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Chapter Text

Peter flips through the multipage worksheet on Stoichiometry.

It’s not just that detention sucks. It’s the cold and sobering thought that he deserves this time out.

Coach Wilson is nice enough to let the kids do their homework for the full hour-and-half and Peter uses the time wisely. He’s behind on at least three assignments and a book reading due in two days. 

Spider-Man was a high that Peter’s been gliding on for several months. And now, with the suit out of his hands, he’s falling, tumbling down a cliff to crash into the cold valley of disappointment.

If only he could apply this literary analysis to his book reading, English Lit would go a whole lot smoother.

Michelle is at a chair right by the window. She’s thankfully done drawing Peter’s downtrodden expressions and has begun to sketch a bird building a nest. The thin tree outside the building has weak branches, but the brown swallow persists.

Rock bottom doesn’t feel so bad.

It was terrible the night he had to walk back home with none of Stark tech, but now… he’s an inch above the ground and it’s mostly alright.

Peter finishes a full section of his worksheet before excusing himself for a bathroom break.

He exits the detention room with the old wooden placard. The hallway is clean and empty, sunlight streaming in. Peter barely has a second to appreciate the silence before he sees Liz walking toward him.

Probably not toward him. Just in his general direction.

“Liz! Hey, hey—” Peter stammers. He’s frozen, holding the placard like a shield against his own nerves.

“Hey,” Liz says, smiling. She looks so sweet that Peter exhales, eyes wide. 

“I thought you had Calculus, fifth period,” he says before wincing. Does that sound stalkery? Both he and Ned had memorized her schedule at the start of the year. That sounds so bad!

“Yeah, I was just doing some homecoming stuff,” she answers, not too bothered by the range of emotions flitting across his face. Maybe she’s used to it.

Peter goes for the dive. “Hey, look, I— I just wanted to apologize about the whole decathlon thing.”

Liz shakes her head, looking over at the trophy case. “It's fine. Last week, decathlon was the most important thing, but then I almost died.”

Oh man, yeah. That happened. His heart his thumping out of his chest.

“No, I'm,” he tries. “I just mean that… it was not cool, especially… because…”

Go for it, dude. Nothing to lose.

“I like you.”

He whispers so low, even he can’t hear it well. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Liz smile.

“I know.”

Um, what? Peter’s head whips up to stare at her.

“You do?”

Liz grins. “You're terrible at keeping secrets.” 

Okay, that… that makes Peter smile. “Yeah, you'd be surprised.”

Liz raises an eyebrow before turning back to the trophy case. Peter can’t wait to tell Ned that he’s talking to her like a normal person! 

“I got to get to class,” he says, still riding the high. “But—I'd say we should hang out, but I'm gonna be in detention… forever. I guess you already have a date to homecoming.”

That last part slips out.

“Actually,” Liz says, distracted. “I was so busy planning it, I never really got around to that part, so...”

Is this an opening? Is he getting mixed signals from her? Does she expect him to say something? Peter can’t believe his ears.

“Do you want to… go with me?” he whispers, pointing to himself. 

Liz turns, surprised. She opens her mouth, blinking a bit. This is his warning.

“Oh, Peter,” she says, going for a smile that’s tentative and kind, but not the type that accompanies a ‘yes.’

“That’s so sweet of you,” Liz continues. “But, I don’t think we should.”

He stares. “Why not? I mean, like… why don’t you think…?”

Liz shrugs, swinging her arms. She suddenly seems awkward. “You’re a little too young for me, Peter. I’m turning eighteen this year. It’ll be kinda weird, I think. You’re fourteen, right?”

Peter’s heart sinks. “Fifteen! I’m… I’m fifteen now. You’re still seventeen, so that’s okay. I don’t mind!”

Liz hesitates. “I do, though. I don’t want to be that girl who goes out with a Sophomore… you are cute, Peter. But it feels weird.”

It isn’t! He wants to say. It isn’t weird at all.

“Everyone thought I was crazy to recruit a fourteen-year-old kid!”

Mr. Stark had never seen him as someone capable to take on the problem even though Peter had powers and had the responsibility to do it. 

And now, Liz is in the same boat. She thinks he won’t be able to care about her, that he can’t be mature enough for her?

“It won’t be weird,” Peter says earnestly, with a hint of desperation. “We can… I mean… I get that you wanna be nice about it, I swear, I’m almost like sixteen! It’s just one night! We can have lots of fun!”

Lots of fun, he winces. Could have said anything worse?

Liz sighs, still smiling, but it seems patronizing now. “Sorry, Peter. I wouldn’t feel right going out with you. If someone two years older than me asked me out, I’d be creeped out.”

Peter nearly cracks the detention placard. “But… you don’t creep me out.”

Her smile widens and grows genuine. “Thanks. But trust me, there are lots of kids who think you’re cute. You can go out with any of them. Like Michelle or Ned. Even Abe, he’s really sweet.”

“Abe’s fourteen,” Peter mumbled. Abe’s a kid. Peter can’t go out with him!

Liz steps back with a chuckle. “We could share a dance at Homecoming… if you’d like. But yeah. There’s nothing wrong with going alone.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. She nods, walking past him towards the gym. 

Peter’s head is bowed and he can feel tears tickling his eyes. This hurts. It hurts way more than he could have imagined. He didn’t even think he’d ever ask her out. What the hell possessed him to do that?!

Maybe, in another dimension, Liz would have said yes. And they’d have gone together and danced and sang and Peter could have kissed her on the cheek.

It would have been perfect.

He hits rock bottom again and this time, he just sits there, staring blankly at the homework assignments clamoring for his attention.

He doesn’t want to go to Homecoming.

Peter has literally one acceptable suit that he wore for Freshman Prom. The only other suit he has is the one he bought for Ben’s funeral which is totally not okay. He never wants to see that again.

May knows something’s up. Peter was down after Mr. Stark gave him the boot, but he’d managed to pick himself up after a week, trying his best at school, not losing any more backpacks, pitching in to help in the kitchen, submitting homework on time, answering questions in class, bringing up topics to talk about during meals with May…

And now, he’s down again.

An hour before Homecoming, Ned calls him.

“Are you sure?” he says. “Because a bunch of us from AcaDec are going together. Michelle says ticket prices are cheaper for couples and groups.”

“I’m sure, Ned,” Peter says, dolefully. He threading his fingers over the old goggles he used to wear over his first homemade Spider-Man suit.

“It won’t be any fun without you!” Ned whines.

“I’ll be a downer the whole time,” Peter sighs. “You don’t want me there, Ned. Really.”

“I do, actually,” Ned corrects him. “May can drop you off, maybe? Even if it’s just for an hour, we can all have lots of fun!”

Peter knows May would be ecstatic to see him go. But he doesn’t feel like getting out of bed. He’s going to sink through the mattress and feel the cold, hard rocks below.

“Sorry, Ned,” he mumbles. “I think it’s best if I just stay here. I mean, I’m grounded for a long while.”

“I don’t think the principal said you were suspended from Homecoming,” Ned says. “Look, things went bad. I’m really sorry. If you ask me, Mr. Stark should have at least told you that he was looking out for the Vulture creep. That’s on him, right?”

Peter thinks of the incredible Spider-suit that was taken away because he hadn’t followed orders to stay back. 

“He kinda did say it,” Peter finally tells. “Liz’s party, remember? I fell in the lake?”

“He told you?”

“Yeah. Said that people were managing it…” Peter throws an arm over his eyes. He thinks back to that conversation with him perched on a jungle gym, soaking wet. 

The Ironman suit had been hovering in front of him, empty. Mr. Stark was driving somewhere else in the world, having said that there were people who handle these things, below the Avengers’ pay-grade, but far above Peter’s league.

Yeah, Peter recalls that subtext very clearly.

“I’ll see you on Monday, Ned,” Peter says, his voice throaty. 

“Aw, Pete.”

“Sorry.”

He ends the call, barely able to believe it all. Liz’s rejection was a sucker punch in the same gaping wound Mr. Stark had left. 

Chapter Text

May knocks on the door.

Peter ignores her. He’s still curled on his side, under the comforter. He wishes he had a weighted blanket. He wants something heavy and soft on top of him.

“Peter?” May calls softly. “I’m coming in.”

She expects him to not answer. He stares at the wall, eyes burning and tears slipping sideways, past the corner of his eyes into his hair. He hears her footsteps on the tiled floor.

“Oh, baby,” she whispers. 

Peter screws his eyes shut, unable to stifle the sob that presses out.

May sits down, her hand careful, but firm on his shoulder. “Are you feeling sick?”

Not sick sick. But he can’t seem to move or get up.

“Bad day, huh?” May says. She sounds like she knows what’s plaguing him; about everything that’s bothered him since day one.

But not everything. Peter’s lied to her so much, held things close to his chest for months. If she knew, would she hate him? Be shocked? Throw him out?

No, May loves him. She wouldn’t leave him, right?

"Do you think I'm just a kid?"

That isn't the question he meant to ask, but it's what comes out. Her thumb presses into the meaty part of his shoulder. The base of her palm is warm and solid.

"Not just a kid," she says slowly. "But a pretty great one."

Peter exhales. "You're not the only person who thinks I'm not mature enough."

May leans closer to him, hooking her chin over his head. His back is now warm and he feels cozy. She's the best-weighted blanket.

"Nobody's born mature, Petey," she tells him. "We need to be childish before having to grow into stiff adults."

"May!" Peter complains.

"I'm being serious," she chides him. “You were doing so well this week. Opening up to me, participating in class… what happened today?”

He droops back onto the mattress. “Nothing!”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Peter shrugs. “I asked Liz out. She doesn’t like me like that, though. Thinks I’m a kid.”

He tries to say it casually, but his voice cracks on the last word.

In his peripheral vision, he sees her nod. “Was she mean about it?”

“No.”

“Okay. This was the first time, right?”

“That I got turned down?” he says, dejected.

“That you ever asked someone out.”

“Same thing. Yeah.”

May squeezes his shoulder. “Not the same thing. That was a brave move, Peter. I’m really proud of you.”

He makes a face. “But she didn’t want to go with me. I didn’t do it right.”

“Were you pushy?”

“No! I mean… I don’t think so.”

“Good,” May decides. “You asked her out, properly. And Liz felt comfortable enough to say no.”

“But…”

“But?” May asks.

Peter pokes at the pillow. “I told you. She thinks I’m a kid.”

“To her, you are. And there’s nothing wrong with being a kid. Kids can be the best thing in the world,” May says, jokingly squeezing him.

Peter’s face makes an unconscious smile, but he tries to hold on to the desolation in him.

“Not always,” he argues. “Not everyone thinks being a kid is good.”

May tilts her head. “Are we talking about Liz or…?”

He blushes. He walked right into that.

"Mr. Stark didn't think I could do some jobs," Peter finally mutters. "He said that everyone else thought he was crazy to recruit me."

May pauses. He wonders if he'd said too much, but she just wraps him in her arms.

"That's his problem."

… what? Peter frowns up at the wall, confusion edging through the anguish.

May weaves her fingers through his hair. "He approached us, honey. He wanted you in his company. You're not just an asset, you're an incredible little beacon who's gonna grow brighter with every year. He saw that. Whatever you did there went above and beyond what Stark expected. Trust me, that's what everyone goes through with you in their lives."

Peter shakes his head. "But I messed up."

"Did someone get hurt?"

Her question nearly sends him spiraling. Yeah, a whole ferry full of people was traumatized by the fear of drowning. That definitely counts.

"Yes," he mumbles.

The weight of May's chin disappears from him. 

"Lab accident," Peter says hastily. "They got patched up quickly."

May doesn’t say anything for a while. Peter’s shoulders are practically touching his earlobes.

“Do they know it was you?”

He breathes out, “No. Mr. Stark kept it out of the record.”

“Alright,” May says slowly. “Do you know how to get in touch with them?”

Peter’s confused now. He turns over onto his back to look up at her. “Huh?”

“The people who got hurt,” May says patiently. “Do you have their numbers or email addresses?”

“No… I mean, it would have been there in my Stark account, but I don’t have that now.”

May nods. “Okay. Where you able to find out if they’re fine now?”

“I think they are,” he says, thinking desperately. Mr. Stark had said that everyone was fine (no thanks to Peter).

May sits up, her hand still holding his shoulder. She doesn’t seem mad.

“What were you doing that was so dangerous?” she whispers.

Peter closes his eyes for a minute. Then, the lie spills out.

He tells her about a new-fangled experimental product in its testing phase that one of the engineers had invited Peter to see. The team had run into trouble and Peter thought he could fix it. He’d been wrong. The circuitry wasn’t connected well and the wires combusted. Minor hearing damage along with soaked personnel and papers were the extent of the issue. It took a solid twenty minutes for people to disable the water sprinklers and the fire alarm.

Since the experiment had been pretty high-profile, the engineer-in-charge had been suspended and the intern responsible was fired.

Peter’s chest is tight as he tells his aunt this story.

May listens closely, her forehead creased in concern. Her hand starts rubbing his upper arm but Peter doesn’t feel comforted.

He doesn’t want to lie to her. But being Spider-Man is a treasured role he needs. Mr. Stark already took that away from him, Peter won’t bear it if Aunt May did the same.

“You weren’t supposed to be there?” May finally says. “In that room with the experiment?”

Peter nods into his pillow. “Yeah. I mean… I got excited by the concept. But there’s so much more to it and I guess, I shouldn’t have tried to fix it there. They have a process to address issues and I didn’t do it the right way.”

May exhales. She leans closer and places her chin over his head again. Peter relaxes by a fraction.

“Do you want to write to the engineer?” May asks.

“The… engineer?”

“The one who brought you into the room and got suspended.”

“Oh. To apologize?”

May shrugs. “It would be a good start. Technically, this person is in the wrong for bringing you to a department you weren’t a part of. Maybe apologize isn’t the wholly correct word. You could explain your side of the story, find out if this engineer is back at work and if things are going well. A good closing note. The person’s last memory of you shouldn’t be a dangerous situation. Leave good terms if you can help it.”

Peter thinks it over. 

There really is no engineer to write to. Happy isn’t suspended over Peter’s mistake. He’d be busy helping move things out of Stark tower since the building is being sold. He has other assets to manage now that Peter’s out.

But could Peter do something about the people who were hurt?

“If I wanted to write to the... employees who got hurt,” he says slowly. “What should I say?”

May hums. Without knowing it, the tension is slowly leaving Peter’s body.

“Let them know that you hadn’t meant the harm. Ask them if they’re alright, but don’t be pushy. If they don’t reply, don’t take it too personally. A work accident is nothing to scoff at. And from what it sounds, it could have been a lot worse, that’s why the punishment is so severe.”

Peter shudders. May doesn’t know how close she is to the answer. It could have been a lot worse. There had been hundreds of people on the ferry. They could have drowned even with the safety rafts on board.

What had he been thinking?

There had been so many civilians on the ferry. How could Peter just attack the smugglers in broad daylight in such a public place? None of the people could even run away from the situation when it got hairy.

Adrenaline had replaced common sense. He’d been so giddy to catch the thieves, to catch the Vulture and earn Mr. Stark’s praise, that Peter had completely forgotten why he’d chosen to wear the mask in the first place.

Spider-Man isn’t about running into the fight for the glamor and praise.

May kisses Peter’s temple. “Things went wrong. People got hurt. And you understood that you overstepped. This isn’t irreversible. You can still try things to make up for it.”

Peter scrunches up the comforter in his fists. “Even when it feels impossible?”

“Especially when it feels impossible,” she points out. “These are the things we start to learn when we’re kids. You’ll get this lesson over and over again when you’re older too.”

Peter doesn’t like the sound of that. Growing up sounds like a lot of work. But he gets what she’s trying to say.

She presses her cheek to the side of his head. “You know what to do?”

He swallows down the lump in his throat. “Yeah. Thanks, May.”

“Good kid,” she says with a smile in her voice. His heart grows light. “Come on, I got the tacos cooked just right.”

“We’re not ordering in?”

“Shocking, I know.”

He isn’t ready to wear the mask yet. So he goes out as Peter, with a rough idea in mind.

“So,” Ned says. “Why exactly are we standing outside Whitehall Terminal?”

When Peter had thought of making amends, Ned was quick to volunteer himself. The reason they are here now, is still hazy. 

Peter sighs. “The Staten Island Ferry is reopening today. We’re gonna get on it.”

Ned blinks. “And?”

“I dunno. Talk to people?”

“Why?”

“Cause,” Peter stammers. “ ‘Cause of what happened last week! Did you forget?”

Ned is still confused. “You wanna find the Vulture’s gang?”

“No,” Peter says, bouncing on the spot. “I… don’t know. But no, not the Vulture or anything Spidey-related. Just… I dunno.”

“Right,” Ned is still not convinced. “Because, they probably won’t be here now. If it was a meeting point for their smuggling ring, they won’t be found here again.”

Sounds about right. But Peter isn’t here for the Vulture.

NYC has many water transit trips around the boroughs. A new ferry is scheduled to begin its tour today after a week’s break. Peter checked the media around the news. Each water route has multiple boats used one at a time. Since this ferry trip is free, things are a little slow. But the fact that they (government, Avengers, SHIELD, whoever) managed to outfit the rest of the boats with added amenities to stave off an attack, so quickly is still surprising.

It’s a bright morning.

The crowd waiting to board the boat is a little nervous. Ned looks up at the bright orange, shiny boat and lets out a sigh.

“I guess people are a little scared,” he tells Peter. “I saw pictures of what happened to the ferry. It was gnarly, let me tell you!”

A little kid beside them overhears what Ned says. She tugs on her mother’s pants and says, “Mommy, is the boat gonna splode?”

The people around them are gently agitated. Peter gulps before inhaling a robust amount of air and telling Ned loudly, “Wow! I can’t wait to get on it!”

Ned shoots him a curious look. “Er… what?”

“They’ve added twelve rafts to this one,” Peter continuous in the same volume. “And the engine’s brand new! I bet we’ll reach Staten Island in 15 minutes!”

Ned seems to get what he’s trying to do. “Oh, come on, Pete! I wanna enjoy the view. I bet it’ll take 30 minutes.”

“How much?”

“Your He-Man collection and the first Dual Layer Burst.”

Peter gasps. “You stay away from my beyblades! I just started that this year!”

He and Ned continue their parley while the crowd around them relax. The little girl listens to the conversation with great interest.

The boat docks at the edge and the line begins to move. Peter and Ned keep up the moral, managing to get giggles out of the girl. 

People fill the rows of seats with a little unease. Peter and Ned take one of the first benches. If Ned is nervous he doesn’t give it away. Many other passengers are laser-focused on the additional rafts attached to the new ferry.

The intercom is switched on and a croaky female voice comes online.

“Good evening, passengers. This is your captain speaking,” she says, warmly.

“Following the incident last week, we’ve added a host of extra utilities and supports to every boat that goes on the water. In the interest of maintaining a safe and speedy trip, I assure you that the crew are on patrol to safeguard all your belongings, vehicles, and cargo, at all times. We hope you enjoy this short trip to Staten Island and are eager to begin the maiden voyage of this boat now.”

Peter whoops when the captain’s address is done. The little girl giggles.

“15 minutes,” Peter says.

“Nuh uh!” Ned counters. “Thirty!”

“Two hours!” the girl shrieks. Some of the passengers laugh and the boat sets off.

It’s a little quiet at first. 

Peter and Ned keep talking in random spurts, chatting about the marketing of the Beyblade Burst series, the new keychain of R2D2 and C3PO they want to purchase, and if they can see up the Statue of Liberty’s nose.

Soon, other people begin to talk as well. Phones ring, chocolate wrappers crinkle, laughter echoes, and the water splashes against the side of the ferry, its foam quietly distracting. 

Peter tries not to think of water flooding into the boat and washing cars away. There are no purple sparks, no Chitauri weapons, no villains, and no Spider-Man.

He looks around and wonders how many others were on the ferry that day. How many people here have no other choice but to take the ferry to commute between the boroughs? How did they travel over the past week when the ferry service was done?

The boat is filled with people trying to conquer their fears and go back to their regular lives.

“You okay?” Ned whispers as they dock at Staten Island in record time.

Peter shakes the jitters away. “I think so. I needed that.”

“That was nice,” Ned says, looking at the people filing out of the boat. The next crowd waiting to board are looking at the ferry dubiously.

Peter nudges Ned’s side and says out loud. “That was swell! And the boat went faster than usual, nah? I said so, didn’t I?”

“Bull!” Ned complains, trying not to smile as some of the crowd around them chuckle. “You said 15 minutes. I checked the time. It was more than 22.”

“You said 30, though,” Peter disagrees imperiously. “I was closer!”

“By a minute!”

They exit the ferry still chattering. Some walk faster than others, in great haste to escape the boat. Some walk on light feet, feeling good that they’ve conquered the trip.

“So…” Ned says as they leave the terminal. “Feel better?”

Peter exhales. “Not sure. Thanks for coming, though. You didn’t have to.”

Ned grins. “I’m getting a beyblade out of it, aren’t I?”

“Nope.”

“Come on, Pete!”

Chapter Text

“Mr. Delmar’s store is going to reopen in two months,” Peter tells Ned.

“Is this part of your amends strategy?”

They take their time walking from school. Peter’s lighter now, feeling more like himself now that he isn’t Spider-Man. 

“Sort of,” Peter says, thoughtfully. “I mean… it’s not a strategy… it’s not like I have a 33-step plan.”

Ned eyes him. “Why do I get the feeling you did make a plan with a lot of steps?”

Peter grins. “It’s easier when I write them down. And don’t you wanna see Murph?”

Ned acquiesces. They cross the streets just as Peter’s phone buzzes.

Unhappy calling

Peter grimaces. It’s been nearly a week since Happy’s been trying to reach him. Peter feels a little put off every time he sees the caller ID, but knows that it’s for the best that he doesn’t pick up the call. He’s sent one message a while back asking Happy to lay off of him. 

He doesn’t mean to be rude or anything. He just doesn’t want to be involved with Happy or Mr. Stark again. He gets it. It’s a whole other world with real superheroes. Peter’s still in school, trying to work up the courage to put on his old suit and start patrolling as Spider-Man again.

Swiping the red icon, Peter goes on with his day. Ned and he reach the deli in good spirits. 

Murph loves Ned’s scritches. The cat purrs extra-long, turning around to show Ned his fluffy belly. Mr. Delmar is directing one of his nephews to stack up the back room while Peter looks around the rebuilt store. None of the supplies is on the shelves yet.

“Got a new oven!” Mr. Delmar says, eyes gleaming.

“Yeah? So you’re gonna have the deli operational soon?” Peter asks, mouth-watering at the thought of one of his signature sandwiches. 

“I’m waiting for Hanukkah,” Mr. Delmar admits. “I get the best customers around that time. It’s gonna take some time to get the utilities fully up and running. Latest by January. You miss the pickles, don’t ya?”

“Guilty,” Peter grins, scratching the back of Murph’s head. The cat is very pleased. “But with Murph’s good luck, I think a Hanukkah opening is the best.”

“I’ll save you and Ned a table then,” Mr. Delmar laughs as Ned whoops. 

“Sure,” Peter says, not missing a beat, spirits soaring. “On the house?”

“Beat it, kid!”

Peter and Ned rush out of the store giggling.

“I miss Mr. Delmar,” Ned says after they reach a block away. “I gotta visit more. D’you think he got compensated for the renovation?”

That’s a tricky answer. “I hope so. I mean, alien weaponry is covered by different insurance I think, but May says people did help him out to get all the debris cleaned up.”

“Damage Control?” Ned whispers.

“Oh… I guess so. But still, if he got a new oven, maybe he got some payment too?” Peter hedges. His phone rings. 

“I hope so,” Ned agrees. 

Peter reads Happy’s ID on his cracked screen, swipes red again, and looks up. Ned frowns. “Who’s been calling you?”

He shrugs and stands on his tiptoes to get a good look at the new oven. “Telemarketers. I remember their numbers.”

Ned gives a slow nod, not looking completely convinced. Still, he doesn’t push it and Peter revels in the silence before they leave. 

He’s surrounded by people who care. May says exactly what he needs to hear. Ned is by his side through thick and thin. His teachers give him the benefit of the doubt and are encouraged by his assignments again. It’s all good now.

He’s walking home from school alone one evening when the hairs on his arms prickle. Peter feels goosebumps arise despite the warm breeze of the city.

And then a shiny black Audi pulls up beside him. The engine purrs distinctly and he recognizes its style from a few months ago. He stops on the pavement and watches Happy roll down the window.

The man is haggard, smelling of perspiration freshly wiped away. His eyes are tight and he says, “Get in, kid.”

He swallows. “Um… I don’t think—”

“Peter,” Happy says, and hearing the man’s heart stutter makes Peter cautiously wonder what’s going on. “Please. Get in the car.”

The door clicks and Peter’s shoulders drop as he relents. He has no clue what’s going on. It couldn’t be anything he’s done, right? No one died on the ferry, everyone was okay. Mr. Stark had promised that. Peter hasn’t done anything Spidey-related in the past 10 days. He’s been in school, catching up to all Peter-related work and life.

He opens the door and feels the air in his lungs go frigid.

Mr. Stark is sitting in the back seat, engrossed in his phone. The downward tilt of his lips makes Peter’s heart rate spike.

“Mister Parker,” he says, looking over his dark sunglasses. “Take a seat.”

Cold sweat gathers over his neck, but Peter does as he is told. The leather seats are clammy and stick to his palms. Or maybe that’s just him.

“Log into the network,” Mr. Stark says, handing his phone over to him. Peter fumbles with it, gawking at the device. It’s a glass pane bordered with tough black polymer. The glass projects a hologram for him to interact with it in 3D space.

Peter pokes at the blue pixeled light.

“Wait, what network?” he asks, glancing up.

“The AI from your suit,” Mr. Stark answers. The car starts up and Happy drives them, still on route to May’s apartment.

“Karen?” he says in surprise. “Um… can I ask why?”

Mr. Stark’s jaw muscle twitches like he’s holding back from snapping. Peter ducks his head and quickly speaks into the phone, “Karen, hello?”

The phone screen glows brighter and her smooth voice speaks out, “Hello, Peter.”

“Ask her to share access to all her footage,” Mr. Stark says.

Peter gulps again thinking of his lame impressions and pitiful attempts at detective work. “But… all of it?”

“Parker, this is actually important,” he snaps and Peter ducks his head again. “Your AI’s been refusing to cooperate with me for days. I could have overridden her commands and reset her to factory mode, but that risked the footage from your patrols.”

“But why?” Peter asks, desperate. “I didn’t do anything else! I just tried to find the Vulture and his guys. I didn’t toe any other line.”

Mr. Stark presses his fingers over the bridge of his nose. Peter looks upfront to see Happy stare right ahead.

“What happened?” he wonders.

“The preying bird happened,” Mr. Stark murmurs. “We need to track him down right away but he’s avoided the DODC for years now and there’s no scent of him anywhere on our databases. The only place I haven’t searched is the bottom of my swear jar and your suit’s AI. She’s been very taciturn and insisted on receiving your word to allow access.”

Peter’s jaw drops. “Why wouldn’t she allow—”

“Because of your little didildy-pidildy with the suit wires, I assume,” Mr. Stark retorts. “Lordy, it’s been a rough week, okay, kid? We need that footage. If Karen’s got any facial recognition or ID match, we won’t have to go back to the drawing board. Tell her to share footage access.”

More than the man’s ire, more than Happy’s sullen silence, Peter has a growing sobering sensation that something is truly wrong. Why else would an Avenger be involved in something that’s supposedly below their paygrade?

“What happened?” he whispers.

“It’s no longer your concern, just tell the AI—”

“No,” Peter says, partially stunned by his own abrasiveness. “You said you got the Vulture handled. The FBI was on them. You said this wasn’t Avenger-level. Why are you on this case?”

“Peter,” Happy warns. “Just share the footage. We need to get started on identifying him immediately.”

Stubbornness rears an ugly head. Peter tells the two men, “I’ve seen his face. So, yeah. Karen has that on record. But tell me, what happened? What did he do?”

Mr. Stark tilts his head away from him. He takes off the glasses and looks him in the eye. Peter has the urge to apologize immediately but holds it back along with the saliva that builds in his mouth.

“He stole my egg basket,” Mr. Stark says, unimpressed. “It’s unacceptable. If I don’t have my eggs and coffee in the morning, I’m cranky all day.”

“He took something from you? Not from Damage Control?”

“Share the access, Parker.”

“You said you had it covered,” Peter stresses. “You said—”

“I say a lot of things!” Stark barks at him louder now. “And yes, apparently, the FBI lost track of the gang because a spider messed things up in their investigation!”

“He stole your weapons?” Peter asks, growing dizzy now. “Like… like arc reactor tech? Guns and missiles?”

Happy’s little exhale and the jump in his pulse alerted Peter. That’s right. Happy had been busy with packing things up at Stark Tower to move everything upstate. 

The whole tower. All the weapons from the multiple labs could number in the thousands.

“How much did he take?” Peter whispers, not daring to believe this. He’d failed. They’d failed. The Vulture got what he wanted. If it wasn’t alien tech, Stark tech would be the next best thing.

Stark sighs. He puts his glasses back on and answers, “My jet was supposed to make the trip in less than an hour. Never made it back from school. You can’t really put out an amber alert for these kinds of things.”

Peter clenches a fist beside his leg.

“That’s not funny.”

Stark nods. “It sure isn’t. That’s why we need the footage. You saw his face. That’s great. We’ll catch him by tonight, get his whole gang—”

“Can you get all the weapons back?”

Happy meets Peter’s gaze in the rearview mirror but stays quiet. If Stark notices the steel in Peter’s voice he doesn’t comment on it. “We’ll get a city-sized brush made for Jack and his Giant and get them to comb through the streets—”

“Just say it without the bad jokes!” Peter bursts, hands shaking. “This isn’t funny! Stop saying things like that!”

Stark raises his eyebrows.

“You’re gonna be like that?” he says quietly. “Like you know exactly what to do?”

Peter has the urge to jump out of the car doing a hundred twenty on the highway… 

Wait.

He looks outside and stares at the sight of the city becoming smaller in the distance. Heart pounding, he whips his head towards Happy. “Where are we going?!”

“Upstate,” Stark answered, still frowning. “Parker, this is important—”

“Upstate?!” Peter cries. “Like… ‘upstate’ upstate?”

His breathing is shallow and fast. The phone slips from his shaking hands. 

It has to be worse than what Stark’s saying. Whatever tech the Vulture got his hands on is out there in the wrong hands now. Every gun, every projectile out there could end a life and derail families, destabilize communities that rely on each other.

Peter thinks of the last bullet that sent his and May’s life reeling. 

I’m going to throw up.

Peter makes an abortive gesture, his chest lurching forward. Stark gawks at him and urgently says, “Nuh-uh, not in the car, José. Those seats just got the shampoo treatment!”

“Oh for—” Happy mutters, pulling over to the side. The car slows down and Peter grabs onto the seat in front of him, struggling with the door. He pushes the door open, completely out of sorts. The fresh air does little to soothe him. The bile is out before he can regroup his thoughts and all he can focus on right now is getting rid of the taste from his mouth.

They’d failed. 

It’s hard to catch his breath. Ears ringing badly, Peter falls on all four. Tears burn forward from the back of his eyes and he’s sick twice over before the world comes back to him.

The news would show it soon. More fatal muggings, store robberies, bank shootouts with high tech weaponry. More admissions in the hospitals, fresh flowers in cemeteries, fewer people coming home. The influx of overpowered tech in the wrong hands would hit everyone at the roots. 

Peter’s forgotten what Spider-Man is supposed to be about. He’s just been reminded of it.

“We got some water in the trunk?” Stark’s voice appears to his left. Happy answers in the negative, “Why would we… no, of course not! It’s in the front. Kid, here you go.”

Peter hugs the bottle to his chest, just letting himself breathe.

“Phone,” he whispers. Happy hesitates but Stark pushes the device into his clammy palm. Peter tells Karen, “Share all footage with Stark. Find all the weapons that were stolen.”

“Confirmed,” Karen responded sweetly. “Transferring data to Stark network now.”

He pushes the phone back to Stark and looks up at Happy. “Take me home, please.”

“Wait a sec,” Stark says.

“No. I wanna go home now.”

“Kid—”

“I’ll scream,” Peter warns, eyes still running. “Everyone’ll think you’re kidnapping me.”

Happy is taken aback but Stark only doubles down. “Look, the compound is where all the sweet tech’s at. You’ll love it. We can work on this together if you wanna help.”

Peter gulps half the bottle down to stop himself from just bursting into tears. Get it together, man!

“Need to go home!” he gasps.

“Parker, once we get a face match, it’s over for him,” Stark says like that solves everything. “Yeah, it’s going to be a beast to get back all the tech, we’ll have a plan made for it—”

“Can you get back every piece of weaponry?” Peter gasps, straightening up to meet Stark in the eye. “Can you find every glowy thing, every pocket nuke?”

“We keep our heads clear and our eyes on the prize, then yeah, absolutely,” Stark confirms savagely. “Don’t think I haven’t come at this situation from every angle.”

“Can you get back every bullet you lost?” Percy asks, shoving the bottle back into his hands. “Even if they’ve been used? Because they’re out there and it’s too late. You just get to sit upstate and worry about numbers on a screen. We, everyone down here, we’re the ones who deal with the stray bullets. You can find every last piece of metal but some of them are already stained.”

Stark doesn’t say anything but stares at Peter coldly. Happy is pale, turning away from the confrontation. Blood rushing in his body, Peter doesn’t back down now.

“You think I don’t care?” Stark asks quietly.

“I think you don’t understand,” Peter corrects him. “And you never will. You can care and worry all you want, but you’ll never understand what it means to die and keep breathing anyway because you turned your back on something you could have avoided so easily.”

“Watch the tone, kid,” Stark hisses. “You do not get to tell me what I think.”

Peter clenches his jaw. “You don’t get to tell me that you’ll fix this mess. Even if you invent a way to shove all the toothpaste back into its tube, your hands are still gonna be sticky.”

Stark leans back, his forehead crumpling. “Jeez, that’s the best metaphor you got?”

The tension isn’t gone completely, but Peter knows better than to stoke the flames. He steps back.

“Now you know how everyone feels when you talk at them,” he shrugs.

He makes his choice, turns around and walks back toward the city.

“That’s it!” Stark calls in disbelief. “You’re going to run away?”

Peter shakes his head but doesn’t answer. His mind is clear even though his body is aching. His throat burns from the bile. He still has his old suit in the school. Not a tricked-out one, but it does the job; the job being to hide his identity.

The next day after school, Peter finishes his homework, kisses May on the temple, and climbs out the window.

Adrian Toomes is arrested. Liz is devastated. But Spider-Man’s focus is back on the city and its people. From walking people home at night to rescuing people trapped in fires, to stopping muggings as much as possible, to teaching kids to look both ways before crossing the street, he can’t let anything too small slide by.

At least, Peter figures, it would take a lot more to shake his focus next time around.