Chapter Text
New York is a tempestuous, capricious mistress. Ask anyone who lives there and they’ll tell you as much: take a bite of the Big Apple, and the Big Apple bites back, hard, leaves you insomniac and insatiable. Stay there long enough, live there long enough, and the city sinks her claws into you, and you’ll always bear her mark even when you leave, in your voice and your walk and your eyes. And you’ll want to bear her mark. You’ll be proud to.
They call the city her—those who love it best, those the city loves best. Captain America, the first one, gave his first life for her and for that, she has never forgotten him. Bucky Barnes remembers her in snapshots and faded files, and trails metal fingers over changed streets and thinks home, home, home. The Defenders make their nests in different neighborhoods, but the city hasn’t forgotten them either. Tony Stark’s name is written over her walls in thanks, thank you for protecting us and there is a place for you here always, and one day he knows he will come back. Stephen Strange’s magic has seeped into the concrete foundations of his home, and the city welcomes his protections.
And then there’s Peter.
Little Peter Parker, the spider, the vigilante. He looks out for the downtrodden and the invisible of the city, takes little old ladies across the streets and eats churros with middle-aged vendors, lives and breathes New York. He loves her, this boy, loves this city helplessly, knows her best spots and the lines of her skyscrapers by heart.
And the city loves him back. The population adores him.
New York is a capricious mistress, will clog your lungs up with smoke and kill you before you’ve hit forty if you’re really unlucky. New York will not open its traffic lanes to your car, will simply let you be another angry motorist in the midst of a traffic jam. New York likes to play favorites and it’s not always a good thing be her favorite.
But if there’s one good thing to be said about it, it’s that New York protects her own.
--
the flash | got s8 spoilers @spideysno1fan
@JJJameson is a journalistic HACK who can’t even verify a source to save his life! #IStandWithSpiderMan
Kiki Is A Lesbian @hijabidragon
#IStandWithSpiderMan because he watched over me while I prayed in an alley and held an umbrella over my head when it rained. that’s not someone who massacres people. that’s someone who loves them.
--
The problem with going out to buy groceries in New York with a freshly-outed superhero nephew, May thinks, is that sometimes you spill the eggs and they break on the pavement.
Also, sometimes a very angry thug points a gun at you. That too.
“Little buggy bastard’s fucked up my gang enough,” the guy’s snarling, as he marches May down the alleyway towards an unmarked white van. Every time she slows down, or her hands start to drop, he presses the gun to her skull and spits something about blowing her brains out if she doesn’t get a move on. She can’t count on Peter to come get her. Not right now. “I’m gonna keep you for leverage—he tries anything against me and my crew, I’ll start cutting bits off you. Start with your little toes, maybe.”
May—is scared, she is, but she can’t find it in herself to cry. She already cried when the news blared, now she’s just trying to float along. Peter’s fine. Peter’s okay. Peter has to be safe, right now, because to think otherwise would shatter her.
Instead she says, “Listen—”
“Shut up!” the man all but howls, pushing her towards the back doors of the van. They open wide, like some great cavernous mouth, like that worm from those movies Peter likes to watch, and she sees more guys in black ski masks, with ropes and fabric and dark, angry glares. “Shut the fuck up! Get in the damn van or I swear to god—”
And that is when the lights blow out.
It’s full daylight, so May has just enough time to wonder what the fuck was that supposed to do before a woman in a leather jacket slams her fist into the man’s face. The gun goes wide, spins off into the road, and the woman’s pushing May behind her, shoving her behind a trash can.
And then the Devil himself shows up.
“Holy shit,” whispers May, eyes wide as Daredevil bulls out of a nearby alleyway, dodging bullets as he gracefully leaps into the back of the van and shuts the door. She hears muffled screaming, the sound of gunshots, the panicked shouts of did you get him did you get him Jesus fucking Christ stay down stay down please god stay DOWN—
Another woman, this one in camo with a blue domino mask, is scurrying down a fire escape like a cat.
“May Parker?” says the woman in the leather jacket.
May blinks at her. “Y-Yeah,” she says.
“I’m Jessica Jones,” says the woman, just as her friend Blue Domino Mask leaps off the railing and lands on her feet, light as a feather. “The show-off there is Trish Walker. You know, I really want to be your friend—”
Patsy Walker shakes her head and says, “Jess, how many times, when I’m dressed like this it’s Hellcat. And don’t sing the song.” She steps closer to May, and for someone who had been convicted of both murder and attempted murder, Patsy’s hands are gentle as Jessica more or less dumps May onto her. “Hi,” says Patsy. “Where’s the safest place we can take you?”
“My—My apartment,” says May, still reeling as Patsy hauls her to her feet, then helps her up the ladder. “Or my office.”
“Neither’s safe,” says Jessica, bluntly. She crouches down and then jumps, far higher than a non-enhanced human could, and catches the edge of a railing higher up from them. She hauls herself up with ease. “Trish, can you stash her in your apartment? Once Choir-Boy’s done beating the shit out of these thugs, we need to go talk to Spider-Boy.”
“Spider-Man,” May corrects.
“Isn’t he like, ten,” says Jessica.
“I can stash her in my apartment for a while, yeah,” says Patsy Walker, known as Trish. “But then we still need to find her nephew.”
Barbed wire wraps tight around May’s heart. “You won’t find him,” she says, “he’s—he’s gone to ground.”
“Where’s he gone to ground?” Jessica asks, brusquely.
“Jess,” says Trish.
“What? We gotta find him so Nelson can talk to him!”
“I—I don’t know,” says May, chewing on her lip. “My apartment’s out of the question, that’s, god, that’s probably swarming with reporters by now. My office too. He could’ve gone upstate to Stark’s, or to the tower, but I don’t know.” And she hates that she doesn’t know, because she’s his aunt, she’s the closest thing he has to a parent, she should know. But he’d been so insistent that she be able to have some plausible deniability (just in case, May, just in case) that she’d given in.
Well. At least that plausible deniability’s coming in handy now, she supposes.
“Shit, dammit, fuck,” Jessica’s muttering, running her hands through her hair and pacing around the rooftop. “Shit. Fuck. Fuck this shit.” She pauses, then turns in some direction and hollers, “And fuck J. Jonah Jameson too while we’re at it! Fucking shit-ass sensationalist crap journalism—”
“Jess,” Trish says.
“I’m gonna go check on Horny,” Jessica says. “Take her to your apartment, and call Nelson on the burner phone. He’s got friends in Stark Industries, right?”
“He has clients in Stark Industries,” Trish corrects.
“Yeah, yeah,” says Jessica, waving a hand. “May? Once Trish gets you to her apartment, do not make any calls or take a single step outside it. It’s a steel fortress, but it’ll only work as long as you don’t draw a single mote of attention to yourself.” She points at Trish, and says, “You’re babysitting. Don’t let her step outside until Nelson’s talked to Bug-Boy and given the all-clear.”
“Hey,” says May, but it’s too late, because Jessica’s jumped off the rooftop already. She hears an almighty crash, and a loud curse. Gunfire roars from below them.
“Come on,” says Trish, taking her hand. “My car’s two streets away, and I memorized the rooftop route there.”
--
NED:
MJ you okay??
do u have any idea where Peter’s gone??
MJ:
yeah
he’s with me right now
hold on just a sec
NED!!!
THANK GOD r u ok
NED:
I’m ok!!!
Flash is freaking out btw
this would be way funnier if it wasn’t for you know what
Wait what about you where are you
MJ:
I can’t tell you
and neither can MJ before you ask
just call May please and tell her I’m safe but I can’t talk to her right now
I’m sorry I’m so sorry I didn’t know this would happen
NED:
ok hold on no it’s ok
shit sucks! but I get it, plausible deniability and all
there’s like twenty reporters who tried to jump me
Brad’s practically the tabloid darling, btw, but everyone else in the class doesn’t believe the video
MJ:
MJ says she needs a shower now
NED:
Same Hat
but listen other than Brad nobody blames you and I definitely don’t
MJ:
be careful, okay?
NED:
you too Pete
MJ:
This is MJ - I’m gonna make Peter be careful
but you stay safe okay Ned?
Friends Of Spider-Man like us have to stick together
--
Not for the first time in his long, long acquaintance with superheroes, Foggy finds himself wanting to strangle Tony Stark.
Goddamn Tony and his goddamn need for privacy. The least he could do is leave a number that Foggy can reach without having to deal with an AI chirping, we’re sorry, but Mr. Stark can’t come to the phone right now, he’s doing awesome science, at him. And god-fucking-damn reporters swarming Stark Industries’ HQ, because there’s such a huge crowd in front of the tower that Foggy’s head kind of swims.
Matt makes a face, and says, “Y’know what?”
“Please tell me you know a backdoor,” says Foggy. “Please. Please. I so don’t want to go through that bloodbath right now.”
“I was going to say I could just swing us through a window,” says Matt. “I know someone in the legal department, we go out for coffee sometimes and bitch about being blipped. She won’t mind Daredevil and his boyfriend popping in when I give her a call.”
Foggy glances at his boyfriend, and says, “Wait, who’s this lady you told about being Daredevil? I thought Karen and I were special.”
“Wait till I tell you about the other vigilantes,” Matt says, teasing, and Foggy laughs. Then he sobers up, and says, “Really, it was more of an accident. Her name’s Jennifer Walters, and she’s smart as a whip. Caught me out in a lie and, well.”
“Why didn’t you try to cover your ass?” Foggy asks, as the two of them very casually and very briskly walk the hell away from the crowds. Matt’s hand is warm on his elbow. There had been a time when Foggy thought he’d never feel that warmth again, and now he basks in it, in the nearness of Matt.
Matt lets out a breath, his cane scraping across the pavement. “She thought I was being abused,” he says, softly. “Wouldn’t back down no matter what I told her, so I told her the truth instead.”
Foggy stops in place. “So you told her your biggest secret,” he says, slowly, “because you didn’t want her to think I was a bad person?”
“Well, yeah,” says Matt.
“Oh,” says Foggy, feeling a little flower of warmth bloom in the middle of his chest.
“Now come on,” says Matt, tugging on his arm. “Her office is on the twenty-second floor, and I know a way up.”
“Does this way up involve me hanging on to you like a terrified spider-monkey?” Foggy asks.
Matt coughs, says, lamely, “It might.”
--
Steve Rogers opens the window to his Brooklyn apartment, stares at the two teenagers who’ve just showed up on his fire escape, and says, resigned, “Let me guess. Tony sent you here.”
Peter nods. “He sent us coordinates for a safehouse,” he says. “Actually his exact words were the last place anyone would think to find you, and also hi? Mr. Captain America? Captain Rogers?”
“I’m retired,” says Steve.
“Semi-retired,” calls Bucky from the kitchen, poking his head out and squinting at the two teenagers. “Steve, what the fuck is Tony doing sending his protégé all the way here?”
“Is that Bucky Barnes?” the girl attached to Peter’s back yelps, her eyes wide. Her hair is windswept, and her eyes a little reddened from crying. Shit, that’s right. Peter’s secret is out there in the open now, Steve had caught the news chattering on about it right before Tony had texted that he was sending him a package to hold for a couple hours. Maybe days.
“We’re old hats at keeping the paps off our backs,” says Steve, “that’s why the kid’s here.”
“Oh, fuck’s sake,” says Bucky with a sigh. There’s the sound of the stove clicking off, and Bucky leans out of the kitchen, squinting at the two kids. “You two allergic to anything?”
“Uh,” says Peter.
“Peanuts,” says the girl, whose name Steve should really ask for, since Tony didn’t deign to give him and Bucky a hint about the nature of the package being sent their way.
“Nothing, really,” says Peter, after a moment. “But I gotta eat a lot more than anyone else. Because—superpowers.”
“You came to the right place,” says Bucky. “Cooking for this lunk’s like cooking for a small army.”
“Oh, haha, like you’re not half that army,” Steve gripes, as Bucky ducks back into the kitchen. Their apartment’s a cozy space meant for two adult men to live comfortably in, and it also offers multiple tactical advantages, like the ability to keep multiple possible exits and entrances in their line of sight at all times and the security system Tony rigged up for them. Nothing and no one is going to break into this apartment.
As soon as the kids are inside, Steve peeks out of the apartment, looking for anyone who might be trying to catch a glimpse of Spider-Man and his dame. Then he shuts the window and draws the curtains closed.
The girl flops down onto their couch, her arms crossed over her chest. “Holy shit,” she says, softly.
“Sorry, MJ,” says Peter, just as softly, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. He looks devastated. Steve can sympathize. “I’m so, so sorry you got dragged into this.”
“This is not your fault,” says the girl, whose name is MJ, apparently. She turns to him now and puts her hands on the sides of his face. “You listen to me: this is not your fucking fault. It’s that Mysterio fuckwit.”
“But you got caught up in this—”
“Do not pull that self-sacrificing hero bullshit with me,” says MJ. “Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be getting dragged into shit like this so soon, but you think I don’t know the risks of dating a superhero? I read Pepper Potts’ autobiography. I know.”
Peter bites his lower lip, as if he’s about to try for a rebuttal, and Steve coughs to get their attention.
“I’m going to call Tony and let him know you made it here,” he says. “What are your sizes?”
“What?” MJ asks.
“Clothes sizes,” says Steve. “So I can head out and get you two a change of clothes.”
“Oh,” says Peter, and gives his own size. MJ gives hers.
Steve goes into the bedroom and hauls out some blankets, a couple of pillows, and books. “To keep your mind off it,” he explains, draping the blankets over the two kids. And they really are just kids, so much younger than he and Bucky were when they went off to war. They shouldn’t be worrying about reporters and gangsters and murderers trying to ruin their reputations from beyond the grave. They should be worrying about homework and prom and social media and whatever else teenagers these days are occupied with. Steve doesn’t know much about this Quentin guy, but some tiny, angry little part of him is not happy the man is apparently dead—he wants to yank him in front of the news cameras and demand he tell the truth instead.
But he can do this. He and Bucky can look after a couple of kids for a few hours.
He steps into the kitchen, where Bucky’s pulling a sheet of cookies out from the oven with his metal hand. The pot on the stove is hissing from underneath the cover. “I’m gonna head out,” he says. “Get the kids some clothes. You gonna be okay?”
“Of course I’ll be fine,” says Bucky. “I’m gonna be too busy worrying about my damn wontons to panic too hard about the shitshow Stark’s kid is in.”
“He’s not—”
Bucky pins him with a look. Steve backs down, because he’s not wrong, Tony’s pretty protective towards the kid. He’d flown all the way to Europe when he’d heard Peter was in trouble, with just one arm and a repulsor glove.
“How’re your wontons?” he says, instead.
Bucky lifts the lid of the pot up. “Not done yet,” he says. “Now go, we’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone.”
--
STARS AND STRIPES:
what
the fuck
HAPPENED
in Prague
TONY:
ok so you know the guy who helped invent barf right
STARS AND STRIPES:
your fancy psychic hologram thing yeah
didn’t Pepper fire him when he tried to assault someone
TONY:
yeah beck was a total shitheel
with delusions of grandeur
really good at sfx and editing tho
working on releasing his employee file right now to cast doubt on what his video’s alleging
and on tracking the rest of his crew
but theyre in the wind atm + fridays found a fuckton of firewalls
STARS AND STRIPES:
just fucking great
what I don’t get, though, is why target Peter to this extent?
what the hell did Peter do to him?
TONY:
erika
STARS AND STRIPES:
what
TONY:
Even Retired Im Kicking Ass
STARS AND STRIPES:
that explains absolutely nothing
TONY:
what if i dont feel like explaining while im juggling like ten different things with one arm
STARS AND STRIPES:
Tony
what did you do?
--
CNN @cnn
BREAKING: Tony Stark releases statement and Quentin Beck’s employee file, accuses @JJJameson and @DailyBugle of slander. cnn.it/7fjUHE46
Tony Stark @IAmIronMan
#IStandWithSpiderMan
Abby || TLOU PART 2 SPOILERS @lesbianellie
YO TONY STARK REALLY OUT HERE DRAGGING JIMMY JONAH JAMESON THROUGH THE MUD
Steve Rogers @realsteverogers
@JJonahJameson @DailyBugle That’s a hero you’re attacking. #IStandWithSpiderMan
Rainbow Dash is my Wife @proudbrony
@realsteverogers and @IAmIronMan should be stripped of Avenger status, we have video evidence Spider-Man tried to get all those people in Prague killed and they’re STILL trying to stick up for him!
Abby || TLOU PART 2 SPOILERS @lesbianellie
@proudbrony lol they’re already retired bitch you can’t take shit away from them
Steve Rogers @realsteverogers
@proudbrony The same video evidence uploaded by a person whose file shows his specialty was video editing? That one?