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Chapter Text

There were a multitude of differing ways Peta Parker envisioned her Friday evening playing out:

a) Finally catching up on all that annoying homework she refused to leave to the last minute again so that she can actually a weekend in peace from that tragic schoolgirl life.

b) Inventing new alternatives to her poisonous web darts so that they were less outright poison and more temporarily stun.

c) Watching the latest season of Stranger Things with Aunt May, snuggling down by the fire and sipping hot cocoa.

Getting shot was not one of them. It was not on her agenda. Which, according to that old adage, Murphy's Law – and a nice, healthy dose of Parker Luck™ for good measure – meant that that was exactly how Peta spent her Friday evening.

So she was. Getting shot. Then, she was bleeding, heavily, gagging on the rising blood in her mouth, all while in the arms of one of her personal heroes: Captain America. Who, coincidentally, just happened to be conveniently ‘in the area’.

Was there ever a greater first impression to be had?

The Captain held her trembling body, weak from blood loss and reeking of gunshot powder. It was a vile, acrid stench that left a bitter taste in Peta’s mouth.

(First priority once she was healed: invest in a mask filter.)

"This is not how I wanted to meet Captain America,” she slurred, the edges of consciousness ebbing in the distance. Not for the first time, she was grateful for her voice modulator projecting her pitch several octaves lower – whenever she was injured, she had a tendency to sound like a little kid, and she really didn’t want to humiliate herself any more than she had already. “I’m bleeding all over your suit ‘n I don’t think red’s your colour.”

"Are you kidding?" The literal legend said as he waved off Peta’s self-deprecating remarks. "You took a bullet without even hesitating. When you grow up, you're going to be the best out of all of us."

Peta smiled at Captain America's praise, at the true honesty ringing in his voice. She allowed the words to wash over her and wave away her niggling doubts.

Spider-Man was a hero.

That thought reverberated in her mind as she made the painful journey back to her apartment. The agony of her bullet wound was nothing compared to the ache in her cheeks, grin unbidden and untainted by injury. She didn't stop smiling even as she stripped off the blood-soaked suit, carefully bandaging her wound as best she could given her limited resources (thank God May was a nurse or else she'd have been toast a long time ago).

For once, her dreams weren't plagued by death.

~

To start with what had all the hallmarks of being a very long, and potentially life-altering, story: May had a new boyfriend, and Peta wasn't sure how to process this new development.

The guy – Happy, although his gruff personality was a clear antonym of his name; whenever he wasn't making gross lovey-dovey heart eyes with May, that was – was head of security at Stark Industries. Before that, personal bodyguard to The Tony Stark. Which was kinda cool, but really more of a massive new stress in Peta’s life, because if this guy successfully worked for Tony Stark then how long would it be before he sussed out Peta’s Spidey secret?

The matter wasn't helped by the fact that Happy was a huge Spider-Man fanboy. Which was, like, monumentally crazy and just the kind of luck Peta was burdened with.

(It was, frankly, amusing, however. Listening to the guy drone on about Spider-Man's exploits second-hand, Peta couldn't help the giggles that had risen up within her whenever Happy regaled them with a hyperbolic rendition of her alter-ego's mishap with the Vulture, finally concluding with the plane crash. Something about Spider-Man really saved my hide that day, though, never failed to make Peta smile, no matter how many times a day she heard that particular tale. It made her feel good – like she'd done something right.)

On the plus side, Happy didn't seem all that fussed about Peta. Sure, the guy was pleasant enough and the civility was there whenever they awkwardly shuffled past one another in hallways, but there was nothing underneath. It was all surface talk, superfluous. The only time Happy paid any attention to her was when May mandated it, and Happy always complied with a sickeningly sweet smile, pandering to May's every whim.

The guy's so whipped, Peta thought, amused for about half a second before the image of her uncle flashed in her head and wiped the smile clean off.

Whenever Peta spoke, it was with calm disinterest that Happy indulged her. Which was fine. Actually, better than fine because the last thing he needed was for the man to get Spider-Man shaped alarm bells ringing in his head.

And, yeah, in another life, the obviously feigned interest in Peta’s life would have stung, but in this one all Peta could do was heave a great sigh of relief. As it was, Peta wasn't falling over herself to impress the guy. She had enough problems of her own, and only a handful of them were school related.

Yet, if she was being totally honest with herself, it was more than just fear of her dual identity being hashed out. For so long now, it had been just May and Peta, sans Ben. Peta’d only just gotten used to the quiet life, the life without the calm authority of Uncle Ben, the man who was always equipped with a hot chocolate and a stupendous anecdote that never failed to alleviate whatever stresses had befallen a young Peta. A kid not burdened with notions of stopping crime with her bare fists.

Catching criminals is not my responsibility–

No. She wasn’t going there.

But. Yeah. The point was: Happy wasn't a replacement for her dead uncle. Not by a long shot. (And, anyway, that kind of thinking was moving way too fast.)

Yet, maybe... maybe she could use Happy's connections to the high life for good. Get herself a job, help Aunt May out with the rent, and actually get around to adding that smoke filter to her suit. Speaking of – she could do with updating her suit. The various cuts and scrapes and near misses had taken their toll on the trusty material, the only visible scarring of the wounds she had accumulated over the years.

With her half-baked plan already forming in her head, it didn't take long for Peta to muster up the nerve to ask Happy for that favour. All she needed was for him to point out some good job openings, maybe fling in a nice reference while he was at it. It was actually one of the most reasonable requests a teenager could ask. She was almost proud of herself. Look at me: practically adulting in the real world.

Happy's eyebrows had risen so far up his head when Peta suggested it, she half thought he'd never find them again. She patiently waited for him to quickly put himself back together again, and was appeased by his careful, "Just let me see what I can do."

~

Which was how, a week later, Peta found herself in the presence of one of the greatest people of all time: Mrs. Potts (the woman had kept her maiden name when married, something Peta greatly admired about her). And she was about to be interviewed for a job that actually sounded pretty damn amazing: being Morgan Stark's weekend babysitter.

Nervous? How'd you figure that one out?

Peta tugged self-consciously at her science T-shirt, inferiority curling in her gut. Next to the CEO of Stark Industries and a formidable businesswoman at that, Peta stood out like a sore thumb.

All in all, it wasn't the worst first impression she had given but it wasn't exactly the glittering five-star Peta Parker experience she'd been hoping for either.

(Sometimes, she wondered why she even bothered. Her ill-timed Parker Luck™ always had it out for her regardless.)

"Ms. Parker. Thank you for coming. Happy has told me about you." She motioned to the million-dollar sofa. "Please, have a seat."

Peta nodded shakily and complied.

Mrs. Potts softened infinitesimally, no doubt picking up on Peta's nervous energy. Peta had the mind to inwardly chastise herself for her restlessness - she'd fought off muggers and petty thieves, even a couple of supervillains. She could handle a job interview.

...right?

"Don't look so worried, kid. I don't bite."

Peta forced a light smile on her face and forced herself to relax. 

Mrs. Potts started off with standard interview questions: why do you want the job? What would you say are your greatest strengths? What would you say are your greatest weaknesses? Why should I hire you?

Seeing as she couldn't tailor her answers to her identity reveal, that she was Spider-Man, she answered them as best she could, tension melting away with every passing second. She was thankful she'd done enough research and preparation beforehand so she was equipped to handle this. Peta was nothing if not diligent, after all.

"Is this your first job?"

"Um, no." Upon registering the politely interested face of her interviewer, she elaborated, "I interned at Oscorp for a bit." More like low-key spied at Oscorp for a bit – until both incarnations of the Green Goblin persona were dealt with, and the institute was thereby closed.

Thank you, Spider-Man.

Mrs. Potts briefly glanced down at what Peta assumed was her résumé. "You didn't put that down," she said evenly.

Peta shrugged. The less Mrs. Potts knew about her, the better.

She was spared having to answer the question she could see Mrs. Potts was already forming, by the arrival of the little girl in question, who ran straight into her mother's arms.

"Morgan," Mrs. Potts admonished quietly, yet there was a warm smile dancing in her eyes regardless, "did you run away from Uncle Rhodey again?"

Morgan nodded, dark eyes never once leaving Peta's figure on the sofa. Her entire outfit was dressed in vibrant red, clashing with her dark brown hair. There was a spark of curiosity aflame in her expression, probably wondering who the stranger in her house was.

Right. This was the time for introductions.

Wearing her most dazzling smile, Peta hunched over so she was more or less Morgan's height. "Hi, Morgan. My name's Peta. Peta Parker. It's nice to meet you."

Morgan repeated the welcome, frown still prominent on her forehead. "Peta's a boy's name," she told her, with all the haughtier a five-year-old could muster.

Peta grinned, waving off Mrs. Potts' apologies on behalf of her daughter. Peta was used to comments such as these. "My parents were hoping for a boy," she explained. "But then I was a girl. Which is so much cooler than being a boy, right?"

The little girl gifted Peta with a little giggle, loosening a taut knot in her chest that Peta didn't even know was there.

Looking back up at Mrs. Potts, Peta was met with an expression of distinct approval, like she'd passed some test.

Mrs. Potts then turned to her daughter, whispering for Morgan to go and find Colonel Rhodes, to which she heartily agreed to. She skipped away, a bounce in her step.

"She has a very colourful wardrobe," Peta said after a beat, accompanied with a slight laugh.

"Red's her favourite colour," Mrs. Potts explained, fondly.

"For Iron Man?"

Mrs. Potts chuckled, daintily. "No. Not for Iron Man, thank god. Tony's head is big enough already. No, it's for Spider-Man."

Peta felt as though she'd been punched, winded. "Spider-Man?"

"Yeah. He's her favourite superhero. The others are all jealous, of course. I swear Tony's determined to track down his true identity out of vengeance."

While she had phrased it lightheartedly, Peta couldn't help the sliver of fear that arose. She couldn't be sure that he wouldn't pull such a stunt.

Peta opened her mouth to reply, but then abruptly clamped her jaw shut when Mr. Stark finally walked into the room, and her senses were immediately flooded with a myriad of conflicting emotions she had neither the time nor effort to unpack.

It was disconcerting to see Tony Stark actually in the flesh for the first time in two years – to see the man behind the tin can. The last time she'd seen him, sans Iron Man, she had been the one in a mask (and yes, it was her original, crude Spider-suit, before she'd upgraded it) and he had been offering her the job of her dreams: to be an Avenger.

Because apparently that was the kind of thing that happened when you crash rich billionaires' invisible planes. Go figure.

That wasn't to say that Spider-Man hadn't bumped into Iron Man around the block once or twice, but those instances were few and far between, especially now that Mr. Stark had allegedly traded in the superhero life for quiet retirement.

Peta held out her hand but was brushed off by a dismissive wave. Her hero still hadn't once looked at her.

"Sorry, yeah. Hi, bye, thanks for coming, etc. Think we can skip past the formalities? I'm on to something here."

And then Mr. Stark disappeared, walking out of Peta's periphery just like that – as though the man's fleeting presence hadn't just upended Peta’s whole life.

She cast a confused expression to Mrs. Potts, who hid her smirk behind her hand with all the grace of a highly successful businesswoman who'd spent most of her life dealing with her husband's turbulent mood swings.

"Yeah. He does that," she said. "Sometimes I wonder who the child of the family really is." Mrs. Potts turned back to where Mr. Stark had vanished and called for his return in a tone of exasperation.

Peta was so lost. So caught off-kilter. She managed a weak chuckle regardless. She was pretty sure that had been an inviting joke. Peta couldn't tell anymore. This was easily shaping up to be the most surreal, bizarre experience of her young life – and, coming from the person who shared DNA with a house spider, was saying A Lot.

Mr. Stark returned with a quiet grumble, setting down his work on the table beside them. However, in her haste to greet her legendary hero, she accidentally sent his work all tumbling to the floor. Amidst her frantic apologies, she quickly gathered up the loose papers before he'd even bent down. Her eyes briefly scanned his work, catching an error in one of his equations, before she placed it back on the table. Her face was as red as a tomato by the time she'd finished.

"This is why I hate high schoolers," Mr. Stark muttered under his breath in perfect Italian, voice pitched so low that, were it not for her enhanced senses, there was no way she would have been able to pick it up.

But she had.

Peta stilled at the familiar language. Her aunt was fluent in Italian, having grown up there, and when Peta was younger, when she had first moved in with her aunt and uncle, May had taken to whispering soothing words of comfort in her mother tongue whenever sleep evaded her. That then led to Peta shyly asking May to teach her how to speak Italian, and the bond between the two grew.

She had no idea Mr. Stark spoke Italian too and definitely not as well as he had. She felt that that was something she should have known about the man – surely the tabloids would have picked up on his second language acquisition.

Then again... he probably saved it for moments such as these. To be able to spout out his true feelings whenever he wanted, with his present company being none the wiser. Peta had to hand it to the man – it was a genius move.

Of course, Mr. Stark hadn't banked on her also speaking Italian, so she sequestered that little nugget of information away. Best let Mr. Stark believe he had the upper hand. For now.

That didn't mean his initial assumption of her as nothing more than a blithering idiot of a schoolgirl stung any less and before she knew what she was doing, the words were out of her mouth:

"If you’re worried that I won’t be able to look after Morgan if there was an emergency,” she found herself saying without preamble, filter temporarily switched off in the face of all this craziness, and still smarting from the veiled insult, “don’t be. I can protect her.”

Mr. Stark started, apparently only noticing the additional presence in his frankly enormous penthouse. (It was okay – Peta Parker was pretty forgettable.) Although, he only quickly scanned her for about a millisecond before turning away in an obvious dismissal.

"Kid, you couldn't even open a ketchup bottle."

Oh no he didn't. "You'd be surprised." Just yesterday she had stopped a wayward truck from careening off the road. With her bare hands, might she add.

(Okay. Her hands were clad in her spider suit. But the sentiment still stood.)

Besides, she could rip chunks off the Iron Man armour if she wanted. Bet Mr. Stark wouldn't be laughing then.

Mr. Stark raised a pointed brow. He angled his body toward her, seemingly a little more invested in this battle of wills despite his inaccurate assessment of her strength, both mentally and physically.

"I'm stronger than I look," she said. "Seriously."

"Yeah, no offence, but you're beanstalk," he countered. "Seriously."

How could she possibly be offended?

After a pointed elbow from who she assumed to be Mrs. Potts, Mr. Stark coughed and amended his statement: "But, uh, I'm sure you'll grow."

Nice. Very subtle. And not at all patronising – gold star to Mr. Stark for superb effort.

The mortification that supplemented his jibes, combined with the fact that Mr. Stark was actually something of an asshole in real life, was her only excuse for her following foolhardy comments.

"Oh, Mr. Stark?"

Mr. Stark turned slowly, every inch of his posture screaming that he was only humouring her.

Gesturing to his hastily scrawled calculations, she said, "Maybe try it inverted. You might have a better shot at actually figuring it out." She paused. "Just a thought."

Mrs. Potts stifled her growing smirk behind her hand. Mr. Stark's eyes were round with shock. Peta was sure that same surprise was reflected in her own; she couldn't believe she had the audacity to correct one of the smartest people in the world. And on what? A whim? God, she was an idiot.

Unfortunately, even as Mrs. Potts shuffled her paper and Mr. Stark cleared his throat, shooting a sneaky glance at his work as he did so, to try and erase her utter stupidity, Peta felt that whatever good impression she had carefully constructed had fallen to pieces.

~

Peta did her best to forget her disastrous interview attempt, although it was kind of a moot point when Happy paraded around her apartment like a giant neon sign, reminding her every single time she saw him. Which then prompted May to inquire, with a little more interest than her boyfriend, what happened and how did it go and when was she likely to hear back.

Gulping as she did so, Peta mustered a half smile and a fake, "Great."

In an effort to ward off the humiliation that threatened to consume her, Peta threw herself into everything she could think of – helping May out with the chores, decathlon practice and general schoolwork, patrolling. It worked. By the time she heard a week later, she'd practically forgotten she'd even applied.

~

Peta got the job.

~

She didn't make a decision right away. She had a few days in which to accept the position and she was more than happy to take advantage of that time. Peta stayed awake all night that night, tossing and turning. Her mind was stuck on an endless loop, swinging back and forth on a fragile web, alternating between yes, take the job and are you out of your mind?

It was exhausting.

And her grouchy mood was only aggravated by the addition of the night time adventures of Happy and May. Which meant that, instead of loosing sleep due to her inability to reach a sound decision, she lost sleep because she was forced to listen to music through her earphones in order to cancel out those sounds. 

Wrong on so many levels.

By the time she made it to the end of the school day, she was no closer to her answer, and she collapsed onto her decathlon seat next to her best friend with an audible sigh.

"Wow. You look tired. What time did you get back from patrol?"

Peta shot Ned a look she'd cultivated from years of Spider-Manning and bone-deep exhaustion.

Ned's expression turned sympathetic. "That bad, huh?"

She grimaced. "Worse. Happy stayed the night."

He instantly recoiled. "Oh, no."

"Yep. Thank god for the invention of headphones." Groaning, she slammed her forehead onto the cool metal desk in front of her and morbidly wondered whether the force would be enough to actually knock her out. That way she could get some sleep. "Super hearing sucks."

"What's up, dorks?"

Peta instantly sprung up like a jack-in-the-box, startling Ned so much he damn near shat himself.

"Hey, MJ," she said.

Apparently, she'd misjudged the ferocity of the greeting, for MJ reared back as though she'd been struck by Peta's overabundant enthusiasm.

Ned barely refrained from cackling. Peta could hear his pathetic attempts at smothering them, so loud in her ear that it was like he was screaming them. Which was so unfair and totally not cool.

"Hi, Peta," MJ tentatively replied, face a blank mask. Peta struggled to get a read on it.

Peta opened her mouth to continue the conversation, unwilling to let it die between them, but she floundered for words, abandoned in her time of need. By the time she'd settled on an adequate response, MJ had taken her customary seat as decathlon captain.  

Great, Peta thought morosely, inwardly berating herself. She was supposed to have quick reflexes. What the hell was that?

Beside her, Ned snorted. "Dude. You are so besotted."

Peta could feel the rising heat burning her cheeks, and knew just what to say to distract him from her pathetically one-sided crush.

And sure enough...

“You met Captain America?”

"Keep your voice down," she hissed, quickly turning her head to the side to check no one was listening – no one ever was, though.

Turning back around, her frown deepened as her best friend’s love-struck expression ceased to disappear.

"Okay," she said. "You are definitely focusing on the wrong part of the story."

Ned waved a dismissive hand. "You're Spider-Man, you get shot all the time. You don't always have handsome super-soldiers carrying you bridal-style."

"Stop fantasising about Captain America," she told him, before flicking his ear. Poor Ned was so lost in his own little world he didn't notice the hits.

Mr. Harrington's arrival was the only thing that could break Ned out of his stupor. He blinked furiously as the rest of the decathlon members filed in, respective hushing cancelling cancelling any further chatter.

Ned didn't move any closer to Peta as he whispered into his desk, confident in her hearing abilities, "We still on for this Saturday?"

Peta smiled wide, shifting towards her best friend. Enthusiasm coloured her tone. "Of course. You bring the snacks; I'll bring the genius."

Their monthly excursions to Midtown on Saturday nights (yes, they were technically breaking and entering and yes, Peta did feel a little bad about that) was a well-oiled routine that enabled her to both improve her suit in an environment where there were some science equipment available and also helped her devise new and improved versions of her web fluid, with her Guy in the Chair.

Okay. Well. It was mostly a glorified sleepover. At school. At night.

But hey. Spider-Man was a nerd. These things were to be expected.

~

Late on Saturday evening, after a particularly impressive concoction of new taser webs, found Peta and Ned lounging out on separate science desks, candy wrappers and chocolate strewn haphazardly across the work station. The quiet blanketed around them, keeping them safe. Peta's thoughts were running a mile a minute, too wild and crazy to settle down and let her dissect them one by one.

She had grown so accustomed to the calm silence that her Spidey Sense failed to warn her of Ned's comment until she'd already jumped at the unexpected intrusion.

"So, you gonna take the job?" Ned asked in the height of an e-number induced sugar high.

Peta paused around the mouthful of chocolate wedged in her cheeks.

"I dunno, man," she admitted after swallowing. "I mean, on the one hand, I'd be crazy not to – you should see how much they're paying me – and Morgan is a cute kid so it'd probably be fun..." She bit her lip, deep in thought.

"But?" Ned prodded gently.

Peta released a deep sigh. "I'm gonna be around Tony Stark. Iron Man. He's got his A.I. hooked up into every room of every building. How long until he catches on to who I really am?"

That was the root of it; what it always came back to. Spider-Man. The web-head. She couldn't risk her identity being found out, not even to her all-time favourite superhero.

She just... couldn't.

"I still think you're crazy for not taking that fundraising money."

It took her a moment to piece together what Ned was saying, but when she did, she allowed herself to faintly smile at the memory.

A couple months ago, someone had started a petition to get Spider-Man the recognition they felt he deserved, for all of his continued hard work into wiping up the streets of Queens. 

(There was an extremely eye-watering amount from Stark Industries that made Peta nauseous just thinking about it.)

In the end, she hadn't been able to flat-out reject the money, not after all the donations she'd received and the outright generosity people had given her, but nor could she accept it herself. Instead, she had split the money between charities that benefited a lot more people who were in greater need than she was.

"You'd have been set for life," Ned added wistfully.

Peta rolled her eyes and punched his arm.

~

She took the job. She decided it while deflecting blows from an irate drug lord. What could she say? She needed the money.

~

Turned out, Peta was bang on the money in regards to her new babysitting gig. It was almost frightening how fast Peta adjusted to her new responsibility. Morgan was an excellent kid, one that Peta looked forward to hanging out with every weekend. Morgan and Peta got along like a house on fire. (Literally, that one time. God, she shuddered even now to think of that. Easily one of the scariest moments of her life.) Between the robotics competitions in which Morgan always won – it was that Stark genius; totally unfair on the opposition – and the food fights that always ended with Peta having to call it quits when the house become more mess than cleanliness, a bond had formed between them.

Peta had no qualms for laying down her life for Morgan Stark.

For the most part, life carried on exactly as it always had. In spite of the glorious craziness that came with being Morgan Stark's babysitter, not much changed. Sure, Happy was around more often as his and May's relationship progressed – they'd just recently announced their three-month anniversary, a milestone Peta didn't even dare unpack. On the whole, though, life was good. Peta still beat up criminals on the side, still continued saving as many lives as she could. Luckily, she hadn't had the opportunity to test out her brand new smoke filter, but the updates she'd installed into her suit with the money her employers so generously gave worked wonders. 

The whirlwind continued escalating and, before she knew it, she was already weeks into her new job and still managing to juggle all the various aspects of her life simultaneously.

Being Morgan Stark's babysitter was like a reward all in itself, requiring no hard work on her part. She would play with the little girl, feed her (she was suddenly grateful for May's atrocious culinary skills; it made Peta learn how to stand on her own two feet in that respect), and then, if she was asked to stay longer, she would put Morgan to bed. Afterwards, if she wasn't too drained, she would attempt to complete her outstanding schoolwork before the pile grew out of her control.

Mrs. Potts occasionally dropped by to check in on Morgan whenever she had a free minute to spare during the day. Mr. Stark was around even less, a fact Peta was immeasurably thankful for. Just because he'd practically retired his superhero life didn't mean his work was finished. Far from it, in fact. Between funding the Avengers and building their tech, to building new tech for S.I., Mr. Stark was seriously stretched thin. Peta wondered how he managed it all when he had Iron Man to contend with as well.

Sometimes, Peta would stay the night with Morgan on the weekends, with both Mrs. Potts and Mr. Stark busy with their respective schedules – both S.I. business and dealing with the Avengers. It wasn't so bad. The first time, Peta was a gigantic mess, trying to make sure everything was pristine and running smoothly to make the transition easier for Morgan. Of course, she was Peta Parker so nothing went according to plan – thankfully, Morgan Stark was an even bigger nightmare than she was, though, so it balanced out.

Morgan told Peta about a lake-house in the country, a private retreat that only close friends and family were permitted entrance to. Peta understood that need – a place to chill, to unwind without any pressure to be a larger-than-life superhero. Sometimes it took all of her willpower not to hightail it out of the city the first chance she got.

~

"I can't – I'm stuck on a question," Peta said in response to Morgan's call for extra playtime the following weekend, in spite of the late hour. (Peta didn't know why she bothered trying to refuse; she wasn't fooling anyone, everyone knew Morgan Stark had her wrapped around her pinky finger.) Peta meant to sound apologetic but feared that her frustration with the innocently-looking algebraic question bled through her tone regardless.

Morgan peered over her shoulder. "Six."

Peta froze. "What? No, sorry – how on earth did you get that? I've been stuck on that question all day."

She rolled her eyes. The cheek! "Honestly, Petey, that was kinda easy."

Easy?

There was no way in hell she’d just been outsmarted, outmanoeuvred, by a little girl. Whatever. She was just... exhausted! Yeah, that was it. Didn't you know? Being Spider-Man was taxing work. Peta was definitely not just shown up by a five-year-old girl, even if she did have those genius Stark genetics.

She cleared her throat. "Go away please, Morgan," she joked, noting down the unfortunately correct answer.

Morgan just smiled.

"But I'm cold."

"Then go and stand in a corner," Peta said, deadpan. "You'll find they're usually ninety degrees."

"Petey."

"Morgan."

Their tense Mexican standoff – complete with unwavering eye contact, brandishing matching neutral expressions that dared the other to initiate contact – was aborted when Morgan suddenly burst into a fit of giggles. Coincidentally, that was also revealed to be the straw that broke this spider-camel's back, for Peta could not withhold her own guffaws at their antics.

(Plus, laughter was a good stress reliever. And when you just so happen to be carrying around giant luggage named Spider-Man, you learn to take what you can get.)

"You're so stupid," Morgan helpfully pointed out, once her chuckles subsided long enough to form a grammatical sentence. It was punctuated with the odd snicker, but Peta was willing to overlook that.

Peta faked a gasp. "Why, how dare you. After all I've done for you." She shook her head dramatically. "I can't even look at you."

Of course, her actions only caused the little devil-child to dissolve once more into a fit of giggles.

"Time for bed now, Morgs," Peta declared, dropping her homework sheets to the side and scooping up her favourite little kid in her free arms.

"No," Morgan whined against Peta's shoulder. "'S not time yet."

"Oh, yes it is. Time for tired little Starks to go to sleep."

"You're just mad 'cause I'm smarter than you."

"Oh, yeah. You are so smart, and I am so jealous. Still means you have to go to bed."

Their exchange continued all the way until they reached Morgan's bedroom. Peta carefully planted Morgan on her feet and directed her to the en-suite bathroom to get her teeth brushed, while she laid out pyjamas for Morgan to put on when she got back.

Once Morgan was all ready and tucked up in her bed, Peta got up.

"What are you doing?"

"Uh, getting a bedtime story. Wow, you have a lot of books. D'you have a favourite?"

"Daddy tells me stories about Spider-Man," Morgan interjected around a yawn. "My favourite is the one with the Washington Monument."

Yeah, that one was kinda Spider-Man's fault, she wanted to say but her mind shorted out.

The knowledge that Mr. Stark had been following her work so closely was unsettling – speaking of: why the hell hadn't her Spidey Sense alerted her to the superhero-level stalking? – yet at the same time, Peta couldn't deny that it made her glow. Having Iron Man watch her back from afar, and expect nothing in return, was actually something of a relief. The fact that Spider-Man's achievements were celebrated by her hero made her feel warm all over. Like she'd just unlocked some special level in one of Ned's video games, or been given a shiny gold medal for her accomplishments.

Or maybe she was just tired. It was possible.

Peta was aware that she'd been silent for a while now, so she quickly redirected her attention to the girl staring at her with expectation.

"Okay," she said, swallowing back her emotional emotions. "Well, I don't know whether I'll be as good a storyteller as your Daddy, but I'll try. If that's alright?"

And with that, Morgan Stark punctuated her approval with a yawn, settling back down against the backdrop of her Black Widow pillows, and listened with rapt attention as Peta entertained her with the kiddy-friendly version of the time Spider-Man heroically stopped a Grand Theft Bicycle, feat. one lady with a churro (that last part was important).

~

It was a perfectly normal Saturday, one where Peta had gotten up early to travel to the Tower to look after Morgan, when out of nowhere, both Mr. Stark and Mrs. Potts arrived. Apparently their schedules were cleared, some Stark Industries business proposal had gone better than expected, so Morgan's parents were free for the afternoon. 

Well. Mrs. Potts was. Mr. Stark was holed down in the lab, forgoing all basic human needs in favour of apparently chasing after some scientific breakthrough.

"He gets like this sometimes," Mrs. Potts told her in quiet tones. "Usually, it's when he has one of his insane ideas. He hasn't done it in a while, though."

After another hour of Mr. Stark's absence, Peta volunteered to go and collect the man. Mrs. Potts raised a brow when Peta offered but, as her hands were tied with Morgan, she had little option but to comply to Peta's hasty offer to go in her stead. 

So Peta was traipsing down the long corridors to Mr. Stark's lab, relying on F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s navigation skills. Peta made a mental note to memorise F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s base code when she saw it, sure that she – fine, Ned – could configure some device that could temporarily scramble the A.I.'s readings if Spider-Man ever needed to make a hasty retreat. Which was not out of the realm of possibility when you just so happened to be an undercover superhero.

That was when she saw it.

She felt her breath catch in her throat as she glimpsed the lone suit. Standing resplendent, bedecked in red and blue, with just a dash of majestic gold – bearing the mark of its creator – was the Iron Spider. The suit Tony Stark had custom-made for her web-slinging alter ego, exacting a promise from her to join the Avengers.

The responsibility Peta had turned down.

This time, Peta's Spidey Sense warned her of Mr. Stark's steady approach and she schooled her features into something more appropriate than jaw-dropping.

"What's that?" Peta heard herself ask weakly, cutting off any of his own questions. (As though she didn't already know.) She was unable to tear her eyes away from the sight. It truly was magnificent. The genius really had outdone himself.

Mr. Stark hummed noncommittally before finally turning to see what had captured Peta's attention. "Oh, that? That's just something I've been working on." The note of pride in the man's voice as he too admired his invention was not lost on her.

Nor was the use of the present tense. Mr. Stark has been working on it? Peta had rejected that gift two years ago, and – Mr. Stark was still working on it? Some tiny part of her was irritated by that knowledge. It was more than a little presumptuous of him, to assume that Peta would go back on her word so readily after her refusal. Yet another part was slightly touched that Mr. Stark was still making adjustments to the suit, tweaking it in accordance with the advances in his own tech. Keeping it up to date for Spider-Man to dip his toe into, should the need every strike him.

Peta was hyper aware that she'd been staring at the Iron Spider, unblinking, for far longer than was considered normal. She'd have to pass this off as nothing more than the flight of a fan-girl; though, whether for Spider-Man or the genius standing before her was anyone's guess.

"I didn't know you and Spider-Man were friends." She made sure to inject just a dash of awe in her voice as he spoke. (And, God, if only her drama teacher could see her now. Surely she'd reconsider that C- on her last practical.)

"Hm? Oh, we're not. He's kind of an introvert on the superhero scene. Prefers to do everything alone, that kind of thing," Tony said.

Peta had to stifle a snort. That was the understatement of the century.

"He's got a kind of a Springsteen-y, working class hero vibe that I dig." Peta was surprised why Mr. Stark sounded so down about that. "He's just too damn proud to ask for help."

Woah, woah, woah. Hold up. Spider-Man wasn't proud, as such. He just wasn't a shiny-gold charity case for rich billionaires to dump wads of dollar bills in.

And besides, the whole working-class, struggling superhero, motivated purely by noble intentions to do right by his city was the very foundation of Spider-Man. More so than the enhanced genetic make-up, Spider-Man was a symbol composed to look out for the little guys, the ones who struggled to make ends meet and ended up in the wrong crowd because of it. The ones who selflessly put themselves in harm's way time and again, despite having no freaky arachnid DNA to back themselves up – those were the people who made Spider-Man who he was.

"He'll never accept it, you know. Spider-Man." Peta blurted against her better judgement. Mr. Stark frowned deep; Peta could see the lines bite into his flesh from the corner of his eye.

Motivated by spite from Mr. Stark's earlier comments, she nodded toward the Iron Spider and said simply, "Too flashy."

Mr. Stark crossed his arms over his chest. "The guy's a superhero," he said bluntly – and a little defensively, to Peta. "He stops bad guys for a living. He's gotta stand out. A little flash is required."

Peta wrinkled her nose. Spider-Man wasn't meant to stand out.

"But that's not his way," Peta argued against her better knowledge. Mr. Stark raised his brow at her impromptu comment but otherwise remained silent, egging Peta on with his quiet assessment. "Spider-Man isn't a superhero. He doesn't fight intergalactic aliens and somehow still make it home in time for tea. He's..." She desperately wracked her brain for an adequate description for her arachnid half. "He's the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man."

Alright. Not the best summary of her heroic endeavours. Going by the slightly condescending smirk already curving Mr. Stark's lips, it hadn't done the trick.

"The friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man?”

Peta bristled. "Yeah. He's just looking out for the little guys. The guys who fall through the cracks because nobody's looking out for them. Spider-Man's got their backs."

There was a momentary silence in which Peta was sure she was being dissected underneath Mr. Stark's microscopic gaze. 

"I didn't know you were so well-versed on the web-head," Mr. Stark said bluntly, face impassive.

"Yeah, well." Peta shrugged evasively. "He's from Queens. Us New Yorkers gotta stick together."

Mr. Stark made a sound, low in his throat, pensive and thoughtful. He turned to appraise his invention, making sidelong glances at Peta as he did so.

Peta had to resist the urge to fidget as the awkward silence eclipsed their prior conversation.

Suddenly Mr. Stark whirled back round. His eyes were aflame with inventive curiosity, lighting up his whole countenance and wiping the evidence of age from his face.

"Alright. Give me the lay down of your pal Spider-Man. You can aid me in adjusting the suit. We'll call it an internship, or something."

Peta was sure her face reflected her incredulity perfectly as she retorted, "You sure this has nothing to do with that article claiming Stark Industries needed to 'get in touch with the future generations'?" Said article also proposed work experience and internships should become the norm for successful corporations such as S.I., instead of the exception. (Peta wholeheartedly agreed – Ned, MJ and herself had all ferociously debated the topic in the canteen earlier, before Peta had become preoccupied with her thoughts about MJ that was.)

A beat. "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds bad." Mr. Stark's tone was unapologetically blasé. "Don't think about it like that. Just." He clicked his fingers. "Think of it as: just helping out your local superhero, while working with a local superhero. Y'know. Something like that."

"Working with a retired local superhero," she said but already she could feel the traitorous grin threaten to emerge. The knowledge that Mr. Stark wasn't recruiting her out of some disastrous attempt at philanthropic charity – although, technically he was for her alter ego but that was a whole 'nother can of worms she had neither the time nor effort to interpret – made it easier for her to accept. Very quickly, giddy excitement replaced her previous hesitation. What could she say? Tony Stark was her personal hero.

And anyway, she was still going to turn down this hypothetical gorgeous suit when it was made so it wasn't as though Peta was taking advantage of his generosity. The opposite in fact. And she would refuse any monetary benefits – this was just about the work. High school internships were largely unpaid, and she sure as hell didn't deserve any special treatment just because she liked to swing around the city in a red-and-blue costume.

Plus, this way she could discreetly pose her own superhero-related inquires in a manner that wasn't quite as obvious.

Okay. Yeah. Now Peta was grinning. Her plan was foolproof. It was a win-win situation.

Turning to Mr. Stark with her best, most dazzling smile, she said, "How soon can I start?"

Chapter Text

It was shocking how quickly her internship was drafted and finalised after her acceptance of Mr. Stark's offer. Peta knew that money made the world go 'round but Jesus, she had no idea just how ludicrously fast it spun at the say-so of rich billionaires. Just a week after Mr. Stark first proffered it, she had already signed the official documentation, and received the honour of being the very first high school intern at Stark Industries.

Her internship coincidentally fell the Friday afternoon following school. With the quick chauffeur skills of Happy, Peta was upon Stark Tower within the hour. She and Mr. Stark would then tinker with the Spider-Man suit for a few hours until Mrs. Potts came down and exasperatedly called for Mr. Stark to hurry up because Happy was waiting for him – apparently business meetings predominantly occurred on Fridays. (Peta had never seen Mr. Stark's face grow so pale the more irate Mrs. Potts became – Peta relished in it.) By which time, Morgan would be all snuggled up in bed and then Peta was on babysitting duty for the better part of the weekend.

Weeks passed and Peta found herself settling into her new job. All in all, it was a comfortable routine. Of course, it varied depending on the Starks' respective timetables and Peta's own schedule, though she was largely flexible so long as she managed to squeeze in those few hours for her patrols. Crime stopped for no woman, irrespective of personal availability. But, yeah. It was a nice change of pace and Peta always looked forward to hanging out at the Tower, whether that be occasionally giving Mrs. Potts a hand with the cooking whenever the overworked CEO had a minute to spare with her family, learning from Mr. Stark or simply chatting with Morgan. Even spending time with Happy in a formal capacity had her gradually opening up to him, thawing a little.

Mr. Stark had a propensity for moving fast with little to no thought behind the action. That was okay, though; Peta was labouring under no false assumptions. She knew her internship was more for a novelty than a genuine job, no matter her smarts – Mr. Stark's way of perhaps including her in Happy's life more as a favour for a friend. Or maybe as a side-lined pet project of his, something to keep him amused when she inevitably messed up. The thought should probably be more off-putting than it was, but. Honestly? The idea of actually working alongside The Tony Stark was rendering any moral objections null and void.

Nevertheless, Mrs. Potts always made it a point to mention that Peta always had a room with the Starks, wherever they were. Aunt May would jokingly refer to them as Peta's "second home", yet Peta privately doubted the validity of that claim. Part of her was convinced that the Starks had only taken her in out of pity, a philanthropic gesture meant to placate the poor young orphan who babysat their daughter, while the other part was screaming that they were only taking an interest in Peta to allow May and Happy's relationship to progress.

Peta was uncertain as to which scenario she preferred.

In any case, for the first time in what felt like years, she was enjoying a welcome respite from her hectic life, perched on the edge of a building. Patrol had been unusually quiet, not that Peta was complaining. On the contrary – it was nice to have five minutes to herself, to just soak in the feel of her city from the outside looking in.

Her peaceful watch was interrupted by the dramatic entrance of her favourite mercenary dropping in beside her.

"Hey, Mr. Pool."

The red-and-black clad figure wagged an impatient finger at her. "Now, c'mon. None of that." He paused. "You know it's Sir. Pool."

She couldn't help it; she snorted.

"Or you can just call me your delightful murder daddy," he added cheerfully, seemingly delighting in her amusement. "I'm not fussy."

"Oh, yeah? How's business going, anyway? Kill any traffickers lately?" Belatedly, remembering the absolute carnage Wade relished in regaling her with the last time she was foolish enough to ask, "On second thoughts, I really don’t wanna know."

He merely shrugged, unperturbed. "Suit yourself."

Wade was about the only person she had willingly divulged her true name to, after a joint operation with Spider-Man and Deadpool against a bunch of rival gangs had ended with her taking a knife meant for Wade. She had woken up, still decked in her Spider suit, mask discarded on the floor, in Wade's apartment, with both him and his wife, Vanessa, struggling to put together a meal for her.

(After she'd had some food in her belly, Wade had taken the opportunity to politely inform her that, as he was a regenerative mutant, he could easily have taken the knife himself, but that he appreciated her gesture nonetheless.)

Who would have thought the notorious Merc with a Mouth was actually a nice guy? Once you got past all the killing and torture and all.

"What're you doing up here, anyway, Spidey?" Wade continued. "A little birdy told me you're moving up in the world – heard that Robert Downey Jr. lookalike hired you to become his new superhero bodyguard."

Fabulous. More hyperbolic drivel to contend with; it wasn't as though her personal life was in tatters.

"Was that little birdy the news?"

"A gentleman never tells." A beat. "But yes, it was. Nobody ever tells me anything these days."

"Probably because you talk so much no one can get a word in edgewise."

Wade placed a hand on his chest and faked a gasp that never failed to cause her lips to stretch wide in a genuine smile. "Moi? That's very hurtful, Spidey. I'll have you know I'm an excellent conversationalist. People from all across the globe come and tell me all sorts of things, and I lap it all up." Wade paused.

"Whatcha doing, Spidey? You never actually said, you just sighed and flopped like a teenager.”

"Nothin'."

"Nothin'? Wow, you are just the epitome of teenage angst, aren't you? Unless that was a deliberate typo in an effort to be 'down with the kids'."

"What are you doing here, Wade?"

Wade managed a small wave. "Hello, dear readers. What a pleasant surprise to see you all gathered here. Hope you're enjoying the story so far. I imagine it's hard, being told from the point-of-view of a seventeen-year-old kid with a penchant for dramatising superheroics."

"Wade," she said monotonously. "Stop talking to the voices in your head."

Wade huffed. "Bit hypocritical, coming from someone with split personality disorder."

"I do not have–”

"You have been masquerading as a man in red-and-blue fighting crime for the past three years. You do not have the right to lecture me."

Peta grumbled but otherwise had to concede the point.

"Did you like the present I left you?"

She reeled from the topic switch for about half a second – it was a regular occurrence, sadly – before she quickly adjusted. She had a sneaking suspicion she knew who he was on about... "Is that the paedophile who had half his tongue ripped out?"

He clapped gleefully. "Yep. Someone's a clever clogs." Then, somewhat serious: "He was yelling to all his mates what he would do to that 'spider-freak' if he had the chance. Taking his tongue was the least I could do."

Peta shuddered. Part of her was touched at his show of defence, yet her morals fervently cried out in opposition.

"Still. That's disturbed," she told him.

"Can't argue with that one." Then, she had the impression Wade was making a face behind his suit as he answered his comms, "Are you kidding me? I gave you specific instructions not to touch that. Goddammit, Colossus." To her, he sighed and said that his mutant buddies had done A Very Terrible Thing™ and he would have to go and be the hero once again.

"Being a hero is taxing business, Spidey," he said in parting, basking her once more in solitude.

Yep, she thought. It truly is.

~

Case in point, not a week later: New York. Aliens. Loki. Again.

Would she ever catch a break?

Thor made a point to furiously defend his brother's antics, claiming that Loki meant the gesture in good faith; a stand of nostalgia, or something. A final hurrah, if you will, before the God of Mischief retired his villainous lifestyle.

... Yeah. Peta wasn't buying it, either.

"I'm supposed to be in Spanish class," she muttered to herself, wondering what excuse Ned had offered on her behalf, just as an alien bomb erupted not ten feet away. The weapons were similar to those Mr. Toomes sold and used, so she was somewhat accustomed to their capabilities and restraints – a fact she took great pleasure in taking advantage of.

She still felt iffy about killing aliens – no matter the species or where they hailed from, they were still living creatures, and she had a strict no-killing policy – but, given that the only other option would be to let them wipe out New York, she figured she was allowed this pass. She would wrestle with her conscience later.

Her Spidey Sense had gone haywire just before the Chitauri slithered down from yet another wormhole, courtesy of Thor's brother. She had been on her way to her class when her body warned her of the impending attack, and she ran down the hallway with only a brief explanation to Ned (it was okay, he was used to her sporadic other half making things difficult), making it into a nearby alleyway where she hastily pulled her suit, before swinging to where the Avengers had set up their rendezvous point.

There had been some startled glances when she'd dropped by, right in the middle of what she assumed was a standard rousing speech by Captain America, but they were thankful for her appearance at any rate.

What surprised her the most, though, was the additional support of Iron Man. After his adamant press release a few months back that he was done with saving the world, she had pretty much resigned herself to never fighting alongside her hero, and now... here he was. Peta wondered what had prompted this drastic turn of events, then she was hit by stray debris so proposed that fighting murderous intergalactic beings trumped debating her boss' heroic return.

She couldn't deny that the assist Iron Man provided was greatly welcomed.

"Well done, Spidey," Iron Man praised robotically after she'd successfully taken down ten aliens in one fell swoop. Peta wasn't known as the Amazing Spider-Man for nothin'. "You've come a long way from destroying ferries," he continued.

Shit. She'd practically deleted that memory from her memory banks. The light-hearted jest was clear even through Iron Man's metallic voice, yet Peta still felt her cheeks heat behind her mask. Whatever. She was a child back then, okay? She'd grown up a lot – had to, what with the whole new calibre of bad guys she'd been dealing with.

(And, seriously, no one thought to send reinforcements to help out with the Green Goblin? Both Green Goblins? Thanks again, Avengers. She was totally not still bitter.)

"Heard you were retiring, old man," she fired back, for want of a better retort. "Not as spritely as the rest of us."

"Why, you little brat."

Peta's grin spread from ear to ear. She opened her mouth to quip something else when one of those weird Chitauri ships crash landed right in front of her, thereby halting any further attempts at conversation.

All in all, the battle was mostly rendered null and void once the Hulk caught sight of the Chitauri mothership. What followed was a sight Peta would rather forget, in all honesty. (She knew she would have nightmares about Chitauri intestines for weeks after.)

Peta stayed behind to help clean up the streets as best she could. She had half an hour to spare, since school hadn't finished yet. Plus, she had to factor in the time it would take to get back to her apartment before May grew suspicious, so she had a few extra minutes left.

There was a certain energy and camaraderie shared between the band of superheroes Peta'd long admired from afar – and the fact that she was now within arm's reach of all of the Avengers made her somewhat giddy, and she struggled to temper her excitement at the prospect. She hadn't been introduced to all of them; mostly, Spider-Man had only interacted (and she used that term very loosely) with Iron Man and Captain America. On the rare occasion, she had crossed paths with the Falcon, whose quick wit rivalled her own, which was always fun. But otherwise, this was her first official collaboration with the gang.

Peta was hyper-aware of her every move, uselessly willing her jittering nerves to quit it. She was suddenly thankful that her palms were clad in her suit, so the clamminess wasn't noticeable. Thank god.

Not that anyone was paying her any particular attention, engrossed as they were in their tasks. Peta got it; the Avengers were like the cliques to end all cliques. All-exclusive, no room for wanna-be spiders.

Okay. That was a bit harsh. This wasn't high school. Although, with the amount of times Captain America had featured on Midtown's PSAs, she had begun to associate the living legend with school. She could practically recite the damn things off by heart at this stage.

Peta eyed the budding romance between Vision and Scarlet Witch with faint disgust. Public displays of affection always made her feel uncomfortable – even more so now, since neither May nor Happy had such compunction about restricting their own smitten expressions firmly where Peta couldn't see them. It wasn't that she was averse to romance; she just didn't want to bear witness to it.

It was gross.

However, Peta's keen senses didn't miss the, dare she say it, frosty atmosphere between Mr. Stark and the Winter Soldier. Captain America was placed in the middle, acting as a barrier, almost. Peta wondered what the animosity was about, before she reminded herself that it was not her business.

She was startled out of her reverie by the one-hundred-year-old man in question.

"You know, you don't have to do this by yourself, kid," the Winter Soldier piped up. (Was it considered rude to refer to a war hero by his hitman persona? She should probably look into that.) He shot a sidelong at Captain America’s turned back, so brief she barely caught it. “Not when you have people in your corner.”

"He's right, Spider-Guy,” the Falcon concurred. “Keep this up and you're gonna burn yourself out. The truth will out, that sort of thing."

"Bitch, please," she said, voice cocky behind the automated modulator. "I'm Spider-Man–”

In her defence, her Spidey Sense hadn't breached the bounds of telepathy. There wasn't like some alarm that blared out screaming, yelling something along the lines of quick, spider, duck there's a piece of crumbling building about to propel you fifty feet in the air in front of the coolest band of superheroes you know.

Now, if it had, she wouldn't be having this internal debate.

"You were saying?" came Iron Man's reply, choked slightly by what she hoped were cries for her safety but were most likely cackles for her ineptitude.

Beside him, the infamous Hawkeye wasn't even bothering to be subtle about it. Lips blown wide, stretched far beyond any right skin should have; his own damn eyes were expressively delighting in the scene before. The Black Widow, legendary super-secret spy, couldn't even muster the strength to reign in her snort.

Jesus. And Peta looked up to these people.

Shrugging off whatever dignity still clung to her like a bad smell, she said, "I meant to do that."

Thor nodded, serious. "Yes, I myself am not immune to the charms of embarrassing endeavours, much to my chagrin."

Peta frowned. The Avengers were all sporting matching faces of WTF, varying in level and size. She had the feeling it was a regular occurrence around the God of Thunder.

"Okay, Chaucer," Mr. Stark said, voice coming out processed. "While I am sure we all appreciate the alliteration, we could do without the English lecture."

On the contrary: Peta could most certainly do with an English lecture. She tended to treat the subject like glorified naptime, thanks in large part to Mrs. Perkinson’s droll speeches, and her own disinterest in the topic – if she were being honest with herself, she mainly used the time to give in to the exhaustion her nightly patrolling evoked. So far, she hadn't been caught drooling into her desk.

Yet.

"Hey, Spidey," Iron Man said then, drawing her focus away from the other Avengers. "Mind if I ask you a personal question?"

Peta frowned, already on edge at the phrasing and the emphasis on personal. "Sure, but I reserve the right not to answer."

She couldn't see behind Mr. Stark's faceplate, but she felt the eye roll all the same.

"Why are you doing this?"

Peta flinched.

Seconds passed. Peta’s face burned under the combined stares of the Avengers, who were all trying so hard not to be obviously listening in that they were so painfully obvious.

Mr. Stark was as unflustered as always as he pressed on: "I gotta know, what's your MO? What gets you outta bed in the morning?"

Catching criminals is not my responsibility–

"When you can do the things that I can,” she found herself saying, “but you don't, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you."

A stunned silence succeeded her overly-simplistic explanation. Mr. Stark had the most dumbfounded expression on his face. Comically, Peta had the sense that, were the billionaire not educated by the higher order, his jaw would be firmly latched on the oaken floorboards. As it was, Mr. Stark was lost for his words, mouth twitching, trying to grab hold of a suitable comeback.

Peta took that as her cue to leave, before things got even more awkward. She made it back to the flat with three minutes to spare, and when May asked why she was all flushed and red in the face, she made some fake excuse about how hot the subway was.

~

The next morning, Spider-Man was trending on Twitter.

#spiderman saved my cat. i love u spidey, kisses xoxo

will u marry me #spiderman. ill be ur #spidergirl

The tweets brought a genuine smile on her face as people recounted the good deeds she had performed.

But her easy lightness evaporated in an instant when she caught sight of the next tweet.

#irondad protec his #spideyson

Attached, was a picture of Iron Man defending Spider-Man from the weird alien looking things, while the other Avengers all fought in the background. In the photo, Spider-Man's back was turned, and an alien had his claw thing poised to strike her from behind, but what gave her considerable pause was the inaction shot of Iron Man firing up his repulsors, aiming it at the alien.

The phone slipped from her hands, landing on her bed with a thump.

Mr. Stark had saved her life yesterday, and she never even knew.

~

Peta was surprised when she headed down to the lab a week after the whole aliens-in-New-York-again incident to find Mr. Stark tampering with what appeared to be a crude form of her web fluid.

"Is that Spider-Man's web fluid?" Peta asked once F.R.I.D.A.Y. had granted her access.

"Yeah, I was just throwing some stuff up in the air. Trying to recreate that webbing he uses. Y'know, it's actually really cool. The webbing – the tensile strength is off the charts." Peta had never Mr. Stark sound so enthusiastic; she felt warm all over at the knowledge that it was her invention that had the genius singing her praises. "I wonder who manufactures that."

Oh. So Mr. Stark doubted Spider-Man's intelligence. Believed that she hadn't come up with it on her own – in a freaking high school lab, to boot. Not gonna lie, the assumption stung. Although, the truth was a little far-fetched so it mightn't be that improbable to suspect that Spider-Man had little uber drivers delivering batches of web fluid. But. Still. Peta felt as though her off-the-charts intellect was on the line here.

"So, you're trying to recreate it?" Peta asked, eyes narrowed. Trying being the operative word, judging by the defeatist note in the man's voice.

"Yeah. I've messed around with a few equations but," Mr. Stark pinched the bridge of his nose, irritation bleeding into his tone – Peta felt something like victory seep into her body, "I can't quite to seem to match it. Whoever invented this, gotta hand it to them; they're a certifiable genius."

Unconsciously, a dark flush bloomed across her collarbone, threatening to emerge upon her neck and decorate her face in dusty pink. She fought to temper her elation at having someone as accomplished as Tony freakin' Stark praise her work. (Although, it had to be said, her formula was pretty remarkable. Were she in private, she'd give herself a chuffed pat on the back.)

Mr. Stark whipped round, suddenly realising who he was talking to.

"Yeah, no offence, kid. I know you go to a ‘genius’ school,” Mr. Stark used air quotation marks; Peta tried not to let the irritation get to her, “but even I can’t crack this. There’s no way you could.”

It took all her willpower, but she held her tongue. Well. She didn’t mention her alter-ego. No, instead, as a menacing a tone as she could emulate, what she said was: "I'm gonna put some dirt in your eye."

"Wow, kid," Mr. Stark drawled, sounding bored. "I'm shaking in my boots. Now, come and help me with the schematics. I've got a couple ideas I wanna try out."

Fine. Maybe threats weren't her strong suit. Not to worry – she could always programme an interrogation mode into this new suit.

The two worked in silent tandem for a long stretch of time afterwards. Very early on in her kind of internship, Mr. Stark had decided to forgo simply updating the Iron Spider, and decided to create a whole new suit from scratch, which was a challenge – but a welcome one. Who else could say they'd built and programmed a superhero suit with Tony Stark? How cool was her life?

Mr. Stark added just a touch of emotional intelligence into the suit, less intuitive than the Iron Spider, but enough to hopefully aid Spider-Man in tricky spots. Peta listened attentively as he lectured her on the finer points of adapting this technology, taking mental notes as she did so. Mr. Stark then asked her opinion on the suit colours and, thinking of a guy she knew, she allowed herself a small smile as she picked out the colour combinations. Red and black. Perfect.

Peta knew she'd never wear it; not in a million years. It was far out of her price range, and she felt vaguely nauseous at the thought of wearing a multi-million dollar suit, even if it was in her best interest. But like the saying went: it was the thought that counted.

After a suitable amount of time had passed, and they had quickly decided to take a quick break, Peta managed to pluck up the courage to pose the question that had been eating away at her for far longer than she cared to admit.

"Why are you doing all this, for Spider-Man?" Peta asked, as nonchalantly as possible. "You know he's just going to refuse you."

Mr. Stark sighed, world-weary and tired. "Spider-Man saved the Avengers," he said suddenly.

Peta whipped her head up, incredulity obscuring her features.

"There was a point. Two, three years ago, now, when we almost threw the towel in. We were split, divided, our loyalties were torn." Peta wondered whether that had anything to do with the tension she felt earlier between Mr. Stark and the Winter Soldier. "And then, this up-and-coming kid from Queens entered the scene. Just, doing his thing. Not for profit, or for fame. But because it was the right thing to do." Mr. Stark raised his eyes to the Spider-Man mask. "Hell, he's been showing up all of the Avengers. Fancy-pants Captain America? Overrated. The God of Thunder? Not all that." His eyes were soft and warm. "But Spider-Man? Amazing."

Peta averted her eyes. The praise was cloying, sticky and suffocating. Spider-Man was a mantle, yeah, she knew that much – but the way Mr. Stark spoke. That reverent edge lightening his words, lifting the burden from his shoulders... it frightened her.

Spider-Man didn't deserve this; whatever this was. No. Mr. Stark was simply projecting. This was just exhaustion talking.

She tried to say as much. "He's just the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man."

"Exactly."

Mr. Stark punctuated that polysyllabic word with such ferocity, with such meaning, with such raw belief in her many deeds, that she faltered. He didn't say it as though; he said it like it was the answer to end all answers. The riddle of Spider-Man, all summed up into one.

Peta distracted herself from analysing Mr. Stark’s misplaced faith in her abilities by asking him inane questions about the A.I. he was aiming to install into the suit, but his words didn’t stop ringing in her ears for a long while after.

~

Peta's next babysitting appointment coincided with May and Happy's next date. Unfortunately, that was because it was Mr. Stark's brilliant idea for both himself and Mrs. Potts, and May and Happy, to all go on a merry double date, probably in some grandiose restaurant Peta'd never heard of.

She could practically taste the cringe from here. It was just way too early to go bringing double dates into the dynamic.

Mrs. Potts and Mr. Stark greeted her, Happy and May warmly at the entrance to the penthouse. She looked so regal decked out in her finery, positively resplendent in her dark blue gown. Mrs. Potts gave her brief instructions to look after Morgan, which Peta took to heart.

“... and there’s freshly brewed coffee in the pot, if you’d like some.”

"Oh, uh. Thank you, but I don't drink coffee."

There's a pregnant pause. Then:

"I'm sorry, can you just repeat that,” Mr. Stark butted in, scandalised, “because I'm pretty sure you just said that you don't drink coffee."

Peta shrugged, eyes downcast as she played with a fray of her sleeve. Honestly, the whole not-being-able-to-drink-coffee-because-of-one-goddamn-spider was annoying, particularly as she was so accustomed to hearing exactly what she was missing out on. Not to mention constantly being basked in the incredulity of others, who are unable to compute the notion that a human being could – well, maybe not thrive – function reasonably well without that fundamental life juice.

"Yeah. Caffeine doesn't really... agree with me." To put it mildly. Best not have a repeat in Mr. Stark's penthouse in any case.

"Hm. I don't trust someone without caffeine in their blood. Keeps the strength going, y'know?"

Am I strong? Listen, bud, I've got radioactive blood, she thought, a tad hysterically. That cartoon really was going to her head.

May comically turned to face Peta with a look of complete and utter bewilderment.

"I thought you liked coffee," May said, puzzled.

"Uh, what? I've never liked coffee."

Okay, so her bullshitting skills could do with some improvement.

May raised a brow at her lacklustre effort. "Yes, you did. I used to make you some back when–” She cut herself off abruptly. Before Uncle Ben died.

And then the spider happened and changed the game completely.

"Yeah. But then, I." Crap. "Then I was allergic, remember?" Technically, that wasn't a lie. Her and Ned had done a crude blood test experiment using school resources, trying to find any evidence of her spider DNA. And lo and behold: she was highly allergic to coffee.

And then she'd accidentally ingested some. That was a mistake.

"Since when have you been allergic?"

"Since. I..." Oh, fuck. "...was allergic."

Her aunt hummed, but otherwise let the interrogation die once Mrs. Potts announced that they'd best be on their way, and to let her know if either she or Morgan ran into any problems. Peta had to refrain from releasing an audible sigh of relief after they'd departed. That was a close one.

Peta couldn't hold back her genuine smile as she looked at Morgan. "Hey, Morgs. How's my favourite five-year-old kid?"

Morgan rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I'm the only five-year-old kid you know."

"Shush. Don't spoil the illusion." Peta mussed up Morgan's hair, causing her to let out a shriek of laughter that had Peta's grin stretching wider. Man, did she love her job. "How about cocoa and a film?"

Morgan pretended to think hard about this, before nodding enthusiastically.

"Okay, then. You pick out the film, and I'll make the drinks." Peta held out a hand. "And yes, extra sprinkles for Her Majesty. I remember."

Morgan giggled, and did as she was bid, impatiently hollering for Peta to get a move on when the movie started. Within half an hour, Morgan was fast asleep.

Now, you see, sleep had a habit of sneaking up on her; the one villain her Spidey Sense could never warn her of.

The previous night's latest Spider-themed activity had involved a certain drugs deal intervention she'd spent a week preparing for, and she'd finally been able to apprehend the perpetrators.

A quick glance to her left found Morgan curled up against the corner of the couch, drooling on the multi-million-dollar furniture.

Figuring that it would be safe to close her eyes for just a moment, to just give in to a slither of temptation, she surrendered, head dropping onto her shoulders like someone’d cut her strings.

When she came to, the TV was blaring out the introductory setup menu and Morgan was nowhere to be found.

"Morgan!"

Panic gripped her heart; unflinchingly fierce. She wanted to berate herself for falling asleep, but knew that that task would be better to wait in retrospection, and she deployed all her senses into locating Morgan Stark.

She breathed an audible sigh of relief when she spotted the open balcony door. Morgan must have bypassed F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s automatic defences in order to go outside, a fact which largely impressed Peta.

"Next time you have a foolish idea, wake me up first," she said as she entered the balcony, softening her voice so as not to frighten Morgan. "I was really worried."

"But I didn't want to wake you. You looked really peaceful."

"Doesn't matter." She sighed. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep. That was not good babysitter etiquette. What are you doing out here, anyway?"

"Stars."

She sat besides Morgan, and lifted up her arm, inviting Morgan to snuggle up against her, which the girl did with a warm sigh. They both lay there, basking in the cool night air of the city below, and the twinkling stars unhindered by city pollution.

"Do you – do you think that Spider-Man turns into a spider at night?" Morgan asked, the picture of innocent naivety.

"A – a spider?" she repeated, momentarily stunned by the bizarre conversation starter.

Morgan nodded vigorously, dark strands probably whipping her in the process. "Uh huh. Or – or do you think that Spider-Man can, can lay eggs?"

Vaguely, Peta recalled Ned asking her something similar back in the early heyday of her spider-related adventures. God, it felt like a lifetime ago.

"Wow. Gee. Um. I dunno about that, Morgs. I mean he is still a man, right? And men can't lay eggs."

Morgan crinkled her nose. "Spider-Man's not a man," she replied with such incredulity Peta was amazed. "He's a kid. Like me."

Oh, hell to the no.

"What are you talking about? Spider-Man is, like, obviously a man. Clue's in the name." Because even being a man was preferable to being called a kid.

"Not true. Daddy tells me all the time about what the Spider-Baby has done."

Oh. Has he?

Gritting her teeth, Peta questioned, "Spider-Baby?"

God, she was going to make Mr. Stark rue the day he'd ever made assumptions on Spider-Man's youth. (She, most vehemently, was not a kid!) For God’s sake, she’d once taken down his invisible plane and caught the ‘flying vulture guy’ red-handed. Now, could a baby do that?

Even as her pride screamed in indignant outrage, Peta attempted to steer the conversation away from the subject matter of her spider-guise.

Peta nudged Morgan gently. “You telling me you came out here to look at stars, and think about Spider-Man?”

The little girl nodded too fast for it to be sincere.

Peta waited for a moment but, when it became apparent that Morgan wouldn’t divulge her intentions without being prompted, she tried to get to the crux of the matter manually.

“Anything you wanna tell me, Morgs?” Peta asked in as soft a tone as she’d ever used. She was well aware that she wasn’t the girl’s mother, or indeed any blood relation to her – all she was to Morgan was the part-time babysitter, and her father’s kind-of intern. Morgan didn’t owe her anything. But all Peta wanted was to make it right, whatever it was that was troubling her in the middle of the night. “I mean it. You can tell me anything; anything at all. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

“But you don’t–”

“I don’t what?”

Morgan blew out air forcefully. “You don’t care. Not really. ‘m just a stupid kid to you.”

Woah. Peta had no idea where this was coming from, but it sure as hell wasn’t true.

“Hey, Morgan. Look at me.” Peta waited patiently for Morgan to turn to her, and to her horror there were tears glistening in her brown eyes. “I care about you. I care about you so much.”

She wasn’t sure what she’d said wrong, however, Morgan’s face suddenly twisted, pushing away from her. “No, you don’t,” she reiterated stubbornly. “You only hang out with me for money. Mommy and Daddy pay you to be nice to me."

Morgan was a genius – a literal, bona fide genius, possessing an IQ many grown adults could only dream of having. She could put two and two together.

She couldn't disagree with Morgan. The girl was too smart for that. But she could open up to her, show her that their relationship wasn't one-sided.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Peta asked, staring at the cosmos spread out before her. She felt Morgan nod against her arm. "When I was fourteen, I was bitten by a radioactive spider," Peta said, fingers absentmindedly tracing the scar still present to this day. "I've never told anybody that before."

She knew Morgan wouldn't understand the magnitude of what Peta had just bestowed upon her, but that was okay. It was as close to a reveal as Peta'd ever gone – at least, willingly gone.

To her pleasure, Morgan replied with more light sincerity, woes temporarily subsided, suggesting that even if she didn't understand the subtext, she got that it was something significant. "That's awesome."

Peta laughed, and pulled Morgan tighter against her, luxuriating in the hue of the stars.

Chapter Text

On the week her life blew up, Peta would honestly say that she'd never been happier. The ever-present aching guilt that sat with her subsided just that fraction more, the hurt less visceral for those few, precious days. Spider-Man was a roaring success... well, okay. Kinda. The idiots over at the Daily Bugle were unconvinced, throwing about the ritualistic 'masked menace' horror stories to the few who read them. All the little upgrades, and her new and improved filtration system were doing wonders for her patrolling. She'd started taking tallies of how many bad guys she apprehended in a single night's work – so far, her tally ended at twenty-four, but Ned said that didn't count because six of those were angry cats who'd decided to try their hand at nabbing Spider-Man. 

(Don't worry, she made it out... eventually.)

Most of her superhero-related injuries were collected around her middle – aiming for her heart, near her chest and around her stomach – which she kept hidden behind punny science tops that never failed to make Mr. Stark chuckle whenever he glimpsed them. Her mask protected her face well enough but occasionally she had to explain away a bruise or two that slipped between the lines. Peta wasn't sure whether they bought her lies but so far she seemed to be doing okay.

Making the new and improved Spider suit with Mr. Stark was literally the coolest thing she'd ever done – and this was coming from Spider-Man. Seriously. Working with Mr. Stark set an unparalleled precedent on her amazing-meter. 

The suit really was amazing; it was just a shame she would never wear it. 

Upon reaching completion, although Peta suspected Mr. Stark still tinkered with the super cool gadgets, he announced he would not shove this suit down Spider-Man's throat, and instead await a time when the web-head would (and Peta was paraphrasing here) 'finally see sense and accept some goddamn charity'. The gesture was sweet, though. He installed the suit in all his main labs, and even in a couple of his private planes, just in case Spider-Man was ever in a pinch and desperately needed a Stark upgrade in the middle of boss battle. 

Peta would never forget the look in Mr. Stark's eyes when she nonchalantly 'guestimated' the formula for her web fluid. Well, she didn't outright blurt it – she wasn't insane. But she did casually make a point to correct Mr. Stark's calculations, in as off-hand a manner as she could muster, and then recommended Mr. Stark expand on his own theories, citing an equation from Biology class she used as a footnote to manufacturing it herself.

There was a brief pause after her suggestion, and Peta had felt her heart stop when Mr. Stark appraised her with that cool scientific look, as though she were the Enigma machine. 

It took Mr. Stark a couple of unsuccessful attempts before he finally cracked the secret to her formula, and the look of pure, scientific ecstasy that overtook his face when his model was rendered successful was infectious, and she revelled in his enthusiasm. She felt strangely privileged to get to see Mr. Stark like this, she mused, all happy and carefree – stripped free of the burdens of Iron Man, and Stark Industries. To be free, in his natural element.

Happy was pretty fun to talk to, as well. He grudgingly opened up, not a lot, just a little bit. Peta appreciated it more than she felt she should, afraid she was betraying Uncle Ben's memory by entertaining May's boyfriend. 

It was hilarious watching Happy sleuthing like Sherlock Holmes, muttering clues under his breath like he was Poirot, when in reality he was anyone but. 

Sometimes, Peta caught Happy narrowing his eyes at random passer-by’s, mentally calculating the probability that any one of them run around fighting crime in their spare time. Then, just as quickly, she watched him visibly dismiss each possibility and then turn to who actually runs around fighting crime in their spare time and ask mundane questions about school and midterms.

Surprisingly, even consumed by the everyday craziness of her life, Peta made time for hanging out with her aunt, like they'd always used to back before... anyway. May managed to wrangle some free time from her nursing job, and for the first time in months, it was just Peta and May again. 

Peta loved it. 

They did all the things they used to, back when they were a trio, the three amigos. May tried (and failed) to bake a cake, resulting in quite the unfortunate food fight. Peta was unashamed to admit she lost, but only because Aunt May was fearless when armed with rogue ketchup bottles, and the odd cracked egg yoke. 

All in all, it was a good day. The kind of day that reminded her that she was Peta Parker, first and foremost, and not Spider-Man. 

(Okay, yes. Peta'll readily admit that she did squeeze in extra patrolling hours the next day; the guilt was eating her alive.)

The following day, Mrs. Potts invited her and May to the Tower. It was weirdly pleasant how she was slowly integrating into the high life of society – and not just that, Colonel Rhodes would be there. She was actually getting the opportunity to meet an Avenger as Peta Parker. Not Spider-Man.

Plus, War Machine was a legend.

Mr. Stark wasn’t there on arrival. Mrs. Potts explained in a fondly exasperated tone that Mr. Stark had decided to lock himself in the lab, engrossed in a project. Peta didn’t miss the concerned look thrown between Mrs. Potts and Colonel Rhodes, and she carefully filed it away. And then Happy arrived and Peta was pointedly ignoring the way the two engaged in awful flirting.

Colonel Rhodes couldn’t hide his smile when, over lunch, Happy shared a lacklustre anecdote of his days as a glorified sentry, and May answered with far too much enthusiasm. Colonel Rhodes caught Peta’s faintly disgusted expression, and offered her a familiar look.

Peta wrapped her jumper around more securely as the chill tore through her, spidery genetics only exacerbating her shivers. Thermoregulation was an absolute bitch sometimes.

"Just think, man," said Colonel Rhodes, desperate to change the topic. "You could have met Spider-Man on the street and never even knew."

Peta almost preferred the sickening display of affection.

Happy paused. Peta had to hold in her grin as she looked up at the awe that lit up his eyes.

"May, you're from Queens, right?"

"Yeah. Ben and I bought our apartment, back when Peta was a baby." May decided it would be a good idea to squeeze Peta's cheeks as she did so, much to everyone else's amusement.

"What are your thoughts on your local superhero?"

Everyone turned to May, then, with Peta listening with hesitant rapture, and just a small degree of uncertainty. Try as she might, she never could dispel that sliver of doubt that May just might know who was behind that spidery façade.

May shrugged, as nonchalant as you like. "I just wonder, if Spider-Man had this power all his life, why he didn't start earlier.”

Like the night my husband was murdered. The implication was thick in the air.

Peta choked.

Suddenly, she needed to get out of there.

"Do you want me to go and find Mr. Stark?" Peta asked, probably a tad too fast, to Mrs. Potts, who was busy trying to placate an irritable Morgan.

Mrs. Potts blinked. Peta could see the variables playing out in her mind as she silently awaited the confirmation, which she awarded her with a tired smile and a "please".

Ignoring Colonel Rhodes' confused frown, Peta nodded and set about locating Mr. Stark.

Peta was accustomed to Mr. Stark's behaviour; working side by side in the lab for hours on end tended to bring out undesirable characteristics. That being said, Mr. Stark seemed to always make a point to not take out his frustrations on her, and made a conscious effort to teach her with calm authority, never snapping at her when she made a mistake. Maybe it was a sign of how pathetic she'd become, but part of her liked to think that Mr. Stark had grown... fond of her? At the very least, he didn't detest her company, which she was very much in favour of.

"Mr. Stark?" Peta tentatively called into the intercom of his private lab. "It's Peta. Parker." 

From inside the lab, there was a clatter of heavy machinery hitting the floor that had Peta wincing, before F.R.I.D.A.Y. granted her access and she cautiously stepped in.

"Sorry, kid,” Mr. Stark said, slurred around the edges. Peta didn’t need superpowers to tell he’d been drinking. “’m not being a very good host.”

“Don’t worry, sir,” she said. “Mrs. Potts more than makes up for it.”

Mr. Stark laughed. “That she does.” His brows slanted, curiously eyeing her. “What are you doing here, kid?”

She forced a smile. “I can’t keep watching May and Happy flirt. It’s putting me off. I wondered if I could come up and work with you?”

Mr. Stark pointed to the Widow Bites (seriously the coolest thing she’d ever worked on) and she immediately settled down at the workstation she’d dubbed her own.

It was too quiet. Far, far too quiet. Peta never did well in quiet situations, which was why Spider-Man was such an annoying chatterbox. Talking kept her thoughts at bay.

And she figured, going by the man’s shaky stance, Mr. Stark needed something to keep his mind occupied too.

"Do you believe in destiny?" Literally, the second after her sleep-deprived mind had processed the last syllable, Peta wanted to kick herself. Of all the stupid, childish questions she could've asked. As if Mr. Stark was going to humour her ridiculous attempt at inciting adult conversation–

Mr. Stark heaved a sigh. "That's a big question."

Peta nodded, eyes trained on the work in front of her, making sure to let Mr. Stark know with body language that she wasn't expecting any reply from him. 

"I suppose, in some regards, I have to believe it."

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Mr. Stark was... actually conversing with her. Peta Parker – not Spider-Man. As if she were capable of producing intelligent conversation; as though she were someone worth talking to.

Peta tried to play it cool and simply hummed. Afraid to do anything that might shatter this tentative kinship. 

She took a peek at Mr. Stark and found that he hadn't looked away from his work either. If they didn't outwardly acknowledge it then they could pretend that it wasn't happening, Peta guessed. Mr. Stark was a notoriously difficult man who seldom divulged anything of value, that much was evident by his refusal to allow the media any mention of his daughter.

Mr. Stark must trust me, she thought somewhat giddily. 

"I mean, there’s the whole Iron Man thing. I should have died in that cave, and I didn’t. I fought my way out, became a superhero, then an Avenger. Saved the world a bunch of times.” He followed up his last statement with a smirk that didn’t meet his eyes. Peta didn’t say anything, only watched as it melted away like snow on a hot summer’s day. “And there has to be a reason for that.”

But...? she wanted to ask, but was too shy to.

Mr. Stark answered her silence anyway.

“I refuse to believe that there was a reason why my parents had to die.”

Oh. Right. Shit.

Peta was at a loss for words.

"It would've been my Mom's birthday today," Mr. Stark muttered after a tense silence.

“The car crash...” she said to herself, before realising she’d actually said it out loud. “I am so sorry, Mr. Stark.” Peta didn’t know what to say to that. This was all out of her comfort zone. No one ever came to Peta Parker for consolation; that was a job for Spider-Man. She was in over her depth. 

Mr. Stark chuckled darkly, as though something she had said was amusing. "There was no car crash," he muttered bitterly. "My parents were assassinated by B – by HYDRA."

Peta gaped. 

Her mind wandered into the revelation of her own parents, only know acknowledging a truth that, at the time, she had closed her eyes to, because the terrible reality had been too much to bear. 

Mary and Richard Parker had been faceless fixtures, hazy and discoloured in her early memory. Blurry around the edges. But that didn't mean they weren't still her parents.

"So were mine."

Mr. Stark frowned, paused and turned to face her fully, giving her his undivided attention. 

Peta gave a sardonic smile in response. "Not that I knew that at the time. They were SHIELD agents, spying on some HYDRA base. Only... they were found out, so HYDRA hijacked their plane and it crashed and they died." Maybe that was a bit too blunt. "I didn't even know they worked for SHIELD until Ms. Romanoff leaked all the files." Peta had been twelve and had come home from school, confused as to why May was crying and Ben was silent. 

They never told her. Peta had done the digging all on her own. Maybe that was why she kept it all bottled up inside her, never letting it see the light of day.

She was drawn back to the present by Mr. Stark's faint wince. "'M sorry, kid," he said, "That can't have been an easy way to find out."

Peta wanted to shrug it off, to wave away this feeling of loss that she had never allowed herself to feel. This was dangerous territory, opening up like this – she was letting herself become emotionally vulnerable and that was practically unchartered territory for her.

But then... maybe it was beneficial to finally air this out, hang it out to dry with someone who understood. And she wasn't just talking about herself. Mr. Stark had had twenty-one years with his parents before they were cruelly snatched away at the drop of a hat; Peta'd only had six years with hers and she barely remembered their faces.

"I barely remember them. You'd think that'd make it easier... but somehow it doesn't."

Mr. Stark nodded and didn't say anything. She preferred that.

"Sometimes a lie is preferable to the truth," she whispered like a confession. "I wonder if... I dunno, I wonder if they would like me. If they'd be proud of who I am." Wondered what they would think of Spider-Man.

Briefly, she entertained the ludicrous notion that in some messed up way, her parents were proud of her, for carrying a double life of her own, except Spider-Man made it a rule never to take lives. Still. Seemed like espionage ran in those Parker genes, unchanged by spider genetics.

"May doesn't know I know," Peta added. "I think she wants to keep my innocence intact." Because learning that the parents she barely remembered were secret spies and were killed on a mission was counter-conducive to the keeping of said childish innocence and naivety. If Peta weren't hiding a secret of her own, she might have been angry at May for ignoring the subject over the years. "Ignorance is bliss, and all that." 

Mr. Stark sighed, and rubbed at his eyes. “Everybody lives, and everybody dies. No matter what I do... I’m never good enough.” Peta was sure it was the alcohol that loosened his tongue, but she liked to think that Mr. Stark was feeling the same way she did – the burning desire to just unburden all his problems in the safe space of the lab.

"It's why I'm doing my hardest to protect Morgan and Pepper,” he continued. “Because I can't lose them too; I can't go through it again."

Peta got that.

Suddenly Mr. Stark kicked back his chair and rose on unsteady legs. "Except I've proven to be incapable of even that."

If there was one thing she’d learnt about being Spider-Man: “You can’t... do everything all by yourself. It’s too hard.” She exhaled slowly. “Things happen, and you blame yourself. You go crazy trying to make sure it never happens again, but the truth of the matter is that, you have no control over it. All you can control is the here and now.”

Mr. Stark was staring at her like he’d never seen her before.

“Damn, Pete,” he said shakily. “When did you become so smart?”

Peta nervously chuckled, pink dusting her cheeks.

“I watch a lot,” she said evasively. Mr. Stark hummed in response, the air around them lighter.

“I think I’d better head back now, sir,” said Peta, rising from her stool. “Before May starts freaking out.” Then, she hesitated, before adding quietly, “You should join too. It’s so awkward watching May and Happy make disgusting faces at one another all the time, and there’s something to be said for safety in numbers.”

Peta cut off her rambling abruptly, waiting on bated breath for Mr. Stark’s response.

Mr. Stark blinked slowly, an expression she’d registered on a tiny Morgan far more times than she could count.

Then, a smile lit up his aged features. “Well, I’ve never been one to resist making fun of Happy’s dating style. C’mon, kid.”

Peta smiled wildly herself, and followed Mr. Stark as they set about re-joining society.

~

That week, school was hell, as per usual.

Midterms were coming up, and Peta was resolutely procrastinating to the max. Well, to be fair to herself, it was for good reason. Spider-Man's heroics didn't stop for no school. Factor in being Mr. Stark's kind of only official intern, and the occasional babysitting gig, and she was stretched pretty thin. 

Her pathetically hopeless crush was still going strong. Peta physically could not tear her eyes away from MJ, and it was getting to the stage where Ned was covering her eyes to get her to retain even a modicum of self-control. It reminded her of two years ago, back when both she and Ned would simply gaze forlornly at Liz from across the room. 

Liz had nothing on MJ though, and you could quote her on that. 

Ned elbowed her firmly out of one such instance. MJ hadn't noticed her wistful looks yet, too engrossed in her book, for which Peta was thankful. The last thing she wanted to come across as was some sex-crazed stalker.

"Parker!"

Fuck. Sometimes she wished her Spidey Sense had an alarm that not only warned her of impending lethal attacks, but also politely informed her of approaching dickheads who hated her guts and who she would generally rather pulverise but can't for legal reasons. 

For that reason, she said anything as the fast-moving footsteps edged closer and closer, only gritted her teeth and waited for the axe to swing. 

Sure enough, Flash and his smirking, dithering ensemble crowded around the customary table she, Ned and MJ frequented.

“Oi, Penis,” Flash loudly proclaimed, despite being not a foot away. Peta’s enhanced senses screamed in protest. “Heard you’ve been telling everyone lies about being Iron Man’s intern.” He mock sighed, grinning as his friends cackled. “So sad. Pretending Tony Stark’s a replacement Daddy. Tell me: how many Daddys have you gone through, Penis? Why do you think they always leave you?”

Flash leaned down, breath hot against her cheek. He smelt strongly of garlic. “Is it because they’d rather be dead than stay with you?”

A fierce blush engulfed her cheeks, smothering even her ears in vibrant, Iron Man red. Rage and humiliation were equal driving forces, and she inhaled sharply through her nose.

"Lay off, Flash,” Ned said in her stead.

“Oi, oi, Parker! Looks like the Chubby Hubby’s to the rescue!”

Ned laid a hand on her shoulder, a silent warning not to retaliate.

"Eugene, this is a place for learning," MJ drawled from her place reading her book. "Go take a shower in Daddy's bills and quit bugging us."

"Shut up, you whore. I was talking to your good friend, Ms. Penis, over there. You might have heard of her. Were you not such a bookish prude, that is."

Snickers filled the canteen. They were stifling to Peta, who he could hear them as though they were shouting down her ear. Indignation welled up within, aflame in her veins. It was one thing to bully Peta Parker, but messing with the most fantastic people Peta'd ever known?

That was crossing the line.

She swallowed her fury in favour of watching how MJ handled herself. The last thing Peta wanted to do was get involved and accidentally make it worse for her. She kept her fists clenched tight underneath the table, though, ready to swing if provoked.

MJ frowned, fingertips tapping at her chin in a display of mock confusion. But Peta could see the undercurrent of cold fury that rippled through her cool composure. 

"How can I be both prudish and a whore?" Her question was directed to no one in particular, yet her dark eyes never left Flash's face. Her carefully expressive orbs were flat and discordant as she levelled her trademark stare at him. "That's an oxymoronic collocation if ever I heard one."

The bully, of course, appeared to suffer from a rather severe case of selective hearing. 

"I'm not moronic," he spluttered in an indignant haze, aware of his rapidly diminishing control over the conversation. "You're moronic."

MJ raised a pointed brow. Peta tried not to stare too heavily at the awesome display of complete and utter ownage and instead focussed on picking her jaw off the ground. 

Ned didn't have quite the same chill.

"Cool," he sung in a daze.

MJ shot him an indiscreet wink, before turning back to Flash and his pathetic entourage. By this point, many of them had vacated the area, recognising a losing battle when they saw one.

"Get lost," was the final nail in the coffin. 

Flash clenched his fists but, seeing no other choice, stormed off in a childish huff. His parting words included a threat everyone knew he didn't have the balls to carry out.

MJ, of course, handled the increasing attention with her customary badassery: she pointedly turned a page in her book, giving off the air of extreme boredom. 

Peta couldn't avert her eyes. MJ was perfect. Too perfect for her.

Maybe one day... her life could work out the way she wanted it to. She was owed that, surely.

But if all she could do was stare from afar... that was alright by her.

~

But Peta was a loyal subscriber to Parker Luck™ and so things rarely (read: never) went her way.

~

On the day her life blew up, she was babysitting the most amazing kid on the planet, while Mr. Stark and Mrs. Potts were away on a business conference.

Peta and Morgan were both reclined on the exceedingly resplendent sofa inside the penthouse of Stark Tower – but the wrong way around, so that their heads dangled off the edge. Well, Pete's head dangled off the edge, Morgan's was more cushioned into the corner as though even the inanimate object was pillowing her from the world. 

Morgan was lost in thought. Peta could practically hear the cogs whirring in that big genius brain of hers. 

"D'you have any homework?" she asked out of the blue, an impish smirk already morphing her expression

Peta snorted. "Oh, no you don't." She whirled her legs to the side and repositioned her body to align with gravity once more, prompting Morgan to do the same. "I am never, ever, ever letting you near my school work ever again."

"But whyyyy?"

"Because," Peta replied, bopping her on the nose, to the tune of delightful giggles. "You're a little brat who is too smart for me. Now, and you can’t tell your Mommy and Daddy, but how many juice pops do you want?”

Morgan made a show of debating the offer for a second, face scrunched so adorably that Peta fought to keep her lip twitch under control, before vigorously jumping and shouting, “Twenty-one!”

“I think they’ll definitely notice if you have twenty-one.” Then again, she mused, they were billionaires. “Let’s start with one for now.”

Peta got up then, ruffling Morgan’s hair when the girl pouted, and made her way halfway to the ginormous kitchen – and then her Spidey Sense screamed.

The hairs on her arm stood on end; her every nerve crying out in rapturous alarm, warning her of an imminent danger only she could feel. 

Her eyes snapped up to Morgan, where she sat. Ignoring the juice pop,  Peta all but ran to her side, bundling her up in her arms, Morgan's noise of protest quickly swallowed by the pounding of both of their hearts in Peta's ears. Peta forcefully enveloped Morgan in a bruising hug – she briefly spared a thought for controlling her superhuman strength – before dropping to the ground, making them both as small as possible, cascading Morgan in her human shield.

And then the building exploded.

It took several seconds for the world to reconfigure in her bruised and battered mind. When Peta came to, her lungs were full with smoke and there was a sharp ringing overruling her senses. 

Morgan's tearful cries, pleas for Peta to wake up now, please, came bursting into reality – along with the pain. 

She'd had trouble with sensory overloads but never on this scale. 

Peta hissed as she moved, the slightest motion jolting her leg and causing a searing pain to burn every one of her nerve endings. Rising claustrophobia threatened to engulf her but she swallowed down the urge to scream. This wasn't the Vulture – this wasn't a building. This was just a piece of hardwire and she could move it; had to, because she had to protect Morgan, at all costs.

With all her might, she pushed aside the metallic structure which trapped her, unable to refrain from grunting when it revealed a large, jagged cut in her left thigh.

Shit, she thought but didn’t say.

“Morgan,” she slurred instead, and was barely given time to respond before the girl threw herself into her arms. All Peta could do was hold onto her quivering, trembling body, and wait for her breaths to come easier. “Wha’ happened?”

Morgan sniffed against the curve of her neck. “The whole room shook and then the building exploded. I thought you were dead.”

Unthinking, Peta tightened her arms. “Nah,” she said with a cheer she didn’t feel. “Can’t get rid of me, Morg.”

All too soon, however, the reality of their situation became abundantly clear.

They had to get out.

"C'mon, kid," she said, gently pushing Morgan away and rising unsteadily on shaky legs. "We're gettin' outta here."

Her eyes searched for the one item in her possession she knew she would be forever thankful she took.

Her backpack.

"Would you believe I wasn't going to go out patrolling tonight?" Peta rambled. Normally after her babysitting, she would sink straight into bed, thoroughly worn out by Morgan's lovable antics. But today she'd been almost compelled to bring it, like some twist of fate had seized upon her. "And thank god my mask filter was working because otherwise we'd be screwed. Well, I say we, I mainly mean you, because I can heal and you can't."

Peta could tell her words weren't coming across coherently to the obviously frightened girl. Shit. Even after all these years of being Spider-Man, Peta still had the habit of talking in babbling riddles.

Also: she was stalling the inevitability.

But time was running out.

"But your leg," Morgan pointed out tearfully. “It’s bleeding."

In lieu of a verbal response, she unzipped her rucksack, located her web shooters and attached them to her wrists. Time was of the essence. 

"Don't need my leg," Peta grunted. "We'll be swinging."

"Swinging? But–”

Peta could pinpoint the exact second Morgan clocked her identity. In hindsight, holding her mask out in front of her was a dead giveaway. 

"Are you Spider-Man?" Morgan asked in a small voice.

Peta’s voice cracked as she admitted a broken: “Yeah.” She paused. "You trust me, right?"

There was no hesitation in Morgan's affirmation, and underneath the adrenalin and pain, Peta felt her heart swell at the show of unwavering trust. 

Peta took her upgraded Spider mask, complete with the filter, and quickly placed it over Morgan's head. She carefully put her Spider backpack on Morgan before hoisting her up on to her back, webbing her hands and feet so she didn't accidentally fall off. 

"Don't look," she told Morgan, before shooting a web and swinging her way out. 

Everything was chaos. Smoke and fire swam in her vision, making her lightheaded, but she pushed on through as best she could. Everything was in ruins, elevators malfunctioning, and cameras melting from the excess heat.

All too soon, Peta had to stop. She didn’t know where she was going. Thick, dark clouds of smog crushed her, and she couldn’t fucking move.

"You take the mask," Morgan pleaded. "Please. You need it more than I do."

"No." Peta meant for it to come out resolute, strong, but the effect was significantly lessened by the strangled choking noise she made, as her body made it known that the carbon dioxide she was inhaling was suffocating. 

"But you can't see." Morgan made a choking sound of her own, wet with tears. "You can't breathe."

The scary part was: she wasn't wrong. The smoke was stinging her eyes, causing tears of her own to obscure her already hazy vision. Peta had no idea how she was going to get them out of this building before the whole thing went kaput. 

But she couldn't let the kid know that. She was Spider-Man. Morgan's ultimate superhero. Peta had a reputation to maintain, and she would fight tooth and nail to uphold it. 

Tears were streaming down Peta's face and her lungs burned with every inhale: chemical smoke. Had to be. The Tower had ten floors of R&D; ten floors of dangerous equipment that boom! had just been exposed to rich oxygen. 

Peta bent forward, arm reaching to the wall at the side to keep her standing, accidentally bending the reinforced steel as she lost control of her super strength. Morgan's cries were thunderous in her ear and Peta used that to ground her.

"Don't worry, Morg. I've got it." 

She closed her eyes. She inhaled. Slow. One, two, three.

She exhaled.

Just breathe. Close your eyes and breathe.

And then she ran like the fire was at her heels. (Which, coincidentally, it was.)

It was a leap of faith.

And it paid off.

Peta let out an exhilarated whoop once she saw the white light of day, and grinned when she heard Morgan echo it back. Just before they reached the exit, she dropped down to the floor and ripped off the webs binding Morgan.

Placing Morgan down on the ground, she peeled the backpack and withdrew the rest of her Spider suit from her it, along with a specially designed web fluid container. 

"Right," Peta said. "Morgan, I need you to do something for me. It's a very important job, and I’m counting on you.” Peta tried for a smile. “You’re Spider-Man’s partner-in-crime.”

Morgan nodded shakily. 

Peta held out a vial of web fluid she kept for special situation. In all honesty, when she and Ned had developed this roughly a year ago, after she'd dealt with Harry Osborn, she never imagined she would ever be in a scenario that required this. When she invented this, she always expected that it would be Ned, or MJ, or May who would benefit from this – not Morgan Stark. The whole point of Spider-Man was to not get personal, lest her identity was leaked, but Morgan already knew who she was. And, for some inexplicable reason, Peta knew that Morgan would take her secret to the grave if need be (not that Peta would ever let Morgan head to the grave).

"This is very important," she said, and watched as Morgan listened with such attentive seriousness. "This is one of my special web fluids. See this here?" She pointed to the underside, where a small button resided. "It's a panic button, hardwired into my suit. It lets me know if you've pressed it, and where you are." Peta gripped Morgan's hands in her own, ignoring the burning building behind her, and palmed the web fluid into Morgan's hand. "It's for emergencies. If you're in trouble, you press it immediately. Got it?"

This time, Morgan didn't nod, but Peta read the determined gleam hidden within those big dark eyes and, satisfied, she dropped Morgan's hands. 

Finally, Peta put on her mask, hoisted Morgan up on to her shoulders, and led her into the open air. 

There was a huge crowd awaiting them. Spotting one of the bodyguards Happy worked with, she entrusted Morgan's care to him under the guise of Spider-Man, before rushing back into Stark Tower just as quickly. She ignored Morgan's surprised shout, and the shocked gasps of many an audience member. 

Peta didn't have the luxury of simply standing back and watching the flames lick higher and higher. Couldn't afford to wait for her breath to come easier. There were people trapped in there; she could hear faint heartbeats within the collapsing structures. So long as there were civilians in danger, it was her duty to stay. 

Also, not to brag, but she kinda did this for a living.

"Hey, look! It's the Amazing Spider-Man!" 

Everyone cheered.

Her Spider suit worked an absolute treat in these godawful conditions. She managed to free several employees, caught a rapidly descending elevator (yes, she did get Washington Monument vibes) full of important businessmen, and also rescued a stray kitten that had somehow wandered into the fire.

She ducked into an empty corner once she’d saved absolutely everybody she could, and quickly disengaged her Spider suit, shoving it unceremoniously back into her backpack, before strolling out into the open air. She passed several firemen and emergency responders, who ushered her into the general direction of where a large group of bystanders was collecting.

Mr. Stark and Mrs. Potts were standing over at the side, chatting to some official looking people. Morgan was safely ensconced in her mother’s arms, and Peta let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding at that. When the girl saw her, she tugged on Mrs. Potts’ arm and pointed to where Peta was approaching.

She couldn’t hear the words exchanged between the trio, not with the litany of panic playing in the background, but she knew it wasn’t good. Mr. Stark gently kissed the crown of Morgan’s head, before moving over to where Peta was, strides long and powerful.

He looked awful: hair windswept and messy, suit wrinkled, highlighting the haste with which he arrived, eyes wild with fury.

A horrible pit formed in her stomach. Her Spidey Sense was still thrumming down her spine.

"Peta," Mr. Stark hissed, unbothered by the cesspools of people watching the scene unfold like hungry vultures itching for a fight. "Mind telling me where the hell you were, and why my daughter, who I explicitly trusted you with her care, had to be rescued by Spider-Man?"

Peta’s jaw dropped. No sound came out. All she could do was watch as, like a slow-moving bullet, her life was dismantled layer by layer.

"I trusted you,” Mr. Stark reiterated. “And you just, what? Run at the first sign of trouble?”

With sickening clarity, Peta understood what was happening here. It was funny, she'd just always assumed Mr. Stark would figure it out – the man was a genius, after all. She'd never accounted for a future wherein her dual identities clashed rather than went together.

Peta couldn't breathe. Couldn't breath and– woah, was the space spinning? She felt like she would’ve noticed if the space was spinning.

Okay. Truth time. Time to rip off the metaphorical Band-Aid and bring out the I Am Spider-Man card.

"If– If we could just, uh, talk alone–”

"What, you worried about a few journalists down there? More worried about them than you were with looking after my daughter?"

Fuck. Fuck fuckity fuckballs. There was no way Peta could tell the truth now, not with the semi-public background, complete with a growing crowd very interested in Tony Stark's anger. Even if she whispered it to him quietly, Mr. Stark's complete 180 would no doubt cause a few eyebrow raises, which would lead to awkward questions and suspicious newspapers and – yeah no. Bad idea. Terrible.

In any case, could Mr. Stark be trusted with her secret identity? 

(Of course, he could. He was Iron Man, the hero before the hero. But if Peta revealed her secret to him then that would be another person who knew, another person whose life could potentially be in danger if the wrong people found out–)

Perhaps Mr. Stark might have pieced together this puzzle in time. Peta wouldn't let that happen.

Like the old saying went: you can’t put a price on safety.

So Peta dropped her head in the face of Mr. Stark's rage, and said nothing. 

In the choice between Peta Parker and Spider-Man – there was no comparison.

"I mean, you have this whole shtick of wanting to help protect people, and now you're telling me that, what? It was all just a ruse?"

The utter bewilderment, mingled with the darkened rage Peta knew was boiling within the man, in Mr. Stark’s voice made her feel even worse. She was starting to believe she'd actually gone and just left Morgan Stark to be rescued by Spider-Man. 

"Yeah," she croaked. Peta hadn't the strength to lift her head up, to witness the transition from simmering fury to white-hot anger. 

She felt it, though, in the air. Her every Spidey Sense was alert, and she had to force herself to remain neutral, to not slip into her customary defence stance. Peta Parker was a weak coward. The room felt stifling, the oxygen dispersing until she was suffocating under the crushing weight of her lies, spearheaded by Mr. Stark's intense, unrelenting stare, boring holes into Peta's crown.

Mr. Stark took a step forward. Peta suppressed her flinch. "No, you're lying. Why? What are you hiding, kid?"

Peta remained a mute. 

Consistency: A Novel by Peta Parker.

Mr. Stark sighed. Overhead, thunder ominously crackled. Peta was sure it wasn't a coincidence. 

"Fine,” he said coldly. Peta visibly cringed. “Have it your way. If you ever come near Stark Industries again, I will personally throw your ass back out onto the street. Capiche?"

See, there was a moment, so quick it was virtually indecipherable, where she could take it back. Where she could reveal herself to Mr. Stark, out Spider-Man’s true identity and await the monumental fallout. It would be so easy, she mused; so, so easy to just speak up, even in fragile defence.

But Peta didn’t. She didn’t say anything.

I have no choice, she repeated like a mantra. Peta Parker had to be crucified for the sake of Spider-Man. Uncle Ben was owed that much. 

Catching criminals is not my responsibility–

It sucked – and, boy, did it suck some major balls – but such was life. And, honestly, she'd overcome worse in her tenure as an undercover superhero. This should be right up her street.

Spider-Man won the battle – and Peta Parker lost the war.

Chapter Text

Truly, her lie could not have gone better.

You could even go so far as to say it was a blessing in disguise. At least now no one would suspect Peta Parker for Spider-Man. She didn't have to worry so much now; didn't have to take so many precautionary methods – that didn't stop her. And this way, neither Mr. Stark nor the Avengers could ever deduce her secret identity, what with the man hating her guts and the rest of the team following suit. Really, that'd been the source of many of her fears and Peta knew that, had she stayed, it wouldn't have taken long for them to put two and two together. Instead, they had taken two and two together and come up with 372648.57 – hey, maths was hard.

And yeah, a small, selfish part of Peta wanted to paint Mr. Stark the bad guy for throwing her out on her ass but her more rational side couldn't let that happen. Mr. Stark was a man who'd been hurt by so many people over the years; had been lied to, manipulated, kidnapped, to name but a few instances. Sure, Peta was lying for noble reasons but that didn't change the fact that it was still a betrayal. Peta had ample opportunity to tell Mr. Stark about her web-slinging buddy and she consciously vetoed that idea. It was high time Peta learned to live with the consequences. 

Even if the consequences were grossly unfair, with no possibility for parole.

No. Peta was in A Messy Situation and the number one rule about messy situations was that nobody was in the right. There was no answer to formulate; no clear-cut solution. Everybody was right – and everybody was wrong. 

Paradox. 

(Was it weird that Peta was beginning to empathise with an inanimate word? Probably a little weird.)

And yeah, absolution would be sweet and all but you can't turn back time. Just because messages can be deleted and statements can be retracted doesn't change the fact that they were written in the first place. There was a reason why victims of false accusation never recovered. The words are out there forever and in life there are no take-backs. All Peta could do was find a way to live with it.

Morgan hadn't stopped crying in the immediate aftermath of her firing, so much so that Mrs. Potts acquiesced a final goodbye between Morgan and Peta. In the desperate few seconds before Mr. Stark alienated her from his life forever, Peta managed to impose the seriousness of her secret to Morgan, and all but begged her not to reveal it. 

It wasn't undramatic to state that her life was literally in Morgan Stark's hands.

Once the firefighters had stood down and the emergency responders had finished patching them all back together again, Peta made the shaky journey home. Her leg had practically healed in the short span of time it had taken for her life to dramatically crumble to dust, and whatever was in the smoke had dissipated through her bloodstream. In all honesty, she probably should have alerted somebody to her absence, but all she wanted was to get away from this nightmare that had suddenly become her living hell.

The news spread like wildfire, not dissimilar to the way in which Stark Tower caught aflame. Peta checked her phone on the subway and immediately wished she hadn’t.

There, slap-bang in the middle of the news app, was the fiery inferno of Stark Tower. And, because her life wasn’t bad enough, underneath there was a hastily-penned article that sought to incriminate Peta further:

Iron Man’s Daughter Left For Dead By Coward Babysitter. Click The Link To Find Out More.

The URL linked straight to a sketchy YouTube video, one that had already garnered thousands of hits, highlighting the showdown between her and Mr. Stark.

By the time she’d finally gotten in her front door, Peta had received numerous glares and muttered comments by passer-bys who also chanced upon the news.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

Journalists were also busy making a quick dollar by narrating their version of events on television, in which Peta featured as the primary antagonist. There was no mention of who started the blaze, although there were a couple of circulatory theories that suggested it was an inside job.

Spider-Man would have to investigate.

May had barely muted the TV, Peta’s blurry face horrifically frozen in time, before whirling around at a pace even Peta found dizzying, eyes wild and brimming with emotion. Peta had just shut the door behind her.

"Cut the bullshit," May had said before Peta gotten the chance to get a word in edgeways. "Peta, you have to tell me what's going on."

Peta opened her mouth...

– I’m Spider-Man. I'm Spider-Man, and I'm your niece, and I don't know what to do. The words were poised on her tongue, ready to be spoken. Hell, her whole body was begging to tell the truth. Keeping up this charade was costing her in more ways than one and if she could finally let go –

"Nothing. I'm fine."

Peta thought the worst thing in the world was having everyone make her out to be a liar, a coward, a villain who lacked scruples. She was wrong.

Worse was the disappointment in May's eyes. Worse still was the way she tried to hide it, to try and excuse Peta's behaviour.

"Were you thinking of Ben?"

Her uncle's face as he lay dying in a dingy street. Better – Uncle Ben deserved so much better. And blood. So much blood. Regret; she is drowning in it. Crumpling like a piece of paper in the fist of her failure.

Unbidden, hot tears stung the back of her eyes and Peta couldn't breath. She couldn't breath, and May's arms looped around her, the only anchor in a world determined to vilify her and worship her. 

"Shh, baby. Shh. It's okay," May whispered soothingly. Her hands rubbed tiny circles on her back. "I've got you, baby."

Peta only cried harder.

~

Ever since May had gifted Peta the perfect justification, she couldn't stop using it whenever anyone demanded explanations from her about her recent out-of-character actions. Peta hated having to pull the childhood trauma card and some part of her wondered whether her dear uncle would ever forgive her for using his death as a convenient excuse. Nonetheless, it worked. 

She was just chucking excuse after excuse, hoping one would stick.

Happy came by later that evening, voice trembling with an anger he could not contain. Peta feigned sleep, safely bundled up in her room. But she could still hear the furious indignation on Happy’s part, the frantic pleas from May, the final slam of the door, shaking so hard the Iron Man poster adorning Peta’s wall fell down.

Eight months after their first date, May and Happy’s relationship ended.

~

Later that evening, she snuck out as Peta Parker, heading to the one person she desperately craved advice from.

She sat cross-legged in the sodden mud, uncaring at the stubborn twigs digging into her legs. 

"Hey, Ben," she said shakily. She raised her hand to furiously wipe away a stubborn tear. "So, I think I've messed up on this one."

There was a rustle in the bushes.

Peta shot a watery grin to the headstone. "What do I do? Please, Ben. Tell me. What do I do?"

Ben never answered.

~

While Peta Parker was currently starring in a societal re-enactment of the Fall of Lucifer, Spider-Man was being praised by every person and their dog. The spider-themed hero's reputation had never been better. The Avengers were tweeting about "him", Mr. Stark couldn't stop singing "his" praises to whatever news outlet would listen. Honestly, life had never been so great.

– and so tragic. 

(Honestly, Shakespeare ought to have devised a play based on the duality of Peta Parker and Spider-Man. It would have gone down a treat with the gullible masses.)

It was funny – the way her two iterations were personified in the media. Good and evil. 

Hero was thrown around, juxtaposed with coward. After a while, the words blurred and started to lose their meaning until Peta couldn't figure out who she was: the hero who saved or the coward who lied?

Five Times Spider-Man Was The Villain And The One Time It Was Peta Parker.

Okay, so the Daily Bugle just full-out hated her. 

Peta huffed. Rude.

In laymen's terms: she was the orchestrator of her own downfall. And oh, what a glorious downfall it was.

It wasn’t as though she didn’t get it, because she did. It was easier to assume the worst in someone than the best. The worst thing was rarely wrong.

Come the following morning, she allowed her daily litany of self-loathing well up – Mr. Stark already had trust issues; congratulations, you've now added to them – before she got on with her day.

Unfortunately, high school was apathetic to matters of angst.

On the plus side, Peta was given a wide berth by many students, as though she were contagious. Nobody wanted to catch the disease of cowards and liars.

What she liked less were the sexist comments. 

"It is just so typical that two girls would need saving by a man. This is why no woman can ever beat Spider-Man."

"Zip it, Flash."

Not cool. 

One giant leap for man, one gigantic fall for women, she thought bleakly. How was it that in her duty as a superhero, she'd ended up responsible for the demise of feminism? 

So unfair.

Absently, she wondered whether this was what Eve felt, after being tricked by the serpent. Except Peta definitely had it worse, on account of her having not actually having done anything wrong.

The school newspapers were not exempt from recording the news at Stark Tower, meaning that her name and face were splashed all over the headlines. Apparently, Flash had bribed the student newspaper into renaming her PENIS PARKER – “for the lolz”.

"Nah. Didn't need to bribe, Penis. Everyone hates you." Flash said that as if it were the funniest joke in the world – and sure, it was. Fucking hilarious.

Brilliant. 

In the same breath as Peta Parker was being vindicated, Spider-Man was hailed a national hero.

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.

A literal paradox. Peta Parker or Spider-Man. 
Her phone chimed in the middle of lunch. Peta was resolutely Not Going There.

As per usual, she didn’t get a choice.

MJ snatched her phone away, ignoring Ned's dude, no and Peta's fumbling attempts to recapture it before she–

Yeah, no. She totally just read the message. (Also, on a completely unrelated note: Peta really needed to change her password. ASAP.)

Furious fingers typed rapidly on her device, nimbly committed to their task even as she angled her body awkwardly to prevent Peta from intercepting. Without so much as a glance in her direction, MJ palmed the stolen phone back across the table before gathering up her finished lunch. 

She paused only long enough to look back at Peta's terrified face. "You need to stand up for yourself, loser," was all she said before walking away, as cool and calm as ever.

And, no. Peta didn't watch her walk away. Where did you get that idea?

But her friends weren’t around to fight every battle by her side. The internet provided a relentless onslaught of hate directed to her, that she initially resisted. But then, a couple nights later, she was sent a link to a site that was currently hosting a We Hate Penis Parker party and, well, Peta’s never been one to shy away from confrontation.

Motivated by several energy drinks, and a generous handful of vicious necessity, Peta clicked on the link...

Only to be redirected to an error 404 message.

She leaned back in her seat, a frown making an appearance. It was notoriously difficult to just up and end an entire website out of the blue like that, even if it did violate several codes of moral conduct. So how did a website dedicated to bullying her just suddenly disappear? 

She worried about it for all of a second before shrugging. There'd be plenty more fish in the sea, all eager to take a bite out of Penis Parker. 

Anyway, the grass was greener in ignorance. What she didn't know couldn't hurt her.

~

The first time Spider-Man joined forces with the Avengers after the attack on the Tower, they each took turns to congratulate her for her heroic endeavours.

Peta tried to smile behind her mask – if you pretend you're happy long enough then you can trick yourself into being happy, right? – and made a conscious effort not to show how strained her words came out even through the modulator. 

Mr. Stark gently interrogated her, asking her if she knew who orchestrated the plot, if she caught even a glimpse of anyone or anything out of the ordinary. 

She hadn't. Much to her own frustration. Giving Morgan her mask meant she'd had to sacrifice her sight, the thick smoke damn near asphyxiating her in the process. And later, after she'd added another lie into the mix, she'd tried to hack into F.R.I.D.A.Y. to try and find the perpetrator but the system had been hacked, all cameras offline.

Whoever was behind it was a certifiable genius, though that didn't make Peta feel any better.

Despite the team's consensus that she had done plenty already, she felt useless, like Peta Parker's natural fallibility had seeped into her superhero persona. Spider-Man had never failed like this before; wasn't accustomed to life as a loser. 

She knew mixing her two halves would result in a concoction of catastrophic proportion, but she hadn't anticipated it on this scale.

"Tony," War Machine said; warning. But Tony Stark wasn't one to heed warnings.

"You saved my daughter," Mr. Stark said. "You saved my entire world. If something had happened to her... I owe you everything. Please, just let me help you. You can trust me."

No. She couldn't. Spider-Man couldn't trust anyone.

"Why won't you trust me?"

She couldn't tell him. Not after all the trouble she'd gone to, to ensure her identity stayed secret. This wouldn't be what made her snap.

"Look, I can't tell you," she snapped. "Okay? Doesn't mean I don't want to, because I do. Contrary to popular belief, I do enjoy having someone to talk to. But I just can't. I have people I gotta protect, at all costs, and if even one person knew my real name then that would put them in danger and I can't –" Her voice cracked. "I can't risk it."

Please don't ask me to.

Because if Mr. Stark kept pushing, she'd give in. And she wasn't ready. Would never be ready to deal with the fallout of that revelation – and she had the feeling he wouldn't know how to cope, either.

"We're just looking out for you, son," Captain America said softly. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and we're telling you: you don't have to."

She pushed him away. "Yeah, I do."

Mr. Stark nodded once, sharp. And then there was a sound like an elongated exhale being ripped apart through the Iron Man suit. 

"Did you." Iron Man asked, paused, and then carried on: "Did you save Peta Parker?"

Peta was suddenly very grateful for her Spider disguise then.

Calling on every scrap of acting experience, she made herself sound confused. "Peta... Parker?" She did quite well, considering the circumstance.

"Come on, Spidey. Surely you've read the news."

Was it Peta's imagination or was there an undercurrent of bitterness lacing his words, bleeding through the computerised Iron Man suit? 

"My daughter's babysitter. Or was. There was blood on her leg. She must have been injured. I can't believe I didn't –" Iron Man shook his head tersely. "Doesn't matter now."

Mr. Stark turned to face her fully, both hidden behind their respective masks. Except... Peta had the insane urge to just reveal herself; spare the man who she'd 'betrayed' from any pain.

"I just..." Mr. Stark paused. Some words were easier to say than others. "If you had any hand in helping her, then I just want to thank you." 

Peta felt like she'd been punched.

Even when she made herself out to be the villain, Mr. Stark was looking out for her. Didn't that deserve the truth?

"...don't worry about it," she croaked in Spider-Man's low tones.

Coward. To the last. 

Maybe the media was bang on the money after all.

~

Mr. Stark wasn’t the only Avenger to offer her support.

"I just wanna be normal," she whispered in response to why she wouldn’t reveal herself. The admission sounded like it was ripped from her without consent. 

"Take it from some spies who've been round the block once or twice," Barton said with a kind smile, "this kind of thing can eat you up. Especially if you haven't trained for this."

Natasha Romanoff stepped closer, face betraying nothing, yet Peta liked to think there was a sympathetic glint in her eye. Maybe it was wishful thinking. "You don't have to tell us right now. But someday. Because someone else will, and you'll need all the allies you can get." She smirked as she added, "Us spiders gotta stick together."

Peta appreciated the thought more than she could say.

~

Peta was mid patrol when the notification buzzed through her makeshift suit.

Morgan pressed the panic button. 

With her heart lodged in her throat, she wasted no time in swinging to the Tower, crawling along its mainframe like a spider running from a rampant newspaper, and then letting herself in through Morgan's window. She used the technology Ned had hastily manufactured for her, one that would cancel F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s alarm system long enough to sneak in.

Peta crouched down so she was Morgan's level, hands carefully tilting her head side to side, searching for any sign of the emergency that had Morgan frantically pressing the panic button. 

"You can't just press that whenever you feel like it, Morg," she chided quietly. "That's for emergencies only. I was really worried."

The girl in question didn't look perturbed by Peta's tender rebuke and instead folded her arms across her chest in a manner that was so reminiscent of her mother, the formidable Mrs. Potts. "This is an emergency."

Peta made a show of looking around. "What is it then?"

Her Spidey Sense didn't even go off, the little traitor, when Morgan catapulted herself into her arms. Peta was sure that without her super strength she would have been a heap on the ground, bowled over by the force of this attack. 

"You need a hug," Morgan murmured into her stomach. Peta's heart clenched and she embraced her eagerly, soaking up the love and adoration she was offering, like photosynthesis.

"Daddy still calls your name in the lab," Morgan blurted out, though she didn't seem to regret it. "He thinks no one hears but I do. I'm like you – I hear everything." 

Peta was too dumbfounded to speak; all she could do was nod.

"He misses you, Petey. I think Mommy does too. She keeps arguing with the people who live outside. The ones who ask about you." Morgan paused, determination bleeding into vulnerability. "And..." and her face scrunched up so adorably Peta had a hard time keeping her resolve. "I need you."

Ouch. Peta didn't need her heart anyway.

"I need my big sister to talk to me about school and all the stupid meanies. I need my big sister to help me do science revenge on Billy for –"

"Pushing you on the playground," Peta remembered with a fond smile.

Morgan nodded enthusiastically. "And I just want to hang out with you. My new babysitter is nothing like you, Petey. She's old and mean and smelly, and she doesn't do cool lab explosions like you."

Peta winced at the casual reminder of the cookery mess she'd made attempting to placate a bored Morgan. "I hope you didn't tell your mommy and daddy about that one, Morg," she said. Not that Mr. Stark needed any more ammunition to hate her guts, but Peta wasn't all that keen to test that theory.

"My daddy doesn't believe all those horrible things they say about you," Morgan said.

Peta scrubbed a haggard hand down her face. "Morgan–"

"He was only yelling at you because he was worried about me."

"Morgan–"

"And he was really worried about you."

Peta didn’t how to compute that sentiment. Sure, Iron Man had inquired as to her health, but... Why would he worry about her after what she ‘did’?

"Well,” she said instead, with a bravado she didn’t feel. “You can tell your daddy that I’m all better now. Your hugs are magic."

"They are?"

"One hundred percent. It's your superpower. Your hugs have healing properties."

Morgan pulled back far enough to look dead into Peta's eyes. There was something hauntingly vulnerable as she tentatively asked, "Do they?"

"Yeah." Peta tucked a loose strand of hair behind Morgan's ear. "I'm all better now. Don't worry about me."

Morgan frowned. "Someone has to."

"Nah." Peta forced some lightness into her tone, a bravado she didn't feel. "I'm Spider-Man. I protect everyone else."

Morgan was silent for the longest time. The only thing Peta could hear from her was her steady heartbeat and calm breaths as her five-year-old brain attempted to solve this equation the only way she knew how.

Peta could tell when Morgan reached a verdict for the confusion cleared from her brow. "If you ever get into trouble then I want you to promise me that you will tell my daddy, otherwise I’ll tell him myself.”

Peta gaped at the ultimatum before sighing. Given her parents, she really shouldn’t have been surprised at her bargaining skills. "You're a real hard ass, you know that?" 

Morgan giggled at the swear word. "You said a bad word. But I'll keep your secret."

Peta caught the double meaning, and felt nothing but sisterly love for the little girl. "You're amazing, Morg."

Morgan beamed, as bright as a star.

Peta pulled back gently as the sound of footsteps rounded the corner. 

Morgan frowned. "Is someone coming?"

"Yep. That's my cue."

"Now, Morgan. Listen to me." Peta held up the web fluid. "This is for emergencies only. Okay? You can't give me a heart attack in the middle of patrol for nothing. And you have to promise me: no more running away from your babysitters." Peta tried to inject some authority into her tone but the smile in her voice kind of gave the game away. "Spider-Man already saved your life once." Peta smirked as the footsteps grew louder. "Plus, I can hear your babysitter's BP, and it's not looking good."

Morgan laughed.

"It's no laughing matter. Seriously, you may actually kill your babysitter." Peta was smiling now, too – a full-blown, genuine grin that had no business plastering itself on her face but it was anyway.

Morgan hugged Peta, tight, one final time, before withdrawing. Peta knew she was watching as she opened the window, and dropped to the ground below.

~

Unfortunately, Morgan’s magical hugs did not extend far enough to counteract the whispers and veiled threats students at Midtown took great pleasure in hurling her way.

There were many advantages to her spider mutations – genetic enhancements was one of them. Except, in this case, it was more like a purveyor of bad news. 

There were just some things Peta didn't need to know. Didn't want to know. Things like I can't believe that bitch left a kid to die, and if I did that, I think I’d kill myself from the shame.

Not counting Peta's personal favourite: I don't know how she lives with herself.

On the one hand, this was good feedback. It proved that she really had everyone all fooled by her cowardice; that there would never be any confusion between her and Spider-Man, no overlap. Zilch. Which was good – exactly what Peta was aiming for. 

Only... it didn't make it any easier to stomach the flippant, callous remarks. Or the judgemental stares she got. And she knew – she knew that they didn't mean them. Not really. Not if Peta trusted them with the truth. They were simply reacting to the fact that, as far as they knew, she'd left a little girl to die, the little girl of the most powerful man in the world. Were Peta – hell, were anyone – in their shoes, she'd behave exactly the same.

Right?

It didn't take long for the high school taunts and jibes to become physical. 

It started with shoving her into her locker, which – to be honest, she'd already experienced several times a day for the better part of three years, so it wasn't exactly anything new per say. But then that quickly grew stale. They tripped her up in hallways, and she had to pretend to fall every time; they hurled paper balls at her face when the teacher was losing the other way, each one hiding a hateful message; they slammed her lunch tray to the ground and watched with vindictive smirks as she tried to pick up the remains of her food from the floor (thank god for her spider-fuelled immune system). 

They were humiliating. Painful. Embarrassing. But she could handle it. She was handling it.

And then they stepped it up a notch. After an afterschool Decathlon meeting, Flash accidentally on purpose pushed her down the stairs. Her Spidey Sense had long since deserted her, apparently her emotional state was running at significantly less than optimum efficiency, and she fell.

A litany of malicious giggles and cackles erupted behind her. Ned was rushing to her side, helping her up, and her ribs screamed in protest at the movement.

Great. Now broken ribs weren’t just a Spider-Man injury, they were a Peta Parker one.

“You should stay down, Penis,” Flash said behind them. “If you know what’s good for you.”

It was a testament, perhaps, to how low she’d sunk, that she visibly wilted in response to a high school bully’s threat.

“Just ignore him,” Ned said. If he noticed her trembling then he didn’t comment. All Peta could think was that she was glad MJ hadn’t been there to witness that.

Of course, because her day was already shitty, it was bound to become even shittier.

“Is that Happy?”

Peta trained her eyes on the spot Ned was staring at – and then immediately wished she hadn’t.

There, slap-bang in the middle of the parking lot, was unmistakably Happy.

Happy didn’t say a word, just opened the passenger door and impatiently waited for her to say a quick goodbye to Ned before clambering in. Her mind was awash with confusion; discombobulated thoughts and what ifs all dominating her head space, vying for the light. It was so loud, she was surprised Happy couldn’t hear.

The tense atmosphere was broken by the world-weary sigh emanating from the stoic man. Peta glanced up in surprise. 

"You gotta look out for yourself, kid," Happy said stiffly, eyes still firmly trained on the crowded road.

Fuck. He must have seen – or at least, witnessed the aftermath. Unsurprising, really, considering that she basically limped over to the car.

Terrific.

Peta nodded, brows furrowed. This was all out of the realm of normal for her.

She finally mustered up enough courage to ask Happy just what he was doing here, picking her up and – well, maybe not acting like her best chum, all things considered – but acting like a person who was minutely concerned for her welfare.

Happy cleared his throat. Peta heard the leather of the steering wheel twist beneath his grip, and had to hide a wince.

“I haven’t been fair on you,” Happy said slowly. “With what happened – I forgot that you’re a kid yourself, and you were injured to boot. You haven’t been trained to deal in those situations, and it’s unfair to presume otherwise.”

He sighed. “I’m not going to apologise, because you still left a child to die, and I can’t forgive that. But I can... cut you some slack. So, this is me. Cutting you some slack.”

Peta hadn’t realised she was crying until she felt tears slip down her face.

“Thanks,” she said; choked.

Something akin to pity flashed across Happy’s face, and he finally looked at her. He made a gesture to the glove box, mentioning tissues, to which she gratefully used.

“Don’t thank me, kid. Just... don’t do it again."

Peta nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Soon, they arrived at her apartment. Peta hastily unbuckled her seat belt and gathered her things, before pausing.

“May misses you,” she blurted out. Judging by the shock on Happy’s face, she maybe should have reconsidered her phrasing, but she had to say this; had to make this right for one of them. “She tries to hide it, but I can tell. And you – you made her happy. Happier than she’s been in a long time, and she deserves to be happy. And I think she made you happy.” Here, she would have made a pun on his name, yet she got the sense that this wasn’t the time nor the place. “So... I hope you guys make it right. Okay. Uh, that’s it. Thank you, Happy.”

She shut the door with more vigour than was strictly necessary, bounding up the steps as fast as she could.

~

Bizarrely, two weeks (and a grand two months since The Incident) after the encounter with Happy, Mr. Stark actually approached her in her apartment. May was out, busy at work, and so, with a heavy heart, Peta had welcomed Mr. Stark into their humble abode.

"Everybody makes mistakes, kid," Mr. Stark simply said, waving off her apologies, flashing a tight smile that Peta thought looked more like a grimace. His words were a vindication of sorts – or at least the best that Peta could have hoped for, given the circumstances – yet it was ruined somewhat in the way Mr. Stark couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. And the forced handshake was firm and stiff; unwelcoming.

Everything about Mr. Stark's body language positively reeked of mistrust: defensive and guarded. The sight was so visceral that it made something hurt inside of Peta, the knowledge that she was at fault for eliciting this reaction. Just because it couldn't be helped didn't make it any easier to sleep at night.

“Mr. Stark. I really am truly sorry; I should never have –"

"No, listen, kid –" Mr. Stark dropped his hand, sighing. "I... I know I've done some pretty shit stuff over the years. They used to call me the merchant of death, for Christ's sake. And what you did –" Mr. Stark had to pause, squeezing his eyes shut against the backdrop of that memory. Peta felt a pang of guilt for all her lies. "What you did was bad. It was really fucking bad. But. Everybody deserves a second chance."

There was a still hesitation in his posture, still distrust lingering in his eyes and his words – Peta believed she would never regain his full trust and that was... okay – but he was offering her an olive brunch.

And Peta was just greedy enough to take it.

Mr. Stark cleared his throat. “So, I have been sent by Her Royal Highness to invite you and Aunt Hottie to come over for dinner at the Tower. I’ve finally managed to finish redecorating after – Anyway. Rhodey will be there, and Happy, and... it’ll be fun.”

Dazed and confused, Peta had hesitantly accepted with no small amount of trepidation.

It turned out... actually, okay.

At some point after the introductory small talk, Colonel Rhodes had pulled her to one side and very quietly informed her that, as Morgan's godfather, he had a responsibility to look out for her wellbeing. He then went on to say that, under no terms and conditions, if Peta even considered pulling a stunt like the one at Stark Tower again, that he would not hesitate to make her life a living hell. 

Peta had nodded, looking appropriately nervous at the military man, until he clapped a hand on her shoulder and drew her back in to the merry gathering.

On the whole, the evening was a bit of a strange one. She had to contend with May and Happy's touchy-feely romance (again!), Morgan's pointed little comments about just how great Spider-Man is and oh, I wonder who he is, and Mr. Stark's sharp, analytical gaze surveying her like she was a scientific anomaly. It was a wonder she made it out alive, in all honesty.

Afterwards, following Mrs. Pott's dismissal of both Peta and May's offer to help wash up, Mr. Stark approached her like she was a wounded animal in dire need of help. 

But. A clean (ish) slate. Who would have thought she deserved that?

The media were only just starting to move on from "Starkgate" – whoever worked at the Daily Bugle needed to be fired, like, yesterday – and story-hungry journalists had finally stopped hounding both her and May's apartment, demanding a story (preferably one that further tarnished the Parker name). And, hey, the death threats had finally stopped which was always a bonus. Okay, so there was that one last week but Peta was fairly certain that that one was all Flash. It was riddled with typos.

Peta was slowly but surely being reaccepted into the Stark household. Yeah, so it was a little awkward still, being around Mr. Stark, and she still didn't really know how to fit in again – and that's not mentioning the odd scrutinising gazes Mr. Stark would occasionally hurl her way – but it was good. Nobody suspected her to be Spider-Man and the notorious incident was never brought up in conversation. 

Hell, Happy was even beginning to warm up to her again. Try as he might to deny it, Peta could sense the wall of ice that had been erected between the two of them starting to thaw. Peta was almost glad – nobody could replace Uncle Ben; not ever – but Happy made May smile, and she knew that her and the gruff older man being on good terms made her feel better.

Maybe one day, she could put the whole mess behind her.

Starting with a summer trip to Europe. May signed her permission slip for the trip, and Peta may or may not be planning a strategy to woo MJ.

In short: the world kept turning. 

Chapter Text

Peta was oddly looking forward to her trip.

May tearfully offered to give Peta Uncle Ben's old suitcase for her trip abroad. Peta had accepted it with shaky hands. She liked to believe that having this small material possession of Ben meant that he was still with her; looking out for her from beyond the grave.

Peta made the snap decision to leave her Spider suit behind. She needed to focus on herself and not the ginormous, life-altering secret for once. And, to be honest, she didn't think she could do it anymore. Stare at the symbol of all that she'd sacrificed, all just to keep up the superhero life; to keep up the charade of the nerdy loser who let little kids die.

To keep playing at being an Avenger.

Besides, they were going to Europe. How bad could it be?

~

Correction: really bad, really fucking bad.

~

It didn’t take long for problems to arise. Namely, in the form of extra-terrestrial lifeforms known apparently as ‘Elementals’.

Director Fury was raking his gaze over her face, eyes probing for a truth only he could decipher. Yet when he spoke, it was with a voice that searched for validation.

"Peta Parker. Stark's babysitter, who fled when the building was under attack?"

She tensed, poised for the barrage of insults to come flying –

"Hey. This is Peta Parker. There is not an incarnation of her anywhere in the multiverse that could leave a child to die."

She was so grateful she never even suspected why Quentin Beck held such intimate details of the attack on Stark Tower.

"If I'm seen like this in Europe, after the whole Washington Monument, my class will figure out who I am, and then..."

Fury snorted. "I don't think that's gonna be a problem." 

Oh. Right. The whole Peta Parker was a giant coward thing. 

"And then," she continued, biting down the rising irritation welling up, "the whole world will figure out who I am. And then, I'm done."

Director Fury let her go with a sigh and she, eager to get away from the never-ending barrage of superhero drama, practically skipped away. There was an odd sinking feeling in her stomach, though, that warned her she wouldn’t be able to sit on this information and meekly stand by.

But there was something about Quentin Beck, something so compelling about his passionate speech on the destruction of his home world and his own journey through the multi-verse ("Spider-Man gave his life to get me here; I owe everything to him.”). And Peta was a known geek, right? So this was right up her alley, ticking all kinds of ultimate nerd boxes she couldn't wait to discuss with Ned later. It was all just so damn cool that Peta had a hard time even noticing her tingling Spidey Sense. 

That was her mistake. 

Strike one.

~

Beck found her a little while after her chat with Fury, and he perched on the side of the roof with her. He managed to convince her to reconsider her stance, not that it took much persuading. Peta had a pretty big hero complex.

"I wonder if your origin stories are similar," Beck said evenly. “Whether you’re the same as the Spider-Girl I knew.”

Peta furrowed her brows. "Well, I was bitten by that radioactive spider in Oscorp if that's the same as your reality?" 

She didn't know how to analyse that almost gleeful glint in his eyes at the information she so readily gave away. She didn't like the prickle of unease that intensified the more pieces of herself she gifted him, so she made a conscious effort to reign it in.

Beck changed the topic soon enough.

"Do you ever think of putting the 'Girl' into the 'Spider'?" At her bemused frown, Beck elaborated, "I just mean – reinvent yourself. Shed Spider-Man and become Spider-Woman."

"I've been a man for so long, I doubt anyone will take me seriously if I suddenly change," she muttered bitterly into her cup. 

"That's not true. I'm here. I can be your superhero mentor." Beck's gaze was imploring her to trust her, and for some inexplicable reason she did. "You can trust me, kid."

Peta told him, not in so many words, but the gist of what happened recently.

"You let everyone believe you were a coward just so you nobody would find out your identity?"

Peta nodded. 

"Is your anonymity really that important to you?"

"It's not so much people finding out my identity that bothers me. I mean, yeah, sure it would be awkward, but it's more about how people would react to who I am. I've amassed quite a few death threats over the years, and the only reason they've all fallen apart is because nobody knows who I am. And I'm not worried about me – I'm worried about my aunt. I can't... I can't lose another family member. She can't die because of me. Not again."

Beck whistled. "That's tough, kid. Seriously. You're the toughest person I've met."

The worst part was: she believed him. Lapped up his every word, like some prized Labrador practically standing on the man’s toes in a bid to get his attention.

Strike two.

~

"You got gifts, Parker," said Fury, after the weird fire monster threatened to blow up the planet. "But you didn't wanna be here."

"Mr. Fury, I..." She bit her lip. "I just got my life together again. I can't jeopardise that."

"Everybody has problems. Not everybody has spider superpowers." Fury levelled his trademark stare at her. Even beneath the Stealth mask, she was intimidated by the sheer power in his one eye. "Spider-Man is a hero. Isn't he?"

He left her standing, harsh words ringing in her ears.

Beck drew her away, under the guise of going for ‘drinks’.

"Want my advice, kid?" Beck – Mysterio – asked a little later, a gentle smile softening his features. 

Peta raised her eyes from her drink. 

"You made your choice. You made it when you were fourteen, standing before your uncle's killer – and you spared his life. You made it again when you defeated the Vulture, against all odds, and when you saved little Morgan Stark from that horrible attack on Stark Tower."

It should have been disconcerting, hearing the culmination of all her actions over the years, accumulated by an intergalactic hero she didn't know. Hell, she felt unsettled by the calmness in which he spoke; like they were unshakable facts. She'd purposefully alienated every single person in her life from her crime-fighting life, to her own detriment... and yet here was this guy with all this intimate knowledge of the girl behind Spider-Man. Like she was an open book that only Mysterio could read. 

That didn't make his words any less true. Peta had made her choice; she would always make it. In the choice between heroism and cowardice, Spider-Man would come victorious. 

Peta smiled.

Beck smiled softly, and part of the tension in her shoulders loosened at the display of comfort. "What does your Spidey Sense tell you?"

Instantly, her guard was back up. "What – what do you mean?"

She thought she detected a flash of panic behind his eyes but it was gone before she could register it. Peta simply chalked it up to this whole multiverse reality – she was wearing the face of someone he knew, so it was bound to be a little weird when she didn't respond like he wanted her to.

"You have that here, don't you? The Spider-Girl I knew used it all the time. Helped us out of some tricky spots over the years."

Despite the fond wistfulness in his expression, there was a strong reluctance in her, arguing against divulging this information to a virtual stranger, and she doubted whether she should. She'd never discussed Spider-Man and her abilities so openly before.

First time for everything. Besides, she'd carried around this responsibility for years, alienated everyone she respected in the process. Just once... her luck could turn.

Peta inhaled sharply. "No. Yeah, I do have it. It's just... temperamental. It's not always accurate for me." She puffed out her cheeks. "Especially recently. With all that's been going on, my emotions flying everywhere – hasn't helped."

Beck nodded, a pensive look on his face, so she took it as impetus to elaborate.

"When it's Spider-Man, it's easier to manage. My Spidey Sense has saved me so many times. But when it's just me, Peta Parker, without the suit, it's personal. I can't be Spider-Man when I'm Peta Parker so I have to compromise. And that's... when the bad things happen."

She was suddenly aware that she had drifted into whining territory. Her face coloured of its own volition. "Oh, my god. I didn't mean to go on about it. You lost your entire planet and here I am going on about my own stupid problems. I swear I'm not usually this vulnerable and childish," she rambled. 

"But, um. Thank you, for listening – and for caring enough to listen." She bit her lip. She hated being this unguarded, so exposed and open, but Beck had taken the time to care for her. She owed it to him. "It means a lot."

"Anytime, kid. You'll get no judgement from me. I mean it. You can tell me anything."

Against her better judgement, she said, "I have some things I gotta get off my chest."

Beck nodded, eager and a little too keen. "Tell me."

So she did.

Strike three.

~

She should have realised sooner.

She only had herself to blame.

~

In no time at all, MJ helped Peta figure out that Beck wasn’t who he said he was. (Also, apparently Spider-Man really wasn’t as anonymous as she thought, considering that MJ already knew who she was – and was it weird that Peta wasn’t freaked out by that?)

In other news: Beck was a fraud. The elementals were fake. Peta had been duped.

"I don't think you know what's real, Peta."

Ain’t that the truth?

“You need to WAKE UP!”

Beck threw her from a great height, unceremoniously dumping her atop a car. She rolled off with a groan.

Ouch.

Peta fought with everything in her, as Beck transformed her back into her sweat suit, beating her with invisible versions of herself, flying around in his godawful Mysterio gear.

"Aren't you wondering where I got this technology from? Not even the slightest bit curious?" Beck taunted; cruel and mocking. 

She dodged a falling statue that didn't exist, and kept silent.

Mysterio floated down beside her, out of reach, though that was a moot point considering that he wasn't really there. 

He waved his hands with a dramatic flourish, melting the background – in its place the trademark STARK INDUSTRIES filtered into focus. 

No. 

Beck chuckled darkly. Peta clenched her fists at the illusion, voice reverberating in the nothingness. "You think I didn't see your face when you carried Baby Stark out of the burning building? Not exactly detective work, Sherlock."

Oh, god. It was him. Of course, it was.

"After all, no good deed goes unpunished."

With a rabid snarl, Peta ripped off Beck's pretentious fishbowl and... and...

Her own face stared back at her: cold and malicious. 

"I wonder if Aunt May will be able to tell the difference," her doppelgänger said cruelly. "Maybe I could convince her that you are the imposter. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Peta lunged. The illusion collapsed, bleeding into the ground.

"You could end it all, you know," Beck's voice whispered conspiratorially, as quiet as Peta'd ever heard it. "All you have to do – join me."

Peta grunted as she dodges falling glass. Her answer was as defiant and immovable as Everest: "Never!"

Beck cackled. And then the Vulture was there, dropping a statue on her head: grinning, laughing, chanting, "Hey, Pedro." Because Beck knew about that, because she'd told him, because she trusted him, and –

“If you were good enough, maybe Ben would still be alive.”

Spiders slipped out of every crevice of Ben's skull. They dangled from his eye socket and dripped from his jaw. Then, he opened his mouth to deliver the killing blow:

"Catching criminals isn't my responsibility," Ben hissed through broken bone. The sound of non-existent air scraping against his skull would forever haunt her.

She went numb. 

There was no point in retaliating; the game was over.

Game, set and match: Mysterio.

When that train finally came for her, after Mysterio pulled one final trick out of the hat, it felt like justice.

~

She woke up in a dingy cell with some surprisingly nice guys in the freakin’ Netherlands.

The. Netherlands.

So, without further ado, she broke out of prison (she only felt a tiny bit guilty about that), and all but begged another nice guy to use his phone. Peta called the only person she could viably lie to: Happy.

But. Crap. Her suit. Stealth had been purloined by that prison guard dude so that was out of the question. 

Except...

The suit she and Mr. Stark had been working on, way back when. The one she had sworn never to wear, sure that she would never deserve something of that calibre. Ordinarily, she would never. But these were trying times, and she was so screwed right now.

Happy didn’t ask too many questions, for which she was immeasurably grateful. Though she did notice the narrowing of his eyes as he caught sight of the shiner she could feel healing around her eye. Most likely, he assumed it was the result of high school bullying, especially after what he saw the other week. But he didn’t say anything. He seemed content to just let her wallow in pity for a second.

"Look, I." Happy waved a nondescript hand. "I don't know you. I don't think anyone really does." 

Peta looked down.

"But I have to believe that you're a good person. Maybe not perfect, but then again, who is?"

But Peta shook her head. "No. If I had been good enough..." The choked sob tore its way out of her throat before she had a chance to stop it. 

When Happy next spoke, his words were cradled in warmth, blanketing her in soft tones. "You need to stop punishing yourself, Peta." 

Peta dug her palms into her hands, and willed herself not to cry.

"Because this guilt, kid, it's gonna eat you alive."

"Maybe I deserve it."

Happy exhaled slowly. "No, you don't. There a million things about you that are good. I know 'em, I've seen 'em. One single moment isn't going to change that."

She sat back sharply, sending jarring bolts of pain shooting down her side. Scrubbing her hands over her grimy face, feeling the healing abrasions that painted her skin, Peta finally turned to look at the man she was proud her aunt was dating. Happy looked weirdly uncomfortable to be dealing with her heightened emotions, which she sympathised her, and yet his consolations had meant more to her than he would ever know. 

"Thanks, Hap."

Happy gave her a soft smile. It was disturbingly nice, actually. "Alright. What do you wanna do about this?"

"I'm gonna kick his ass."

~

They landed in London soon enough – she had to look up Flash’ Youtube in order to find where her class was. Of course, when they got there, Beck was staging the Avengers-level threat he’d promised, and Happy was understandably freaked.

Happy pointed a stern finger. "Stay in the jet," he commanded. Peta mock-saluted back, and, satisfied with her response, he set about finding her friends. 

Unbeknownst to him, Peta had no intention of staying behind. She quickly withdrew the red-and-black suit from the compartment she knew Mr. Stark stored it in as soon as he disappeared, and she made to go and fight Beck once and for all.

And she did not disappoint. Beck's ass was thoroughly kicked by the time Spider-Man was finished wiping the floor with stolen Stark drones.

Peta watched with a deceptive neutrality as Beck, laying broken and bloodied amidst the destroyed drones, transferred ownership of E.D.I.T.H. to her. He held the glasses out to her, waiting on baited breath for her to take it –

And she blocked the gunshot to her right with a deafening bang!

(Because invisible Stark tech never caused her any problems.)

She stole the glasses Beck took from Mr. Stark, the one with the morbidly obnoxious acronym, and ended the fight. Beck lay dead on the floor beside her.

Finally. It was all finally over.

~

Except nothing was ever as it seemed with her.

~

May cried when Peta’s plane dropped back down.

Just because Peta won didn’t mean that she could forget.

Peta couldn't bring herself to go to Uncle Ben's grave on what would have been birthday – the tombstone would only serve as a reminder of the horror Beck had inflicted on her. It consumed her every sleepless night; she couldn't risk having a panic attack

Of course, Peta couldn't tell her aunt any of this. Instead, she tried every trick in the book to get out of going. Some of them were downright pitiful, and the guilt ate her alive, the words tasting like ash in her mouth, but she forced them out regardless. May's reaction was what really got to her though – the undercurrent of hurt beneath the frustration that Peta wouldn't go. Happy came to her rescue, though, which shocked May enough that she eventually relinquished Peta for the night, instructing her that as recompense she had to stay with Happy for the duration. 

Peta prayed to Uncle Ben for forgiveness immediately afterwards.

It was ironic, in a cruel sense. Ben's death was the reason why Peta kept her identity separate. Spider-Man needed to be free of the constrains Peta Parker inflicted – all her petty emotions and trivial thoughts had no place burgeoning the web-slinger. She couldn't afford to blur the lines between normalcy and superhuman. Didn't want another's blood on her hands due to her incapacity to do the right thing.

It was funny. With Toomes, Peta had known on some instinctive level that it truly wasn't personal. That it wasn't some vendetta against Spider-Man that drove him to commit his crimes – ultimately, it had been love. And Toomes had even offered, in his warped version of human decency, to spare her life should she never interfere in any of his illegal dealings. 

But Beck... Beck talked a lot about how she had "made him do this". How she had made him psychologically torture her – the murder thing she could forgive; it was par for the course for the friendly neighbourhood superhero.

In hindsight, she really should have questioned why the glasses accepted her authority so readily.

~

"Gotta admit, kid, I'm kind of offended you let someone else give you a suit and not me," was the first thing Mr. Stark said when Peta dropped by unannounced at two in the morning. 

Her heart stuttered. On the plus side, it seemed Mr. Stark hadn't noticed the stealing of the multi-million dollar suit – although, she was currently wearing it so that was probably just wishful thinking. Either that or he was being deliberately obtuse. Both options worked for Peta; she wasn't fussy. "Uh– I have no idea what you're talking about. That was the, uh, the Night Monkey."

"The Night Monkey?" Mr. Stark parroted, voice dripping with mirth. "Hate to break it to you, but you need a better alias."

You think? Peta wanted to say but couldn't. Oh, the irony. 

Still, banter was the number one weapon at Spider-Man's disposal so she instead retorted, "Oh, I don't know. You haven't figured out who I am yet, have you?"

Mr. Stark's eyes locked on to Peta's, and even safely ensconced behind the mask, Peta could see the cogs whirring, the familiar ticks of that mechanical genius-sized brain of his working in tandem to deduce the secret of Spider-Man's identity.

"I'm starting to," Mr. Stark said after a beat, an odd note punctuating the last syllable. 

Whatever spell Mr. Stark conjured on her vanished when he turned around, further validating Peta's assumption that he held no concrete proof of who exactly he was speaking to.

She blew a silent sigh of relief. Crisis averted.

"Did you want something?" asked Mr. Stark. "Not that it's not a pleasure to see my Spidey-Son, but you're not one for social calls."

“Haven’t you seen the news?” The attack on London was the subject of many a conspiracy theory, the majority of them pertaining to Spider-Man being an evil mastermind.

"Yeah. The media shit storm about what happened in London is a mess, kid. I don't even know what happened."

Peta fumbled for the glasses, nerves making her actions clumsy. "This should help with that," she said, offering them to him.

Mr. Stark appeared pleasantly surprised at her handing him back the glasses. She was almost offended.

Peta didn’t know what to say, and apologies were threatening to emerge from behind her teeth. “I’m sorry about what happened,” she said. She didn’t know to which incident she was referring to, and she didn’t have the heart to analyse it.

Mr. Stark waved a dismissive hand. "I am already dealing with the ramifications of your heroics." He shot her a self-deprecating grin. "Wouldn't be the first time a project of mine went haywire and destroyed a city. At least they can't say I'm boring. I am nothing if not consistent."

Peta saw through his veiled humour, could see the chinks in his armour that oozed guilt and regret. 

"Why did you make it?" She kept her tone as neutral as possible, face a literal blank slate.

For a second there she believed her question would be left unanswered, but then Mr. Stark scrubbed a weary hand down his face, wiping his previous nonchalance. Mr. Stark looked as though he'd aged significantly in those precious few seconds where he formulated a reply.

In a tone that aimed for indifference yet fell short of the mark, he asked, "You remember the Battle of New York?"

Peta frowned, the unexpected reference floundering her. Still, she nodded, uncertain.

Mr. Stark blew out a breath, forcefully. "Ever since New York, with that alien army, I've been preparing for the endgame." He gave a sardonic half-smile. "I always thought it'd come from up there. I never imagined that the fight would be between ourselves. An oversight on my part. Humanity once again prevails."

Peta lowered her head, musing over his words. The weapons he’d made, designed to protect the world, had almost ended the world. Not unlike Ultron and the whole Sokovia thing from a couple years ago.

Maybe... maybe this wasn’t all on her.

Before she could voice her opinion – she didn’t even know what to say – Mr. Stark shook his head, focusing back to the here and now.

"So, what do you think?” He waggled his glasses back at her. “Should I check the feed from my A.I., or should I learn to trust the world?”

Peta could read the subtext: Should I trust you? And she couldn’t answer it.

"You'll see my identity," was all Peta said in a tone devoid of emotion. Blank. She'd leave it up to Mr. Stark to pull apart and dissect.

Peta was done with lies.

~

Returning E.D.I.T.H. back to Mr. Stark was the only Spider themed activity she had the heart to do since she’d been back. For a week, she just sat around the apartment, doing her best to placate May’s worries while simultaneously fighting the rising anxiety that lived in her own head.

Peta hadn’t heard from Mr. Stark. He hadn’t viewed the footage after all; he chose to trust her.

A week after London, Peta finally went out again in the Spider suit. May was currently with Happy at the Starks’ lake house – it was an opportune moment to get back on the horse, so to speak. Mr. Stark even extended the invitation to the lake house to Peta, and it didn't escape her notice that this was a big deal. Mr. Stark still trusted her, even after everything...

But she couldn't trust him in return. Couldn't trust anyone. Beck just reinforced that.

She politely turned down the offer, instead choosing to spend the day with MJ as Spider-Man. Also, Peta was fairly confident that she was one well-timed question or gentle look away from spilling the proverbial spider beans, so, there was that.

(Yeah, it might have been just a tad irresponsible to publicly take MJ swinging as Spider-Man after having informed anyone who would listen that Peta Parker was dating her. But she was a teenager. She was bound to make stupid decisions. It was a learning curve.

And if just a teensy bit of it was a cry for help – well, she wasn't into psychoanalysis.)

The point was – she wasn’t prepared. Nothing in the world could have prepared her. The aftermath of the attack on Stark Tower was nothing in comparison to this:

"Spider-Man attacked me for some reason. She's got an army of weaponised drones – Stark technology. She's the one who planted the bomb in Stark Tower; said she was the only one who could be the hero. No one else.”

Beck, or whoever the hell was behind it, released doctored footage of the incident in London, incriminating her.

Then:

“Spider-Man’s real name is... PETA PARKER!”

Honestly, what followed was a blur. Peta acted like a gargoyle for half a minute, while pedestrians and citizens of New York – people Peta protected; without reward – filmed her on their phones, hollered death threats and threw stuff at her. Her flight reflex finally kicked in once her brain registered MJ screaming at her to run, and she did just that, ditching MJ like the coward she was.

She ducked into a darkened alley once she had lost the initial crowd.

Mysterio's final truth, rubbing the posthumous victory flag in Peta's face.

But Beck was dead. He was dead dead dead. Peta saw him die so how –?

She ripped off her mask in the dingy alley, crouching between two dumpsters. Holding her shaky hands out, she willed them to chill the fuck out. Peta couldn't afford to panic. The sky had just fallen; this was no time to fucking panic.

May was safe. She was safe. Ned was with his parents, and MJ had hopefully reached safety.

With an apathetic hysteria, she recalled that Sherlock episode, where he was hailed a fraud: That's how you sell a big lie. You wrap it up in the truth to make it more palatable. 

Peta shivered and clenched her fists tighter. She didn't fancy having to fake her death. (Speaking of, had Mysterio pulled a Sherlock and faked his death in a similar fashion?)

Because – God, what the hell was she supposed to do now? She'd been working so hard to besmirch Peta Parker's name, so innocently sure that nothing and nobody could ever touch Spider-Man and now, now –

Why should anybody believe her?

She was an island surrounded by water: cut adrift. In her quest to strengthen her secret, she had left herself defenceless. In her quest to protect those she loved, she was defenceless.

The perfect scapegoat.

It was awful, horrible. The worst; the very, very worst. Peta would never call herself arrogant – other personality traits like compulsive lying and a penchant for finding trouble and punching it in the face spring to mind – but this felt pretty arrogant. Presumptuous, even. Beck was a master illusionist. How could Peta possibly have believed, even for a second –?

Now, because of her foolhardy recklessness and haughtiness, her entire life was upended. Ruined. Not just for her, but for everyone. MJ, Ned, May – god, even Happy by association. All targets, all held accountable just for the misfortune of knowing her. 

She had to get out of there: ASAP. This was no time for caution.

She webbed herself up to the side of her building, crawling along the side, swinging gracelessly to an unknown destination; to as far as her body was willing to go.

Eventually, she ran out of steam at the top of some remote – well, as much as you could be in the middle of New York – fifty-storey building. Peta flopped off to the side, eyes streaming as a result of swinging maskless. (Not like she had a secret identity to protect.)

She was, and would always be: Peta Parker. Just a deluded kid playing dress-up, believing she was – what, a hero? 

What a joke.

She didn’t know how long she stayed up there. Time ceased to hold any meaning when facing the threat of hyperventilation – but the next thing she knew, she wasn’t alone.

"Knew there was a tracker in this suit," she said suddenly. 

The sight that greeted her when she turned around wasn't exactly a surprise. The supposedly retired Iron Man armour, with its expressionless faceplate and angry slits that just reeked of disappointment, faced her; its judgemental gaze snapped on to her spider clad form. 

Peta had to swallow the lump in her throat. After all this time; it was all leading to this. 

"Didn't you hear," she started, voice straining casual, "the word on the street is: Peta Parker is a mass murderer. She wormed her way into your home, pretended to be Morgan's babysitter, staged a bomb all so she could steal your drones and your tech, and start a grand heist." She threw her arms up, gesticulating wildly, mouth contorting into a vicious snarl. "All so she could fake being a hero."

She gestured to the Iron Man suit. "So that's what this is," she said. "An arrest warrant."

"Jesus, kid. No." Mr. Stark sounded aghast at her accusation, fervently denying it. "I'm here to help you."

Peta's brain short-circuited, failing to compute the raw honesty in his tone.

Iron Man hesitantly walked over to her. “Come with me,” came his reply. “I owe this to you, and I will protect you. I promise. Trust me.”

Peta shrugged off his pitiful attempts to reconnect with a derisive snort. Trust – she couldn't afford to trust. Not again. "Yeah, right. If you even cared, you'd actually be here."

There was a metallic hissing noise, and then...

The Iron Man suit retracted and Tony Stark walked out. 

Peta jumped back in shock. Her Spidey Sense hadn't warned her about this. Hadn't alerted her to the fact that Mr. Stark would actually come for her. 

Yes, but not in the way you think, that cynical part of her mind whispered – the same part that had been forced to evolve to relinquish the gullibility her youth afforded her. He's not here to help you, he's here to destroy you. 

Trust no one. 

Even if this wasn't another beautiful illusion conjured up by Mysterio, there was the simple fact that he had framed her for the attack on London. Why would Mr. Stark even believe her, after she'd spent all that time lying?

She unconsciously shifted into a defensive stance as Mr. Stark advanced on her until he faltered, uncertain, at her reaction and raised his hands in silent surrender, like one might tame a wounded animal.

The comparison made her want to cry.

A muscle in her jaw twitched: tense and taut, full of repressed emotion.

In spite of herself, she had to refrain from laughing at the automatic name that popped up beside Mr. Stark's head in her new visor. The God of All Time. Even in the Spidey suit, there was no respite from his gigantic ego – it was woven into the very fabric of her identity. There was something quite calming about that, though; something familiar.

Or maybe she’d finally lost it. 

"I thought I knew when I was being lied to." She swallowed. "I won't make that mistake again." A crazed smile danced along her lips; cold. “Congratulations, Beck. You've won."

The incredibly lifelike decoy of Tony Stark sucked in a sharp breath. “Kid. I – You won. You did it. Beck is gone. It’s just you and me here.”

Her heart missed several beats, pulse skyrocketing as her mind ran overtime, filling her head with all sorts of plausible denials. She narrowed her eyes, not shifting in her stance: "If you really are who you say you are, then why should I trust you?"

Mr. Stark struggled to answer, so she instead posed a different question.

"Why should I trust that you'll believe me?" Because Peta was sceptical of Mr. Stark's words. The last time she'd trusted someone, they'd used her as nothing more than a convenient scapegoat, and outed her identity to the hounds.

Mr. Stark was silent. She would've worried that he'd gone were it not for the erratic heartbeat thumping wildly. Looked like it wasn't just Peta who needed help with anxiety.

"Peta, I give you my word that I'll never doubt you again."

That was... nice. Really nice, actually. Only the damage was done – Mysterio had broken her beyond repair. Peta couldn't afford to trust reality, wary that as soon as she dropped her guard, the illusion would fade and she'd be back in London. 

"What about Beck? Thought he was from the multiverse?" Peta knew the truth, of course, but she couldn't ascertain Mr. Stark's stance. Couldn't be sure that whatever came spewing from the man's mouth wasn't a cleverly-worded lie intended to trap and cage her, handing her off to the authorities at the drop of the hat. The other possibility was that this wasn't Mr. Stark at all, but rather an expertly-crafter illusion, concealing the master trickster behind Tony Stark camouflage. 

Peta didn't know which reality was worse. She pressed her knees up to her chest, and struggled to get her breathing under control.

"Kid, there's no multiverse out there that could possibly hail Beck a superhero. Not when there's a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man just around the corner."

Peta hated herself for even having to ask this question but desperately needing the validation. "How do I know that I can trust you?" Because this fear went beyond just Beck and the trauma that madman inflicted – this stretched way back when to a scared little kid in a sweat suit, wanting to trust her personal hero with her earth-shattering secret. This was a culmination of all her childish doubts that plagued her with every web she shot; could she trust this person with Spider-Man?

(Of course, the whole thing was kind of a point moot now anyway, thanks to that asshole in CGI regalia, but that didn't make her insecurities any less real.)

Mr. Stark sighed, raking a hand down his face. “You gave me E.D.I.T.H. the day before last. I hadn’t seen it; I wasn’t going to. I should have seen it as soon as you gave it to me – seen what that asshole did to you. Maybe I could have helped you the way you deserved.”

Peta's eyes were comically wide as she whispered in a horrified breath, "You've seen it?"

The look on Mr. Stark’s face spoke volumes.

"Bet it made for some great viewing," she said shakily, hands playing with an invisible piece of lint on her trouser leg. "Which part was your favourite? The bit where I was so pathetically desperate for praise, or the part where it massively backfired?"

Peta was gasping for air now, hands pawing at her chest, around her heart. Fingers tried to find purchase on her skin, digging in deeper, hoping to feel the thump thump thump of her heartbeat –  nice and strong and alive – but she couldn't do it because she couldn't breathe.

Why couldn't she breathe?

"Just – just let me catch my breath –" Peta stuttered, squeezing her eyes shut. Her senses were blown wide into overdrive, overcompensating for how useless they were for 95% of the fight against Mysterio, when it actually counted. She just needed to focus on something tangible, something real, something –

Beck, Mysterio. Mysterio, Beck.

Peta, Spider-Man. Spider-Man, Peta.

Whose truth mattered more? Which reality was nothing more than an abstract construction, and which was concrete?

I control the truth. Mysterio is the truth.

Peta couldn't hold back the whimper as Beck's evil japes played over and over and over again in her mind. 

"Kid, five things you can see. Go, now. Don't think, just say five things you can see."

What?

"I – I can't." Senses dialled to eleven. "I see everything."

Mr. Stark's hand grappled for hers, squeezing so tight she almost feared permanent damage. 

"Focus on my hand," he instructed over the roaring in her ears. "Block out everything else. Just focus on my hand."

It took several long seconds for her heartrate to stabilise, blocking out all sensory output and doing her best to hone in on Mr. Stark’s touch, tethering her.

Jesus. A panic attack. She’d just had a panic attack. In front of her ex-mentor. Thankfully, Mr. Stark didn’t seem too put out.

Still... “I-I’m sorry, I –”

“No.” His voice was stern, removing any trace of guilt from her system. “You never have to apologise to me again, do you understand? You have nothing to apologise for, ever.”

Pathetically, this was when her own emotional shortcomings got the better of her.

"I just – I just wanted to be like you," Peta sobbed, hands coming up to shield her face from view. Even with all that, though, for the first time in a long time, Peta felt safe. (And safety, for her? Was in very short supply.)

"I'm so sorry, kid.” Mr. Stark said. It was probably her imagination, but his voice sounded choked. “For everything. It was me he was getting at; this whole time, all he wanted to hurt was me."

Peta huffed, doing her best to keep the lump in her throat from breaking the proverbial dam. "Unoriginal," she said, forcing the corners of her lip to curve upward, even if nobody could see. "Every big bad guy I've faced has hated you. Toomes, Green Goblin – in fact, both the Osborns hated you – and now Mysterio. For once, I want to face a villain who just hates me." She paused.  "It's not fair. You get all these guys hating you, and who do I have? The entire Daily Bugle publication. There's no competition."

"Oh, I don't know, Pete," said Mr. Stark. "J.J. Jameson is pretty ballsy."

"Can't argue with that one."

Mr. Stark got to his feet, extending a hand down to her. “You ready?”

Peta hesitated, uncomfortably reminded of that car ride "Fury" offered, before the illusion receded and it was revealed to be Mysterio behind it all.

"Is this. Are you –" She hated how her voice broke. "Real?"

Mr. Stark smiled. “One thing only I know: you mutter to yourself, loudly, when you’re working on a problem. Sometimes, you poke your tongue out as well when you’re really focused.”

The burning in her face was secondary to the utter relief that surged through her. The tension melted off her bones, and she jerked a nod at Mr. Stark’s expectant expression, and took his hand.

Peta was done hiding.

~

They arrived at the lake house within the hour. The whole team was there – the Avengers, Mrs. Potts and Morgan, Happy and May. Everyone.

May hugged her tight and didn’t let go.

Peta talked for hours. Once the dam had been prised wide open, there was no containing the flood. Years’ worth of secrecy and lies saw the light of day, trials and tribulations she had fought to overcome finally being acknowledged.

Everyone was silent when she was done; unnerving but also somehow... freeing. She’d never told anyone this stuff before.

Meeting the rest of the Avengers was pretty cool, even under the circumstances.

"You know, you're not at all who I pictured Spider-Man to be," Doctor Banner stated conversationally before blanching at his own words. 

Peta waved off his sincere apologies. "No, it's okay. I know what you mean, and I get it." And she did. Spider-Man was a larger-than-life construction... Peta Parker was not.

"Jesus," Mr. Stark said suddenly. Peta frowned in his direction. She had just finished giving a brief overview of the incident at Stark Tower. "You were going to tell me, when I found you after...?"

Can we speak alone?

Peta had enough of lies. With a curt nod, she said simply: "Yeah." And then she elaborated, "I was going to tell you. I was. But then I thought: what's the point? It wouldn't change anything. But if I could convince people that there was no way I could be Spider-Man, then I can keep my anonymity."

A thought came to her then. "Did you ever think that I was–?"

The guilt that flashed across Mr. Stark's face was all the confirmation Peta needed, and she let the question die in the air. With a rueful upward turn of the lips, Peta looked away and swallowed down the suppressed bitterness and self-pity at her situation. Keeping lies was partly the reason why she was in this mess to begin with, so she had to shoulder at least half the blame. 

But Mr. Stark... if Mr. Stark could share the weight of her. If Peta could unload some of her baggage – not a lot because Peta knew she was carrying tonnes. Just a tiny bit. Then she'd be okay.

She got the sense that she would be drowning in apologies soon enough. It was all a bit much.

Oh, and apparently, Nick Fury wasn’t really Nick Fury. He was an alien. So was Maria Hill. They weren’t really there. Maybe it was karma for all the lies Peta told, yet she felt inexplicably deceived.

"Was everyone lying to me then?" she asked then. She hated how her voice cracked, hated the tenuous fragility that betrayed her, but she was powerless. "Great. Looks like gullible really was written on my forehead."

Translation: looks like the damage Beck inflicted would last for a great long while.

Soren elbowed Talos, hissing something too low for even Peta's hearing to detect. She watched, bemused, as the fake Fury rolled his eyes, turning to face her.

"We're, uh." Talos coughed. "I'm sorry I deceived you. And for trusting that little asshole. And for forcing you to be Spider-Man."

"And for shooting her friend," the other alien hissed again, this time loud enough for the whole damn room to hear.

"Oh, yes. And for that."

Peta did her best to smile, though it was strained and weak. "Don't worry about it. Ned thought it was very cool, by the way."

Hesitant chuckles followed her remark. Nobody quite knew what to say; how to say it. There was no contingency plan – no warning that Tony Stark’s babysitter/occasional intern was secretly Spider-Man all along. That’s a plot twist reserved for only the most ambitious movies, not real life.

A little while later, Peta requested to speak to May privately, hoping to assuage some of her worries, and answer any of the million questions she knew were buzzing around May’s head.

The first thing her aunt did when they were alone was hug her. Peta tensed for all of a second before melting into May’s embrace with a whimper. She’d been doing so well to keep it all contained, to keep the fact that her life had just fallen apart under wraps. She wasn’t about to break that streak now.

Peta could hear the waver in May’s voice as she asked: “Why did you never tell me?”

"Y'know, we're not related." Her arms felt May's body tense; May's breaths stopped rhythmically blowing into her ear. Every part of her was focused on Peta's words. "Like, by blood. So, you. You have no reason to keep me. No obligation. You would be well within your rights to get rid of me for whatever reason, and I wouldn't hold it against you."

Peta tightened her defensive hold over her only living family member. "I just – I didn't wanna give you a reason to," she confessed, mouth garbled against May's cream blouse.

"Peta. Baby. Why –" May had to collect herself, pulling away just enough to look her in the eye. "Why did Ben say that, in that nightmare illusion?" 

Peta’s stomach was lead. "When I. When I first got my powers, I was selfish with them. I didn't have to be that loser at school, the one everyone picked on. I could leave Penis Parker behind and become someone better."

She ducked her head, unable to face the judgement she knew would be awaiting her.

"I thought I was owed something. Thought that the universe had finally just given me a break. My parents were dead, I was bullied for years, I was a loser – and then I was bitten by a spider in a freak accident and suddenly... I wasn't Peta Parker anymore. I was someone else. Someone better." Peta's lopsided grin failed to hide her self-deprecation, and when it fell so did the last of her defences. "I thought I was owed something, but I wasn't. The universe doesn't work that way. I took my life for granted, so it snatched my uncle away."

"Peta..."

"Don't," she said, sniffing. Her voice had largely remained steady throughout, if a little shaky in places, and she would not allow herself to crack. Not here. Not now. "Don't say it wasn't my fault, because it was. It was."

Three years ago. Uncle Ben drove her to the store. All Peta wanted was a snack. Her enhanced metabolism... she was starving.

She was also poor.

"Babysitting orphans isn't my responsibility," the shopkeeper had said when Peta failed to pay the price, derision spiking his tone.

Peta had bristled, fury painting her face red, yet she could do no more than step aside. 

When the burglar vandalised the store, it felt like justice. Like a sign from above. So, she had thought nothing of it when she stepped aside once more, allowing the thief the perfect opportunity to escape.

That was her mistake.

"Catching criminals isn't my responsibility," Peta responded all those years ago; selfish and petty. 

Every time she thought her luck had turned, that she had finally been awarded some divine right for her troubles, the universe scorned her. 

Parker Luck; fool's gold. Useless. A cheap imitation.

Her uncle paid for her sins, and now Peta was finally reaping her karma. No less than she deserved.

Peta was drawn out of her painful reverie by the sound of May’s sob, and the resurgence of her embrace. 

Tomorrow, she knew she would have to face the music. To see the full force of the Bugle’s accusations, to bear witness to the reaction of the general public. But the Avengers would be there, protecting her, guarding her, making sure Beck or his cronies wouldn’t hurt her.

And tonight... tonight she could rest. Just for tonight, she could be both Peta Parker and Spider-Man, and not have to compromise on either one.