Work Text:
Normally when Peter gets overstimulated its as he wakes up, or at school. Once the final bell rings he’s usually home free for the day as far as his enhanced senses go. Tonight was an exception.
Peter had followed a car chase over the Queensboro Bridge and onto Long Island where he had decided to stay for the rest of his patrol. A change in scenery was never a bad thing and he was already here! Why not mix things up a little?
Famous last words.
The whole thing was really stupid. There was no robbery, fire or alien weapons. Just a bunch of drunk college students stumbling around a playground in SoHo at one in the morning on a Friday night. A bunch of drunk people with fireworks.
“Hey guys!” Peter called from where he perched himself on top of a jungle gym. “You know fireworks are illegal in New York, right?”
“Oh I know,” one of the girls nodded eagerly, beer sloshing in her bottle. “I bought them when I went home for winter break. They’re legal in Pennsylvania so no neeeeeed to worry Spidey. Thanks for checking up on us! You’re the coolest!”
“Yeah, but, you still can’t set them off in New York,” Peter attempted to explain as he rubbed the back of his head. “Fireworks are still illegal here even if you bought them legally somewhere else.”
“Oh, come on,” one of the other girls complained as she pulled out a lighter. “It’s just a little late New Years fun. And I thought you were around our age? Aren’t you supposed to be on our side?”
“I’m on the side of public safety,” Peter said, standing fully now. “And setting off fireworks in a playground in a metropolitan area is like, historically, not safe. Ever. I’m pretty sure this city has a bad rap with them.”
“Fireworks caused at least 400 fires in the 1990’s in New York City alone,” Karen chirped helpfully.
“400 fires,” Peter lectured, wagging his finger. “In the 1990’s. So why don’t we pack everything up, I’ll go drop the boom booms off at the station and you all can go enjoy the rest of your night? Safely that is. Safely enjoy the rest of your night. Preferably at home. Sleeping. You’ll laugh about this in the morning. Unless your hungover, which you’ll probably be.”
The students stared at Spiderman. Peter stared at the students.
“You’re lamer than I thought you’d be,” the girl holding the lighter deadpanned, clicking the flame open. A glob of web promptly stuck her hand to a nearby slide. Peter, to be fair, could admit that he by himself was a little boring. Spiderman on the other hand…
“I swing between skyscrapers on webs! I team up with Iron Man! That’s the furthest thing from lame!”
“You wouldn’t let us set off a few fireworks! It’s not like we’re robbing someone or something! Don’t you have better things to be doing?”
“Stopping you guys from setting a building on fire is important!”
“They’re all made of brick!”
“Very old brick buildings with very old insides! Do you know how flammable some of the older insulations are? Let me tell you, very flammable!”
Peter was so caught up in his argument that he didn’t notice what happened next until his Spidey sense alerted him to it. By then it was too late.
The girl who had bought the fireworks lit a flare and threw it at the rest of them. Peter whipped around and tried to intercept the projectile, but his webs burned off as soon as they touched the flame.
(Note to self, make fire-proof webbing.)
The resounding eruption could be heard for miles.
Peter, standing far to close to the explosives, was knocked on his back by the shockwave of 15 fireworks going off at once. Then the sound hit him. Boom after boom after boom. Each one echoed in his head and made his teeth chatter. Then there were the lights, each one brighter than a supernova to Peter’s sensitive eyes. And then the heat and the immense smell of sulfur.
Mr. Stark had built the Spiderman suit to protect Peter’s senses from the sound of gunshots and rare fiery explosion. Not this.
In other words, Peter was in agony.
By the time Peter managed to struggle onto his feet police sirens could be heard in the distance (their wails further assaulting his ears) and the group of students gone. The teen dragged himself an excruciating block away before he collapsed behind a car in an alley.
Streetlights, which didn’t bother him ten minutes ago, were now death rays to Peter’s retinas. The smell of garbage was unescapably nauseating and every playlist playing all over the island played for Peters throbbing ears.
Peter knew from experience that he wasn’t going to get better anytime soon. The only thing that could cure this level of overstimulation was a good night’s sleep. And the police were probably looking for him at this point. He needed to get off the streets. Now.
The only problem was Peter was miles away from home. He’d never make it. May was working the night shift and would have her phone off. Both Mr. Stark and Happy were out of town on business. Peter could try to make it to the tower, but he didn’t know for sure if he could get in or if he was allowed to be there alone. He could also try calling Vision or Rhodey, who were both at the compound upstate, but the chances of them finding him before someone else were slim.
Peter needed to find someplace safe close by with low lighting that was quiet and well hidden that he could lay low in until morning. Racking his jarred brain for a suitable solution he came up with an idea.
Right before Christmas Mr. Stark had dragged Peter out, as his intern, on a recruiting mission to meet one Dr. Stephen Strange. Tony wanted his Spidey sense to give one last all clear on the doctor before Tony tried to enlist him in earnest.
Peter was admittedly not as enthusiastic about medical science as he was engineering or biology. He had come across a few of Dr. Strange’s papers though after the spider bite. Back then Peter had no understanding of his Spidey sense and was frankly freaking out over how his brain could have been altered. He never found any answers, but it was still fascinating. Enough for the teen to minorly fanboy over meeting the doctor in person. And the whole wizard thing on top of that? So cool.
Dr. Strange didn’t seem to know what to do with a bouncing 15-year-old fanboy so Peter had been politely shoved to a corner with a cup of tea and the Cloak of Levitation to entertain him while the adults talked about the accords. That wasn’t so awesome but at least the doctor was nice about it. A lot nicer than Tony had been when they first met.
Another thing that stood out about the visit was how silent the sanctum had been. Not even the penthouse at the tower blocked out city noise so well to Peters enhanced ears. For the first time since the spider bite Peter couldn’t hear what was going on in the outside world, only the heartbeats of the two men and the swish of the cloak.
At the time it had been disconcerting. Now it seemed like heaven, and if Peter’s mental map was right he wasn’t that far away from the Sanctum.
He would have to outs himself as Spiderman. Normally the idea of revealing his identity would send Peter into a panic but to his overstimulated senses it seemed like a minor annoyance compared to the pain. Plus, he rather take his chances with a possible future Avenger than the police or any other random citizen that might come across him. With that thought in mind Peter hauled himself back up and started on his way.
Swinging around on his webs was probably idiotic in Peter’s condition. But so was crawling through back alleys of New York in the early hours of the day, Spiderman or not. So, Peter took his chances and only crashed into a building once. The second time was a lamppost. By the time he dropped to the ground in front of the sanctum the teen had a sprained shoulder and bloody nose to thank for his efforts.
Trudging up the steps, wondering if he was doing the right thing, Peter raised his fist to knock on the large blue doors. Only for said doors to open themselves.
“Hello?” Peter called hesitantly as he took a few steps inside, his own voice making his ears ache. The only reply was for the doors to shut behind him and the fireplace in the foyer to light itself.
As soon as the entryway was shut blessed silence was all there was. The windows only let in a little natural moonlight and the low fire was somehow silent and scentless. Peter, having seen weirder things, decided not to question it.
The teen dropped himself onto the sofa and pulled his mask off, his fingers automatically clenching around his gushing nose. Peter leaned back and closed his eyes, waiting for the bleeding to stop. By the time it did he was almost asleep.
“Is anyone here?” Peter called out again groggily. Once again there was no answer.
Shrugging to himself Peter stripped out of his suit, leaving him in just his boxers and a thermal undershirt. It seemed rude to put his dirty soles on what must be an antique. Then Peter wiped the remaining blood on his face off with his mask. The thing was already covered anyways and was too soaked through to sleep in. He’d suffocate.
Peter grabbed a throw blanket off one of the armchairs and laid down fully on the couch, wiggling around to find a more comfortable position for his sprained shoulder. His ears still rung, his eyes still strained, and his head still pounded, but like his first visit his Spidey sense was quiet.
Peter was safe.
It was with that last thought that the teen drifted off.
It was Peter’s phone that woke him.
The Star Wars theme blasted from the pile of spandex on the floor that was his suit. Peter blindly fumbled around, still half asleep, before digging it out of a hidden pocket and answering it.
“Hello?”
“WHERE ARE YOU?”
“Oh, um, hi Aunt May.”
“I checked on you this morning and you weren’t home! No call! No note! Nothing! Neither Ned nor Tony know where you are!”
“I can explain,” Peter rushed out as he launched into a story about the happenings of the previous night.
“-Then I remembered! Mr. Stark took me on this recruiting mission to meet a wizard-”
“Master of the Mystic Arts,” came the calm correction from somewhere over by Peter’s left side.
Peter screeched, dropping his phone as he jumped all the way to the second story ceiling.
“Or sorcerer, if that’s too much of a mouthful,” Dr. Stephen Strange said from where he was lounging on an armchair next to the couch Peter was just occupying, clad in sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt, slippers and his cloak.
“How long have you been there!” Peter squawked from where he was still stuck to the ceiling.
The doctor glanced at his watch, putting his book down.
“About two hours. You looked like you needed the sleep. Nice jump by the way.”
Peter continued to make unintelligible sounds as the doctor stood and gathered his phone from the floor.
“I gather you must be Mr. Parkers guardian?” Stephen asked as he beckoned with a finger at Peter to come down. The teen wearily obliged, the landing causing a sharp pain to his head. It was official, his headache was back. Guess he’d need more than one night of rest.
“I didn’t even know he was here until I came down for breakfast,” Stephen explained to May, eyes still fixed on Peter. “He didn’t break in, the sanctum let him in. Yes, the building is sentient ma’am. Yes, it is perfectly safe. I run a sanctuary, not a haunted house. He doesn’t seem to be injured. Are you hurt?”
Realizing the last question was directed at him Peter rolled his shoulder and checked his nose quickly just to make sure before shaking his head.
“Not still overstimulated?”
“You heard that?” Peter asked, cocking his head.
Stephen raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
“Well, duh, of course you heard that. You were right there. And, ah, it’s just a headache. And my eyes are still straining a little bit now that I think about it.”
Stephen lazily waved his unoccupied hand and the room dimmed, all the windows taking on a grayish sheen.
“Oh wow Dr. Strange, that’s really cool and really nice of you, but you don’t have to use magic on my behalf. Like, this is nothing. I’m used to a lot worse. Don’t waste your energy on me.”
This time the raised eyebrow was accompanied by a slight head tilt.
“Right. I’ll shut up now.”
That earned an amused twitch of the doctor’s lips.
“He’s fine,” Stephen said, talking to May once again. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name. Lovely to meet you Mrs. Parker. I’m Dr. Stephen Strange, I’m a sorcerer that’s charged with protecting New York and its sanctum sanctorum. You know of me? Yes, this isn’t a joke. I met your nephew last month when he dropped by with Tony Stark to talk about the accords and me possibly becoming an Avenger. Of course, I was led to believe Peter was Starks intern at the time.”
“That parts true!” Peter interjected. “I am Mr. Starks intern, so we didn’t lie or anything. Just admitted part of the truth…”
Stephen gave a noncommittal hum before turning his attention back to May.
“I’m more than willing to feed him and then send him back to you? Or you can come pick him up and see the sanctum for yourself? Great, I’ll have Peter text you the address. I’ll see you soon.”
After ending the call Stephen gently tossed the phone to Peter.
“Ah, thanks. I know what street this is but what’s the house number?”
“177A.”
After sending the prompt text off to his aunt Peter habitably tried to shove his phone in his back pocket only to realize that he didn’t have pockets. Or pants.
“Come on,” Stephen said as he started heading up the stairs. “You need to get cleaned up.”
Peter, thoroughly embarrassed, followed meekly and didn’t protest when a change of clothes was pushed into his arms and then shown to a guest bathroom.
“The cloak will show you where to go when you finish,” Stephen explained as said sentient garment that had been attached to his shoulders flew onto Peters. “And don’t touch anything. A lot of these old artifacts and relics can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Will do,” Peter nodded eagerly. “And I’m so sorry for letting myself into your home. And ruining your morning! And you’ve been so nice about it! Like seriously, thank you. I don’t kno-”
“Peter, stop,” Stephen interrupted, grimacing as he raised a hand. “The sanctum let you in. The building recognized you as someone who isn’t a threat and that it could help. Plus, you’re a kid! I don’t know how I feel about what you do but if your guardian and Stark are okay with it then it doesn’t seem like my place to butt in until I’m given a reason to.” Stephen took a deep breath. “Anyways, what I’m trying to say is my door is always open if you need help or are in danger. I much rather you did what you did last night than camping out in some alley.”
“So, you’re not going to tell anyone?” Peter asked, clutching the spare garments to his chest.
“No, and don’t thank me again.”
Peter’s mouth slammed shut.
“Hurry up,” the doctor commanded as he turned away and strode down the hallway.
15 minutes later, feeling much better after a hot shower, Peter followed the cloak to the kitchen.
“Why would I need your number?” Peter heard Stephen ask as he rounded the corner.
“Because I’m not doing the whole miscommunication think that happened with Stark with you,” Aunt May deadpanned from where she was sitting at the island, steaming mug in hand. “Since becoming a superhero Peter has been adopting father figures, aunts and uncles left and right and you’re inevitably going to become one of them.”
Peter, frozen in the doorway, watched with no little amount of horror as Stephen sputtered at his aunt’s prediction.
“I’ve seen it happen more than four times in the last year,” May interjected before Stephen could. “Don’t try to deny it. It took an EMP knocking out communication devices in both Peters and Starks suits for me to exchange contact info with Pepper Pots and James Rhodes. I spent three needless hours worrying about what happened to my nephew when I could have just called Pepper. This morning I went through the same thing. I know it wasn’t your fault this time, but it will be if it happens again. When Peter shows up here needing help, superhero related or just homework, I want to know where he is.”
Stephen gaped at May. May narrowed her eyes back. Stephen unlocked his phone and handed it to May.
“Good morning sweetheart!” the woman chirped at Peter as she typed away on the doctor’s phone, finally acknowledging him. “Come get breakfast.”
The teen did as he was told, sharing an overwhelmed look with Stephen as he sat down and a plate full of toast and eggs was slid in his direction.
“Speaking of homework, did you finish yours before patrol last night?” May asked as she finished what she was doing and passed the phone back to Stephen.
Peter moaned as he shoved a fork full of eggs into his mouth.
“Almost. There’s just this one paper…”
May’s eyes twinkled mischievously as she leaned back and watched Peter and Stephen dissolve into a discussion about the teen’s history assignment, getting more comfortable with each other. While Stephen was mostly known for neuroscience his thirst for knowledge and edict memory had led to him becoming a treasure trove in all subjects, something May remembered others both complimenting and complaining about when they both briefly worked at the same hospital. By the time the food was gone Peter had learned more about the Russian Revolution than in a week’s worth of classes and was far more interested in history than he’d ever been in his entire academic career.
“Why don’t they teach history like this in school?” Peter complained as they headed towards the front door, the teen walking backwards as the two adults followed. “There’s an actual interesting story to what happened! Not just a giant list of names and dates!”
“Names, dates and big history are easy for the state to test you on,” Stephen shrugged. “History will get a lot more fascinating once you get to college level.”
“I’ll be taking science classes in college. And probably some business if Mr. Stark gets his way. There won’t be space for anything else,” Peter said, his shoulders drooped, as he stopped by the door. It kinda felt like he was in the twilight zone to be so dejected by not being able to take more history classes of all things, but the doctor had managed to spark an interest in him.
Stephen let out a long sigh, his eyes losing focus as he seemed to consider something before meeting Peter’s gaze.
“I have some things to finish up today but if you want to come over tomorrow around noon, I’ll help you write your paper. Hopefully I can fill in some of the gaps for you.”
“Really?” Peter asked, eyes alight and bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Yes. You’ll need to stop by to return the clothes anyways, might as well make it a productive visit.”
“Thank you so much!” Peter gushed as he threw his arms around Stephen in a hug before letting go just as suddenly, leaving the older man rigid with surprise. “I’ll see you Sunday!”
“Don’t forget your suit!” Stephen hollered after the teen as he came back to himself, but Peter was gone.
“I already got it,” May said as she gestured to her stuffed shoulder bag. “Thanks again for looking after him.”
Stephen nodded mutely, crossing his arms over his chest as if he were afraid May would try to give him a hug as well.
“What did I just get myself into?” the sorcerer asked warily.
May only smiled warmly in return, patting Stephen’s shoulder as she passed on her way out.
“You’ll do just fine.”
A few hours later…
Tony: I’m still waiting for an answer about where Peter was last night. Anyone want to tell me what happened to the kid? Do I need to fly home?
Rhodey: May hasn’t called for a search party yet so I’m assuming she found him.
Tony: Still, I’d like a definite answer that the kid is safe.
May added Stephen Strange to Peter Protection Squad group chat.
Tony: What the actual fuck?