evaluating everything about this friendship. It’s basically watered down flavoured powder. With extra water.”
“Good,” Ned pipes up. “Keeps you hydrated.”
Both Peter and MJ ignore the comment. It’s nothing new. And besides, when Ned brings up the whole “I paid for it, I’m eating it,” argument, neither really has it within themselves to counter his point. Of course, there was that one time Michelle suggested he just not buy the damn meal, but it’s Ned. Ned doesn’t always listen. Ned’s special that way, and they both love him for it.
Instead, Peter turns to Michelle, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he leans down and nods towards her bag, now discarded between her legs on the ground.
“What were you reading?”
“Nothing you’d be familiar with,” she quips back, her own smirk forming as she turns a little to face him more comfortably and leans her head on her forearms, her voice almost challenging, hinting at yet another round of the familiar game of tug-and-war he plays with no one but her, a game they both enjoy beyond words but would never quite admit to each other out loud.
“Oh. come on,” Ned says from across her. “Peter and I read. We know lots of books.”
“You really don’t.”
“You underestimate us,” Peter defends.
“Apart from the chemistry and physics textbooks you’re always lugging around, the only books I’ve ever seen in either of your hands are the Star Wars graphic novels.”
“That’s still reading,” Ned immediately retorts, pushing his now empty tray to the side and reaching over to grab Peter’s water bottle. “If it’s got words, it counts as reading.”
MJ opts for staring at them instead of dignifying them with an answer, making that painful deadpan face she always makes, eyelids about a quarter shut and lips pressed into a thin line. She just… looks at them, never batting an eye, and it’s abundantly clear soon enough to both the boys that they’ve lost the argument.
“Fine,” Peter sighs, but then adds, smiling: “Keep your secrets. We don’t care anyway. Do we?”
“Not in the least.”
“That’s right.”
The corner of her lips turn up just slightly at his statement, and she lifts a leg over the bench so that she’s now straddling it, facing Peter. She leans forward, almost as if she’s about to tell him a secret, and, glancing once to both sides of them in order to make sure no one’s listening in, whispers: “I’m not the one keeping secrets, Parker.”
He’s sure there’s something comical about the way he feels his eyes reflexively widen, then, and he immediately whips his head in Ned’s direction, seeing his friend in a very similar state. It seems that maybe Ned’s even paled at the remark, fingertips now wildly drumming against the top of his thighs. Peter throws around one more furtive glance, just to make sure no one’s heard them (no one has), and makes a hasty attempt at regaining his composure.
“I, uh, don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie to me,” she simply says, with a bit of a smirk, and if Peter’s heartbeat hadn’t come skidding to a halt yet, it definitely has now. How could she know? He’d always been so careful, to the point where he and Ned had made a secret pact never to even mention the Avengers in Michelle’s presence. Knowing her, the slightest alteration of his pitch would give it away.
She leans back then, seemingly proud of having nearly given her friend a heart attack, and nonchalantly, she pulls her school bag over her shoulder and stands up.
“I’ll just let you two digest that for a moment.”
“Please never ask about her books again,” is all Ned can manage to say to the boy once she’s out of sight.
An hour later, as Mr. Reynold’s says something that can’t possibly be more important than the turbulent mess that has taken up residence in Peter’s brain, her words still ring clear, as if she’s still saying them, over and over, knowing the effect they have on him.
I’m not the one keeping secrets, Parker.
Michelle isn’t in this class of his, and neither is Ned, and perhaps, Peter reasons, that’s for the best. It’s giving him an opportunity to stew in the knowledge that his big bad secret’s been uncovered, and subsequently, in a very organized and calm manner -- two things neither of his best friends are -- figure out how to fix it. Clearly, if he’s thus far been obvious enough for MJ to figure him out, there’s some kind of major flaw in the Spiderman stealth department. Today, it’s MJ. Tomorrow, it could be Flash. He just can’t risk it, not now. Not after Mr. Stark has finally started answering his texts, and sending his own. He needs to talk to MJ, figure out exactly what he’s been doing wrong, and fix it.
“Is that garbage can more interesting than my class, Peter?” Mr. Reynolds’ voice says from somewhere close, and the low, nasal sound snaps the boy right out of his reverie. He’s standing right over Peter’s desk, a stern frown in place and his pale, bony hands resting at his hips.
“Uh - Um, no. Sorry,” the teen sputters, hurriedly glancing around the room to see a novel in each of his classmate’s hands, and then a matching one at the corner of his desk, laid right in front of his teacher. He picks the book up and begins flipping through the pages, with not much idea of where to go from there. “I’ll… uh, I’ll read, now?”
“That you will. Page 57, third paragraph. Out loud, please.”
He won’t lie and say he enjoys the novel (English has never been his thing; he’s more of a chemistry person), but he thinks it might be the distraction he needs from losing his mind over MJ’s words for the remaining 40 minutes of the class. He can’t remember much of the book as the bell rings and the tall, lanky teacher distractedly instructs everyone to put their chairs up, save for an excruciatingly vivid description of a baseball glove right at the beginning.
Ned’s waiting right outside his class when he steps out, both of their school bags thrown over each of his shoulders as he roughly grips Peter’s arms and nearly yanks him into the water fountain to the right of Mr. Reynolds’ classroom entrance. It’s a relatively secluded part of the school, due to the student body’s lack of enthusiasm towards the English teacher, the lack of lockers in the area, and the fountain’s sad reputation for its unfortunately lukewarm water.
Peter narrows his eyes at him in equal parts bafflement and frustration, but Ned pays him no attention as he drags him out the closest exit, running on his tiptoes almost as if they were sneaking away from something. He only lets go of his friend’s arm once they’ve stilled at the far back of the school’s soccer field, towards the back where a long, straight line of elm trees run parallel to the worn metal fence.
“Is there a reason we had to run all the way here?”
“Yeah. We had to avoid MJ.”
“Dude,” Peter sighs as he sits down in front of Ned, who’s already put their bags down and is trying to get comfortable on the half-dry grass, “why are we avoiding her if she already knows?”
“Because we need to discuss how much she can find out today,” Ned simply replies, and although Peter wants to argue, he really does, his best friend has a point.
“Okay. So we tell her about Washington, Germany, Liz’s dad -”
“ - No!” Ned exclaims to that, “Not about Liz’s dad. That’s not fair.”
“It was on TV though.”
“Right.”
“Other than that, we tell her everything?”
“... Pretty much?” the boy shrugs, then, sobering up, he straightens and leans forward just slightly, putting that top-secret-discussion face of his on that oddly reminds Peter of Mr. Stark when he’s trying to argue a point. “We also need to make sure she doesn’t tell anyone, Peter. We can’t handle more than just our closest friends knowing.”
“She won’t. She’s MJ. She doesn’t tell people secrets.”
“Trust me, I know that.”
“Then we shouldn’t be hiding under a tree,” the boy reasons. “We should go find her, ask her how she found out, and then fix what we’re doing wrong.”
“There’s a whole lot to fix,” a sudden but familiar voice says somewhere to their right, startling them as Michelle makes her way to the duo, setting her own bag down as she sits down with her legs crossed, right next to Ned. “You’re not very subtle.”
“How long have you been here?” Ned asks her, and she simply smirks in response, prompting the boy to drop it. He hasn’t been able to get a straight answer for pretty much anything out of her, ever, and something tells him that that isn’t about to change right this moment.
“Alright, alright. Tell us when you found out,” he curtly says then. “Tell us everything we did wrong.”
“Everything?” MJ tries to tease, but all amusement drops from her face when she is met by two incredibly sincere gazes as her friends nod in unison. “Okay, well, there was your whole chemistry supply theft rampage,” she says, gesturing toward Peter, “Right before Spiderman was first spotted, no less.”
“I did no such thing--”
“And then there was that whole deal about you getting that Stark internship the same weekend Spiderman was caught destroying an airport in Germany with him.”
“Yeah, you probably should have thought that one out,” Ned remarks, and he gets a smack on the arm for it.
“There was that thing in Washington,” she adds, and then, smiling a little, “and the fact that you think under your bed is a good place to hide a Tony Stark-built suit.”
It’s almost a reflex when Peter feels his eyes widen at the statement, and though he attempts at opening his mouth a couple of times to say something, no words seem to leave him.
“Why were you looking under his bed, anyway?” Ned supplies instead, and Peter is eternally grateful for him.
“I was looking for pieces from that Death Star you dropped in his room. You guys asked me to.”
“That was three months ago.”
“It was,” she replies matter-of-factly.
“You’ve known this whole time?” Peter blurts out, in shock as well as in fascination, and dare he say, a little bit of relief. There’s a weird feeling that makes its way up his chest, something bubbling of fear and anxiety and joy all at once as he and Ned share a final glance, both thinking the same thing -- that it could’ve been worse. Between the two of them, it had begun to become a little tiresome, keeping their secret from their other best friend (not that they’d done very well, they know that now), and it feels like breathing in a breath of fresh air after having spent a whole day in his spidermask now that she knows. Of course, he might not be able to keep her away from danger the way he’d have hoped to if she had never found out, but between that and Michelle knowing him, all of him, in the way that he always hoped she would, he thinks he got the better deal of the bargain. Or, at least, with the little smile she sends his way, teasing and sympathetic at once, somehow, it sure feels like he did.
“Well,” he finally breathes out, slowly, “I guess there are no more secrets now,” and then, as an afterthought: “I’m gonna need a new place to hide the suit.”
“Okay then, if we’re done running away from me,” Michelle says as she stands up, grabbing her bag with one hand and extending the other to Ned. “We can maybe discuss optimal supersuit hiding spots elsewhere. I think the team has practice out here in a bit.”
“If you’re suggesting that we go to Pete’s house, I’m always on board,” Ned jokes as he hoists himself up, right before turning to Peter and nodding at him to stand up as well, “May makes the absolute best salami sandwiches.”
And of course, because Peter has never, in his entire life, been able to deny Ned of May’s “cooking” to this day, it isn’t even a whole half an hour until the trio find themselves in Peter’s bedroom, each a sandwich in hand. Ned’s seated at the foot of his best friend’s twin bed, legs crossed and back leaning against a pillow at the footboard, looking down at Peter, sprawled sideways along the length of the bed. At the head of the bed, Michelle examines Peter’s spidersuit, caressing the thin material between the fingers of her free hand with an awe Peter’s never seen in her before, her knees pulled close to her chest. Their bags are haphazardly thrown across the floor, forgotten, and although the three of them know that May is in on their current situation, the door is shut and locked in an unnecessary attempt to keep her at bay from the discussion.
“What material is this?” MJ whispers at some point, scrutinizing the small emblem at the suit’s front, gently running her fingers over it.
“Uh, oh, I’m not a 100% sure,” Peter immediately replies, taking the last bite of his sandwich and sitting up. “Mr. Stark made it. I think he modified the material himself. It’s very similar to some kind of nylon spandex blend.”
“Except way lighter” Ned adds, “and definitely more resistant to burns and tears.”
“That’s pretty cool.”
“Oh yeah. I almost lost my mind when Happy first showed it to me.”
“Who’s that?”
“He’s Tony Stark’s guy in the chair,” Ned pipes up, “Just like I’m Peter’s.”
“That’s cute,” Michelle smiles, “You found a nicer way to say sidekick.”
“He’s not my -” Peter starts, because Ned is so much more than just a sidekick. He’s his best friend, his strength, his inspiration, his - his brother, he wants to correct, but he’s cut off by said brother himself before he can say anything.
“That’s right! I’m the best there is.”
MJ full-on laughs at that, Ned joining in soon after, and when their amusement has died off a bit, and they both find themselves staring at Peter, Ned cocking his head a bit, curious as to why his best friend hasn’t joined in on the fun, Peter simply sighs and smiles at their antics.
“He really is.”
Ned stares at him for a second, as if contemplating something, and then: “Good. If you’d said Karen was better, I’d have hurt you very bad.”
That seems to confuse MJ, because she gently puts the suit down on Peter’s nightstand and sits up straighter for a split second, before changing her mind and moving to lean forward on her elbows as she throws Ned a confused look.
“Karen?”
“A.I.” Peter replies, “Accessible through the suit. She’s pretty cool.”
“Not that cool. She’s no match for my Chair Guy skills.”
MJ looks like she wants to want to reply, but whatever she may have wanted to say stays within her when a loud knock at the door resounds in the small room.
“Peter!” May calls from the other side. “Honey, I’m gonna need you to keep this door unlocked, okay? You promised not to go save the world without telling me first!”
“I’m still here, May,” Peter calls, but he moves to go unlock the door nonetheless. Rolling his eyes when his aunt scrutinizes his face for cuts of scrapes (not as subtly as she thinks) as soon as she lays eyes on him. “You need to trust me a little.”
“I do,” she says honestly, before leaning to the side to get a better view of MJ and Ned, seemingly satisfied with their current situation: bags on opposite sides of the floor and the both of them seated side by side, with a pillow in Ned’s arms. “But an aunt’s gotta worry. Now keep this door open.”
And, like the truly trusting aunt she is, May throws him a moderately predatory glance as she walks back to her own room, turning around once to make sure Peter hasn’t shut the door on her.
“We’ve got to start hanging out somewhere else,” Peter sighs once she’s out of earshot, walking back to his friends. “I love May, but she’s just about to drive me up a wall.”
“Literally.”
“Not helping, man.”
Ned simply smiles in response, unbothered, and slides over from his spot to allow Peter the room he needs to dramatically plop down onto the mattress, prompting an amused look from MJ. He shrugs at her, and she shakes her head before glancing over to Ned as if she’s just had some huge revelation and then turning back to face Peter, curious.
“Do you have access to Avengers Tower?”
The question is entirely out of the blue, taking the boy by surprise, and he’s quick to open his mouth in order to give a reply before it hits him that he has no idea. He knows for a fact that every Avenger in the Stark database is allowed access to the building, and it might be entirely plausible that Peter’s own information may be registered as well, but something within him reminds him, much unfortunately, that despite having earned Mr. Stark’s praise, Peter isn’t an Avenger, and probably won’t be for a while, therefore having no more claim over the facility than any other random civilian.
“Hey. Earth to Parker. D’you have access to the tower?”
“I - I don’t think so,” Peter answers with a hint of shame for not knowing. It’s not his fault, obviously; he’s never gone into the place without Mr. Hogan or Mr. Stark disabling the security measures for him first, but the knowledge does nothing to thwart the stupid little voice inside him that tells him he should know for sure. On one hand, it makes complete sense for him not to have access: he’s viewed by the man as a kid who’s barely just met the team and only recently proven to him that he isn’t a complete reckless idiot, but on the other, a deep something within his chest, light and warm like hope reminds him of the stark possibility of the opposite. After all, Mr. Stark had trusted Peter enough to give him his suit back and watched him pass with flying colours at the test he’d set to evaluate his values. Maybe he trusts the boy enough to let him into the communal superhero space? Hesitantly, he adds: “Maybe.”
“Shame we can’t find out,” Ned says in a tone that conveys anything but sincerity, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he shares another look with MJ, the two of them clearly understanding something that’s completely flying over Peter’s head. “It would be pretty awesome to have our own hangout spot in the place. No distractions, no May, amazing WiFi…”
“No way,” Peter says as soon as he begins to understand their little idea, “Absolutely not, guys. We can’t do that.”
“Of course we can,” Michelle says in front of him, “It’s only a bus ride and two subway changes from school. A little over an hour at most.”
“No!” he exclaims, “Guys, if Mr. Stark sees me trying to sneak into his place, he’ll never take me seriously again. We can’t.”
“He programmed your suit to activate a ‘Training Wheels Protocol’. He doesn’t take you seriously anyway,” Ned adds as if it’s the world’s most helpful thing to say at the moment.
“You know what I mean, dude.”
“Okay, listen,” Ned starts, leaning toward Peter and dropping his voice to a whisper, glancing toward the room’s exit to make sure once more that May isn’t eavesdropping, “I don’t believe that Tony Stark offering you to join him and become an Avenger was a test. I think he really wanted you to join.There’s a reason he wants to hear from you every day now. And that’s not even mentioning all the new tech he sends you, or how he’s your emergency contact at school.”
“He’s my what?”
“Has been for like a month,” Ned dismisses, before the fierce determination overcomes his face again. “Peter, there’s a fifty percent chance that your information can get us onto at least the communal lounge in that building.”
“And if it can,” Michelle adds, “it’s because we’re allowed to be there -- or at least you are.”
“It’s the perfect place for us to be, Peter. We can talk Spiderman stuff for hours and there’s no risk of anyone overhearing. Least of all May. It’ll help keep her away from the danger.”
That strikes a nerve. It’s true that while he’s in the house, May would never let him go out and do what he does unless she’s fully aware and involved with it, and there’s no possible way that Peter -- or his friends, for that matter -- would let her entangle herself in the mess that is high-end criminals in the tri-state area. Not after what he and Ned had gone through with the Vulture.
“I just don’t want Mr. Stark to think I’m getting ahead of myself by sneaking into his space,” he finally breathes out.
“He won’t, but I can try to freeze the camera feed once we’re there if it helps.”
“But FRIDAY -”
“If it’s just one floor, we can try to disable the A. I.”
“There’s no possible way you can do that,” MJ says to Ned. “Freezing the video feed might work, but the A. I. is going to be impossible to avoid.”
“She… might be programmed to listen to the Avengers,” Peter whispers, a little unsure, still, of why he’s listening to his two idiotic friends who seem hell-bent on rescinding his chances of becoming an Avenger for good. “We could try just asking her not to tell.”
The three of them look at each other then, silent while they contemplate Peter’s last words with a certain sort of apprehension. Peter knows for a fact that going through with this crazy idea of theirs can’t possibly be a smart thing to do, but fueled by something he can’t recognize, some uncharacteristic mixture of curiosity, and just the slightest hint of hope, topped off with the thought of keeping the only family he has safe amidst the giant mess that his life has become, he says: “We’ll take the bus after last, tomorrow. Bring your laptop, Ned.”
Safe to say, neither of the three gets a decent night of sleep afterward, and Peter’s hands shake a little more than normal when he texts his day’s activities to Tony, every key pressed a reminder of the borderline rebellious move he’s about to pull. The school day that follows isn’t any better. Peter can’t seem to focus on any of his classes, even more so than usually, and a large majority of his effort and energy are being put into contemplating the various potential outcomes of the the stunt he’s convinced himself to pull today. He realizes how risky it is; how his entire future as an Avenger and Mr. Stark’s mentee is being laid on the line, but the more time he spends thinking about it, the more the positive implications of Ned and MJ’s idea seem to outweigh the negative ones.
He could keep May safe. Going to Avengers Tower to do all his Spiderman business under the pretext of being over at Ned’s keeps everyone away from Peter -- and from his family. Not to mention that he gets his own space, with the added benefit of getting a chance to familiarize himself with the impressive monument while he’s there. Plus, if FRIDAY somehow allows him to keep operating under Mr. Stark’s nose without him realizing it, a situation that is far unlikely but no longer seems impossible to the boy, he might just have a new place to make and store his web fluid, a place to make upgrades to his suit, a place for Ned to keep working on his computer skills, a place where he can spend more time with MJ, and maybe, after all of this, it’ll be easier to convince Mr. Stark that he’s ready to be an Avenger. After all, not anyone could have managed to be cunning enough to sneak into his own tower without him realizing it for the past few months.
It just… makes sense to him. Well, it almost makes sense to him. There’s still one thing he can’t wrap his head around.
“Why are you agreeing to this?” he asks MJ when they’re in art class, voice muffled under the heavy rock his teacher’s playing on the smartboard, watching her sketch something he can’t entirely see from his weird angle next to her, his own sketchbook laying bare in front of him.
“Agreeing to what?” she asks, lifting her head and turning to him briefly, before nodding towards his forgotten pencil, “Draw.”
Peter rolls his eyes, but picks the pencil up anyway, drawing a straight line on the blank page that he doesn’t really know yet what he’ll turn into, his hands just sort of working on autopilot. “Agreeing with Ned. About the thing after school.”
She drops her pencil and turns a little to grab an eraser from her case, and he realizes in wonder that she’d drawn a rough portrait of he and Ned, mid-handshake. “Because,” she says nonchalantly, eyes never leaving her paper, “if you’re gonna go do your thing, I feel the need to make sure you get to do your thing in a way that Ned knows you’re safe doing it. He’s worried.”
“He is?”
“Yeah, dimwit, and he thinks it’s better for you to be working from the Tower because of it. I don’t entirely disagree.”
“I just never thought you’d care,” he says honestly.
“I don’t,” she casually says, but this time, perhaps for the first time ever, Peter is able to catch the lie in her usual blunt and stoic tone. He tries to hide his smile as he keeps sketching.
Lucky for the teenagers, the end of last period doesn’t come too long after, and before they have the chance to sit down and go over how idiotic this idea of their really is, the trio finds itself walking up the steps of the subway station, ready to make the relatively short walk to their destination. Avengers Tower, here they come.