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Peter was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
It had started with a typical mugging, two older teens trying to shake down a kid who looked no older than twelve. They didn’t take too kindly to Peter’s “Shouldn’t you be in school?” remark, and whipped out matching switchblades, the sharp edges glittering in the light of the sun. They were tough looking kids, but not tough enough, and Peter took care of them with ease, pinning them in place with a well aimed web. He gained a swift knee to the ribs in the process, but it was worth it to see the relieved smile on the other kid’s face.
On his way to another location, he then proceeded to face plant into a wall, having lost his grip momentarily on his web. This wasn’t the first time this sort of thing had happened. He was just so utterly exhausted that he was beginning to slip up in small ways like this, miscalculating distances and having to overcompensate, just barely stopping himself from tumbling to the ground.
And if that wasn’t enough, he had passed by a crowd and had stopped in his tracks as the familiar scent of his aunt’s perfume had wafted past him. He had whipped his head around, searching blindly for the source, even though deep down, he knew it couldn’t have been her. But for just a split second maybe…
But of course, it hadn’t been her, and he had stumbled into an alley, leaning up against the wall and shaking with trapped emotion. And seeing as he was already heading down memory lane, he had decided to stop by the cafe where MJ worked, knowing full well it would just deepen the wound more. After that first time he had stopped by and saw how well her and Ned were getting on without him, he had told himself he would never come back. There was no sense in disrupting their lives when they seemed better off in his absence, their futures stretching out before them ready to take them to new heights, a future without him. As painful as it was to keep away, it was downright torturous peeking in and seeing how happy they were, laughing and talking together, their only concern being what the college campus would look like and would they make any friends there, completely oblivious to what—or rather—who had been taken from them. His heart cleaved in two, he had stood outside for a few moments before making his way back home, feet weighted down and dragging on the concrete.
He entered his apartment, closing the door behind him, and slid to the floor. He leaned back against the door and sighed deeply, feeling the weight of gravity pinning him down. His body felt heavier these days, the strength and energy needed to keep himself upright doubled over time, even more so to swing around buildings and fight the bad guy of the week. Just the simple act of breathing felt too much let alone moving; and often he laid on the floor and refused to move until it was time to go on patrol or to his shift at the deli. Basic things like remembering to eat and drink fell to the wayside until he could no longer avoid the hunger pains or the headaches which interfered in his studies, making it hard to focus. Intellectually, he knew he needed these things to survive, to keep going for the sake of others; but it was hard to motivate himself when the pull of oblivion felt so enticing.
Sometimes he asked himself what was it all for, the pain and the heart ache and the loneliness, and for what? To protect a city that saw him as a menace? That treated him like a common criminal?
But then, he’d get a tweet from someone praising Spider-Man, thanking him for his service, or he’d get a churro from the lady down the street for bringing home her cat, and he’d remind himself that this, the selfless act of helping others, regardless of the recognition or not, was what mattered in the end. The joy he’d see in the citizens’ faces as he fought for them and their rights, that is what kept him going when he wanted to quit. That and Aunt May’s last words to him:
“With great power comes great responsibility.”
He had been granted powers far beyond human abilities to help others and help others he did.
It had all been worth it; the state of the world was more important than his humble life. Peter Parker didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. He’d give his life for the people he loved, for the neighborhood he fought to protect. He did not hesitate and he did not regret his decision; but, every night he cried for the people and the life he had lost. The hollow feeling in his chest grew with each passing day with no sign of stopping. He feared one day it would swallow him whole.
But would anyone miss him if it did? Who would care if he were to just disappear one day? Would anyone even look for him?
Who would care for Peter Parker? Who would hold him when he cried, when the weight of the world was too much for his young shoulders to bear?
Was there anyone?
He was back to where he started, a nobody; and yet, he was worse off because then he at least had had Aunt May and Ned and MJ, and down the line there had been Happy and Mr. Stark—no—Tony. But now, he had no one, not a soul. He wished to be perceived by someone, anyone, to simply be acknowledged. He was used to being invisible, the outsider, the class weirdo. But he hadn’t known true anonymity until now. It was hard to believe that he existed when people seemed to look right through him. He craved the tiny interactions from strangers, the small smiles and nods as they passed each other in the street, the quiet “thanks” as he held the door for them, the wave from a child in the supermarket. In those moments, he could forget that he was no one and with no one waiting for him at home. For just a moment, he was human.
Going on patrol helped some, diving headfirst into work kept the dark thoughts at bay. But only for so long. And in the quiet of the night, they came for him. His grief wrapped around him like a straight jacket, a constricting hug from an old friend that wouldn’t leave his side. His dreams were plagued with horrors real and imagined, memories he’d rather forget, all the times he’d failed, all the people he couldn’t save. The guilt and the pain all mixed into one, drowning him. But he almost preferred the nightmares to the dreams in which his mind played tricks on him.
Those were worse.
Dreaming that Aunt May was alive and ready with a warm hug, the scent of her perfume lingering in the air; or rooftop dates with MJ, her hand in his, only to wake up and be thrust back into reality. What he would give to have one more Star Wars marathon with Ned, staying up late working on a Lego set, passing theories back and forth. He would even take one more day at school, worrying about normal things like homework and studying for an exam and dodging Flash and his new found obsession with him. Instead, he was studying for his GED on his own, walking along a path that was his and his alone.
He missed the normalcy of life, if his life before could be called normal. But now, this was his new normal.
The hero standing in the face of injustice, a lone beacon of hope.
Peter sat there on his floor for who knows how long, the clock in the kitchen ticking loudly in the silence. He ought to get up and eat something, maybe take a shower and study another chapter in his textbook. Nevertheless, he remained where he was, not really contemplating anything, his head devoid of thoughts. Sitting with his grief as Aunt May would call it, letting the negative feelings stew in the bottom of his soul before he locked them away for the time being.
Eventually, the numb fog cleared for second, a moment of clarity in which he reasoned with himself to at least eat a PB&J if nothing else, when his spider senses started tingling in response to some unknown danger. He stood up, eyes roaming the mostly empty apartment for signs of nefarious activity but there was none. He waited a few minutes before dismissing the warning and taking a step in the direction of the kitchen.
A loud whooshing noise sounded and the appearance of a multicolored portal materialized in front of him, followed by another. Before he could even process the sudden intrusion, two familiar faces popped through, setting foot in his apartment.
“P-Peter?! And other Peter?” Peter whipped his head back and forth between his alternative selves. “What are you guys doing here?”
The oldest Peter, Peter 2, who was once again dressed like a youth pastor, shared a look with Peter 3; and they shrugged in unison.
“Beats me.” Peter 3 fiddled with the strings of his hoodie. “I was working on a project when I felt something pulling at me, like some kind of siren’s call. I couldn’t ignore it; I needed to know where it was coming from. I followed the source for a few blocks and then this portal looking thing popped up and I thought ‘Hey, why not follow it?’ And here I am.” He finished with a quirky grin and a rock of his heels.
“It was similar for me,” Peter 2 interjected. “I felt this strong wave of despair wash over me. It settled in my chest, and it felt hard to breathe all of sudden, like there was a great weight crushing me. That portal opened up before me and the feeling got even stronger as I passed through.
“I had a feeling it might lead to you.” He smiled fondly at the youngest Peter who studied his guests with an intense concentration.
“Soooo….you guys both felt some strong force dragging you here?” Peter reiterated, trying to come up with theories that would explain this phenomenon.
“Yeah, it was like someone was calling for me, like they needed my help,” Peter 3 said and Peter 2 nodded in agreement.
Peter’s eyes widened a fraction but he refrained from commenting on that piece of information.
“Huh...weird,” was all he said.
“So, this is where you live, huh?” Peter 3 did a cursory scope of the place and flopped down on Peter’s dumpster-found couch. “Dude, your interior design sucks.”
“Hey, I get minimal wage!” Peter exclaimed, shame flooding through him.
“It’s not like I have company over anyway,” he muttered a beat later.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter 2 inquired, but Peter was already turning away from him.
“Uh, so, do you guys, like, want anything?” He hurried to the fridge and opened it. There was only a half filled carton of eggs, some cold cuts, cheese, a jar of jelly, and some milk that had soured occupying it.
He opened the cabinets next. “I got stuff to make sandwiches or there’s ramen and...more ramen?” he offered sheepishly. “I haven’t gone grocery shopping in like two weeks.”
“Oooo, I could go for some ramen!” Peter 3 called out.
“I’d take some water if you have some,” said Peter 2.
Peter thrust aside the old milk and found a couple bottles of water hiding in the back of the fridge. He pulled one out and tossed it to Peter 2, and then set about making ramen for two. Curiously, he had an appetite again and noodles suddenly sounded amazing.
Ten minutes later, he joined the other two Spider-Men on the couch, a steaming bowl in each hand.
“Here you go, Peter 3,” he said, handing him his food.
Peter 3 accepted it with a nose scrunch. “Can we, like, stop calling each other that? It’s kind of annoying.”
“Peter’s right. There’s no need to refer to ourselves like that when it’s just us three,” added Peter 2.
“Ok, so what do you guys want to be called?”
Peter 2 piped up. “I usually go by Pete where I’m from.”
Pete and Peter waited while Peter 3 loudly slurped his noodles.
He caught them staring at him and paused mid-bite. “What?...Oh, come on! How come I have to change my name?” he whined.
“Because this is my universe and I call dibs on Peter,” Peter smirked.
Peter 3 sighed dramatically. “Finnnneeeee. I’ll be Parker I guess.”
Satisfied with the name changes, they chatted as they ate, catching up on each other’s lives. Pete talked about his recent anniversary he had with his MJ and the trip to the coast of Maine they took. Peter and Parker quickly derailed the conversation, though, peppering Pete with questions about his organic webs until the eldest was red in the face from all the unexpected attention. He hurriedly passed the baton to Parker who admitted that he had been trying to find a way for the three of them to communicate with each other.
“Like some kind of multi-versal cell phone?” Peter asked.
“Something like that.” Parker scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know if the science is completely sound but I’m willing to give it a try.”
“With your brains, I’m sure you’ll be able to figure it out.” Pete offered him an encouraging nod.
Parker glanced downwards, a shy grin pulling at his lips. He slurped up the last of his noodles, secretly pleased.
“What about you, Peter? How’s MJ and—what was it? Ned?”
Peter faltered, his expression changing rapidly, until he settled on a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “They’re good. Yeah, they’re good,” he nodded sharply. “I can take that if you’re done.” He scooped up Parker’s empty bowl and carried it over to the sink, his movements stiff and jerky.
The other two didn’t miss his awkward response and displayed similar expressions of concern. Something was up with the littlest Peter; and somehow they knew it was related to their sudden appearance.
Peter sat back down only to spring up again the second Pete opened his mouth.
“I’m afraid I don’t really have much as far as entertainment goes. I might have a pack of cards somewhere or maybe--”
“Peter--”
“I have a working TV but it only has, like, five channels so--”
“Hey, Peter--”
“But I’m pretty sure I can find something to watch on my laptop; although, the wi-fi’s kinda spotty--”
“PETER!”
Peter finally stopped his nervous ramblings at the sound of both Peters shouting at once.
“What’s going on, bud?”
Maybe it was the softness in Pete’s voice or the kindness in Parker’s eyes, but whatever it was, Peter found his defenses crumbling apart under the focused attention. It had been a really long time since anyone had cared to ask how he was doing. The last time had been at the library when he had checked out some books and the librarian had asked him how his day was going. He had nearly broken down right there and then, but he had managed to keep it together. Now, he had his pseudo brothers’ attention; and they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.
“...Um...after you guys left, the spell...” he started, his voice shaky, fingers picking at the material of his suit. He hadn’t thought to change. The suit felt like a second skin; sometimes he forgot he was still wearing it.
“It was unstable. The multiverse was breaking up. I had to--” he broke off and stared at the ground. “I had to fix it. I had to reverse it. Otherwise the world would have been destroyed and it would have been my fault...”
“What did you do, Peter?”
“I had to...I had Doctor Strange make it so nobody remembered who I was, who Peter Parker was. That was the only way to fix it, to stop the portals from multiplying.”
There, he said it, the secret he had kept in his back pocket, the secret no one could ever know. No one else knew the sacrifices he had made to save everyone, what it had cost him. He had lost his identity that day and his friends. He had become the Invisible Man, living a solitary existence.
“Wait...so no one knows who you are? Not even your friends?” Parker said, his face contorted in disbelief.
Peter shook his head.
“Oh, Peter...”
Pete couldn’t even imagine the intense loneliness his younger counterpart must have been experiencing. To think, all this time he had been suffering alone, while him and Parker had traveled back to their universes unscathed. They had someone to come home to. Peter didn’t.
“Then, how come we still know who you are?” Parker was still trying to wrap his head around everything.
“Maybe because you’re also Peter? I mean, how could you forget yourself?” Peter said.
“True. Maybe. I don’t know.” Parker dropped his head over the back of the couch and groaned. “Ughhhhh, magic is weird!”
“Tell me about it.” Peter had definitely learned his lesson. That was the last time he would ever play with magic. The stakes were too high for his liking.
“Peter, how are you handling it?”
Pete asked what he deemed the most important question. They could discuss the wacky science until the cows came home; but he was concerned with Peter’s mental health. Humans were made to be social creatures. Even the most introverted of people needed someone to interact with. Complete solitude messed with a person’s mind.
“I’m doing fine, yeah.” Peter shrugged. “You know, going strong.” Even to Peter, it was painfully obvious how badly he was lying.
He squirmed under Pete’s gaze. “Could be better, honestly.”
Peter felt his eyes watering and his chin quivering; and he harshly wiped the tears away before they could fall. He couldn’t break down now. He needed to be strong; he needed to be Spider-Man. Spider-Man didn’t cry, didn’t lie in his bed all night staring at the ceiling until the sun rose in the morning. He didn’t almost jump out of his skin when a stranger brushed their hand against his accidentally in the crowded subway, his body unprepared for the forgotten sensation of what touch was like. Spider-Man was none of those things. He was a hero and vigilante to some, and a menace to others. He was the shinning light in the darkness of the cities slums, a symbol of peace.
But Peter Parker was just boy, a broken one at that, grieving for what was taken from him and what he could never get back.
“Peter--”
“It’s fine, really. No big deal...” he sniffed.
“Peter, it’s not fine,” Pete said, his voice firm but not unkind.
Parker shook his head. “Yeah, man, that sounds like it would really suck. I think I would lose my mind after a week, tops.
“But it’s been, what, months for you, hasn’t it?”
Pete shot him a look that said he wasn’t helping.
“What?” he mouthed back. It was the truth.
Pete rolled his eyes and turned back to Peter and jolted at the sight of tears silently running down the younger man’s face. Peter was eerily calm, seemingly unaware that he was even crying. He was simply standing in place, staring into the distance, having forgotten he had guests.
“Peter?”
Peter slowly faced him and offered Pete the saddest smile he had seen in his life. As much as he wanted to convince them, Peter was very much not ok.
“Come here.” Pete rose from the couch and led Peter to sit beside them.
Peter expected them to say the usual empty words like “Everything’s going to be ok” or “Hang in there”, useless platitudes that did nothing to salve his wounds. Instead, Pete pulled him into a hug, his arms cocooning him in warmth. He startled at the physical contact, his skin prickling in response. He started shaking and then couldn’t seem to stop.
The first sob ripped through his chest unbidden, surprising all of them. He clung to Pete in a fierce grip that on a normal person would have produced bruises, but to Pete it was barely noticeable. He let Peter silently cry into his shirt and met Parker’s gaze over his crumpled form.
Parker’s own eyes were glistening and he placed a hand on Peter’s back, feeling the tremors underneath his palm. He sighed a bone-weary sigh and leaned forward until his forehead bumped against Pete’s arm. His heart ached for his youngest brother. He was too young to be dealing with this kind of tragedy. But such was the Parker curse. A stolen childhood, a wake of dead loved ones behind them, the burden of carrying the world on their backs. Only they knew each other’s pain; only they understood.
Even when they had no one, they had each other.
Now that the bottle had been uncorked, Peter felt everything rushing to the surface, all the pain and anguish and anger at his lot in life. He wanted to scream and cry and throw a tantrum like a small child, scream at the sky and say, “IT’S NOT FAIR!” But what good would that do? It wouldn’t change what had been done. His only choice was to move forward and accept his new life; and he was trying. He really was. But it was harder than it looked, suffocating in its magnitude.
“Hey, hey, slow down, buddy. You’re going to make yourself sick.” He heard Pete’s voice floating somewhere above him.
“I-I can’t…!” he managed to squeeze out, a desperate squeak they could barely hear.
The tears kept falling without let up and his breathing was erratic and harsh. His volcanic emotions threatened to overcome him completely unless he could somehow get a hold of himself, come up for air and break through the surface. But, he just didn’t have anything left in him anymore.
“Yes, you can.” Pete gently pushed him away; and Peter practically whimpered at the loss of contact. Please don’t let me go.
“I need you to breathe for me, can you do that? Just take a deep breath.” Pete tilted him forward, head between his knees, supporting him with a hand on his chest and back. “Deep breaths...That’s it.”
Slowly, Peter tried to control his breathing, choking at first; but soon, he was able to breathe easier, his chest rising and falling at a natural pace. Now that he was a bit calmer, he could feel the repercussions from his prior outburst. His head pounded in time with his pulse, his eyes aching tremendously. His body was tense from sitting in a tightly wound position for too long, his already sore muscles protesting at the further abuse. Suddenly, he felt queasy and woozy all at once. All he wanted was to lie down and pass out for the next few weeks. Nobody would mind if he took a tiny break, would they?
“There you go. That’s better.” Pete motioned to Parker, but he was already up and acquiring pain meds and water to swallow them with. He returned and handed the pills and the water bottle to Peter, who accepted it gratefully, dutifully sipping at his drink.
Parker gave him a sympathetic smile. “You were holding all that in, weren’t you?”
Peter nodded, fiddling with the water bottle, the plastic crinkling under his fingertips. He couldn’t afford to lose himself to his grief. He was just glad his alter egos had been here to keep him from splitting at the seams. He no longer had the strength to put himself back together if he had.
Pete started to say something and then stopped. What did a person say in this kind of situation? What words would uplift and mend the broken cracks? Nothing seemed right or appropriate for the gaping, festering wound in Peter’s heart. He was at a loss as to what to do about his brother when Parker stepped up to the plate.
“Hey, don’t let this get you down, yeah? I know it’s a lot for anyone to deal with...” He paused. And you’re just a kid. “But Peter—Hey, look at me.” He dropped his head to make eye contact with him. “I would take this burden from you if I could. Believe me I would. But, this is something you’re just going to have to live with; and the last thing I want is for you to get bitter like me, to start viewing the world in shades of gray. But there’s more to life than this, I promise you.
“Don’t loose heart, kid. Just take it one day at a time. That’s all you can do.”
Peter peered up at him with reddened eyes, snot drying on his face, and sniffed. “...I miss them so much...”
Parker nodded, his mind immediately conjuring the image of Gwen, her golden hair, her smile that haunted his dreams. “I know.” He crushed him in another hug. “But you got us, yeah? Us Spideys got to stick together.”
Peter laughed weakly at that; and Pete joined in.
“I know it’s not much but take comfort in knowing that there’s at least two people out there rooting for you. Not for Spider-Man. For you, Peter Parker.” Pete squeezed Peter’s knee, his eyes holding genuine affection in them.
Peter offered him a tentative smile in return. He still felt fragile, like if any more pressure was applied to him, he would crumble to bits. But for right now, the pain had eased somewhat. A peace settled over his heart, and even if it was only temporary, it was a thousand times better than how he had felt these past months.
Peter suddenly yawned, catching their attention, and setting them all off.
Pete stretched, cracking his back. “We should probably get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
“Sleep?” Parker read the time on the clock. “It’s only 11! That’s still early, you old grandpa.”
“Grandpa?! How old do you think I am?” Pete asked, genuinely troubled.
Peter and Parker shared a look. “I don’t know…50ish?”
“...I’m 46...” Pete said in the quietest voice imaginable. He didn’t look that old, did he?
“That’s basically 50!”
“No, it’s not! Every year counts when you get to my age!”
Parker pointed a finger at him. “Aha! So you admit you’re old.”
“That’s not what I said!” He broke off and sent a glare to Peter who was trying to stifle his giggles. “You think this is funny? He’s picking on his elder!”
“Oh, so now you play the oldest card!” Parker shook his head. “How convenient.”
“You’re twisting my words.” Pete leaned back, gesturing to the incorrigible middle child. “Ok, just how old are you?”
Parker shifted in his seat, coughing. “...38...”
“Wow, you guys are, like, ancient.” Peter chose that moment to enter the conversation, beaming at being the youngest, and for once, being proud of it.
Pete shot Parker an incredulous stare. “Did he just call us ancient? We’re not going to stand for that, are we, Parker?”
“Nope. Can’t take that kind of slander from a toddler.”
“Hey! I’m...” Peter paused, puzzled. He never could keep track of his age after the Blip. One minute he was 16, and then suddenly it was five years later and everybody else had aged without him. His age hinged on a technicality at this point. It really just depended on who you asked.
“Hah, he doesn’t even know his own age,” Parker cackled. “A baby.”
“I’m not a baby!” Peter silently fumed as the older men laughed at him.
“Baby, baby, baby!” Parker sang, poking at Peter’s sides and making him squirm. “Ah, a ticklish baby too!”
“Ack! Don’t—Get off!” Peter tried in vain to shove away two pairs of hands attacking his stomach, giggling all the while. “Cut it out!”
He managed to wiggle his way out, sliding onto the floor ungracefully with a loud thump. He curled inward, protecting his torso from any further attack, and sent daggers in Pete and Parker’s direction.
“You guys suck.”
“That’s what older brothers are for,” Pete said, lips curled in an evil grin. “To pick on you.”
“So watch your back from now on ‘cause this spider might just...Bite!” Parker darted forward, and Peter rolled away in the nick of time.
He stood in the far corner of the room, eyeing the both of them warily, while they continued to poke fun at his reaction.
Pete wiped at his eyes, still chuckling. “Ok, all jokes aside, you really should get some rest, Peter. You look exhausted.”
Peter supposed there was some truth to that. He could do with a nice, hot shower and fresh clothes. He could practically hear his bed calling to him from the other room, beckoning him to bask in its softness (more like lumpiness but anything would do at this point). However, when he thought of leaving Pete and Parker behind, a tightness developed in his breast. He didn’t want this night to end. This was the first real interaction he’d had in months, and he didn’t want to go and come back only to find the living room empty once again.
Pete sensed his hesitation and nodded at him encouragingly. “We’ll still be here when you come back.”
“Promise?” The word slipped out before he could think about how childish it sounded.
“Promise,” Parker said. “Now, go take a shower. You reek!”
“No, you!” Peter shouted as he ran past them to his bathroom.
As soon as he could hear the shower running, Parker collapsed backwards against the couch. His heart felt heavy after that emotional conversation with Peter, and he knew Pete was feeling it too.
“He’s just a kid...He’s gone through so much, experienced things we can’t even imagine. He’s lost not one, but three parental figures—Pete.” Parker leveled Pete with a determined gaze. “We got to do something. I can’t just leave him like that.
“I just met you guys and I can’t--” He bit off the words as if he was afraid by mentioning it out loud it would call upon the Parker curse. He had found parts of himself that he didn’t know was missing, and he’d be damned if he let anything take them away from him.
Pete sighed heavily. “I know what you mean. I’ve been thinking about you both ever since I got back to my own universe.” He smiled wistfully. “Sometimes I find myself thinking, ‘Peter 1 would find this interesting’ or ‘Peter 3 would like to try that’. Life’s just not the same anymore now that I know you exist.”
Parker sat up, growling and scrubbing his hands through his hair. “There’s got to be a way for us to keep in contact. I don’t know how exactly, but I’ll find it. I swear it.”
“If there’s anyone who can find a solution, it’s you.” Pete nudged his arm lightly with his fist.
Parker nodded slowly, his brain already spitting out ideas for him to try later. “I just...I just wish we could stay with him for a while, just until he’s back on his feet.”
“I know. But our universes need us. They need Spider-Man.”
“...not mine...” whispered Parker darkly.
Pete opened his mouth to comment on that, but the sound of the water shutting off distracted them both.
Seconds later, Peter was walking back into the living room, wearing Hello Kitty pajamas and a t-shirt that said, “I survived my trip to NYC.” His hair was still in the process of drying, the ends of the strands curling slightly, giving him a much younger appearance. Pete resisted the urge to make a joke at his expense and ruffle those curls even further. The sooner they got Peter to bed the better. He seemed ready to drop on his feet at any moment.
“Nice pjs,” Parker quipped.
Peter quirked his brow in confusion and peered down at his attire. “Oh. Mr. Stark got them for me.” The memory of the reason behind the items of clothing floated to the top of his brain with mixed emotions. That day on the rooftop seemed so long ago, an earlier time when his only concern was proving himself worthy of the “Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man” mantel, proving himself to his mentor. How simple life used to be.
“You’ve mentioned him before. He was part of that band, right? The Avengers?” Pete said.
“Oh yeah! Tell us about the band you were in!” Parker jumped in his seat, excitedly.
Peter chortled, shaking his head. “It wasn’t a band. It was a group of earth’s mightiest heroes.”
Parker was ready to ask him rapid fire questions, but Pete held him back with a hand on his shoulder.
“Let’s put a pin in that, shall we? Peter needs to rest.”
“Ughh, you’re such a killjoy!” Parker groused.
“If...If you’re staying...” Peter’s eyes shone with hope. “I have some extra blankets in the closet I can give you, but I’m afraid the couch is all I have.”
Pete waved his hand. “We’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, I’ll set up a hammock in the corner. Don’t worry about us.”
Peter shuffled in place. “Ok. Well, goodnight, I guess.” He hesitated a beat more before heading towards his bedroom.
Peter crawled into bed and pulled the covers over him. He closed his eyes only to open them again. He sighed and turned over onto his side but sleep escaped him. He didn’t understand; he really was worn out; however, that empty feeling inside his chest returned, settling under his rib cage. The nights were the hardest for him, when he had nothing to distract him from his thoughts and the glaring emptiness of his apartment. Even though his brothers were in the other room, it could have been a whole other continent as far as Peter was concerned. So close and yet so out of reach. He clutched a pillow in his arms and tried to imagine it was MJ instead.
Soft footsteps reached his ears. Light from the hallway filtered through his open door.
“Can’t sleep?”
Peter rolled over and saw Pete and Parker standing in the doorway. He shook his head. No use in lying to them.
Pete rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Neither can we.”
They’d been trying to sleep with little success. The invisible pull that connected all three of them together was stronger the farther they were apart from each other. It was practically unbearable knowing Peter was just in the next room over and they were out there.
“Oh...You wanna…?” Peter gestured to his bed, blushing.
Parker wasted no time in jumping in next to him, the bed dipping with the added weight. “It’ll just be like a sleepover!”
“Man, I haven’t been to one of those in ages.” Pete said, pulling the covers back further.
“With Harry?” Parker asked.
“Yeah. Good Ol’ Harry...Well before...”
“Yeah...”
“Anyway, scoot!” Pete crawled in on the other side of Peter, nestling him between them. It was a tight fit with all three of them in the bed, but they’d make do.
“Hmm, this is nice.” Parker snuggled into Peter, his arms wrapping around him loosely.
Peter startled, and Parker quickly pulled back. “I’m sorry--”
“No, no! I just wasn’t expecting it.” When was the last time he had been held like that? He tried to remember but to do so felt like pulling stitches out of a still healing wound. Don’t think about that now.
Parker resumed his position, grinning to himself. He’d always been a tactile person and a snuggler in bed. Gwen had let him hang on her as much as he wanted. He’d miss this, the innocent closeness of another; and he bet Peter was missing it too.
Pete draped his arm over the both of them, tucking his other one underneath his head as a makeshift pillow. At that, Peter turned to face him and offered him the pillow he had been holding. Then, he made grabby hands until Pete was forced to close the distance between them. Pete chuckled quietly and played with his now dried curls that had been calling to him since Peter had exited the shower.
“Sleep well, bug”, he whispered, tacking on an affectionate nickname.
Peter’s eyes fluttered shut as Pete’s fingers ran through his hair. “You won’t be gone in the mornin’?” he muttered sleepily.
“Not yet. We’ll say a proper goodbye. Promise.”
Peter let out a contented sigh and finally, finally, his body and mind synchronized. He succumbed to sleep, the comforting warmth of the bodies next to him melting the ice in his heart.
***
It was sometime mid-morning when Peter eventually woke up, the smell of bacon frying tantalizingly irresistible to his stomach. He stayed in bed for just a few minutes more, basking in the sunlight filtering in through the window, and remembered last night’s events. He’d assume it was some kind of fever dream, just another trick of the mind, if it weren’t for the fact that he could hear someone banging around in the kitchen and the distant sound of the TV playing. He let himself have this peaceful moment before having to face reality. The other Peters would be going back to their world; and he would be alone again.
Sighing, he slid off the bed and shuffled into the main room.
The TV was tuned into Saturday morning cartoons. Parker was sitting cross-legged on the couch with a pillow clutched to his chest, singing the Scooby-Doo theme song softly to himself. Pete was manning the kitchen, flipping pancakes and cracking eggs, bacon sizzling on the pan.
Pete looked up from his tasks. “I hope you like pancakes.”
“Of course. Who doesn't?” Peter rested his arms on the counter.
“Waffles are superior!” Parker called in the background.
“Blasphemy!”
“The syrup pools in the little squares and it explodes in your mouth.”
“Yeah, but pancakes soak up all the syrup and get all nice and soggy.”
Pete interjected before an all out war could be started. “Guys, can’t we agree that they’re both equally good?”
Two outraged pairs of eyes met his. “No!”
Pete shook his head. Who knew breakfast foods was such a serious matter. He piled the food onto plates and handed them to Peter.
“Here, take this.”
Peter stared down at the plates in his hand. Chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream smiley faces stared back at him. Two sunny-side up eggs made up the eyes; the bacon took up the remaining space on the plate. It was the sort of thing Aunt May might have done to cheer him up and the image brought an ache to his breast.
“Where did you get all this stuff?”
Pete took a bite of his bacon with a loud crunch. “Went shopping. I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t know what you liked so I got a bit of everything.”
Peter swallowed around a lump in his throat. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Pete just shrugged with a self-satisfied smile. “Go on. Eat your food. Young spider-lings need their nourishment.”
Peter joined Parker on the couch, and the elder took his plate without taking his eyes off the TV screen. He practically inhaled his food before Peter had even taken a bite out of his and thrust his plate in the air.
“More!”
Pete scoffed. “Get it yourself.”
Parker grumbled and then slyly stole a slice of bacon off Peter’s plate.
“Hey!”
“You snooze, you loose.” Parker stuck his tongue out at him, popping the stolen prize into his mouth.
“You’ve got to train those spider senses of yours,” Pete said, appearing on the other side of Peter. “There’s crime everywhere.”
In the time Peter was distracted by Pete, Parker swiped another piece of bacon as well as an egg.
“Hey!”
“Yeah, Petey, the criminals are getting bolder everyday.” Parker fought off an irate Peter, holding him back with a hand on his forehead. His other hand dangled the food in the air just out of reach.
Pete calmly scooped up the matching egg in the ensuing chaos and refrained from drawing attention to himself.
By the time Peter noticed what was going on, his plate was practically empty. He pouted and refused to talk to Pete and Parker until they refilled his plate, which they did because sometimes they were nice.
They passed the rest of the morning in relative peace, their focus mainly on the cartoons and eating their coveted meal. Peter made sure to be vigilant, his arms covering his plate as he ate the rest of his breakfast, distrustful that his brothers would play nice. (They did). And before they knew it, it was time to part ways.
“Well...I guess...This is goodbye.” Peter grinned ruefully. He’d enjoyed having his counterparts here with him and was sad to see them go.
Parker made a face. “That sounds so serious. How about ‘See you later’?”
“I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of each other.” Pete placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Take care, bug.”
Parker lifted Peter in his arms, giving him a big bear hug. “I love youuuuuu!”
“Love you too,” Peter laughed, hugging him back
Pete wrapped his arms around the both of them. “Spidey bros forever.”
Behind them, two portals materialized, beckoning Pete and Parker to walk through. They separated from the embrace and shared one last meaningful glance.
Peter inclined his head in acknowledgment, eyes glistening. “Thanks. For everything.”
And he meant it. Nothing had changed about his predicament; however, something had definitely shifted inside Peter’s heart. He had a long road to get to where he wanted to be, but now the journey didn’t seem so insurmountable. He had been looking at it the wrong way, at the bottom of a mountain, the summit miles and miles above him. But now, he could see the footsteps carved into the rock, a pathway for him to climb one step and on to the next, one foot in front of the other. One day at a time. And he didn’t have to do it alone. He had his brothers with him, spiritually if not physically, encouraging him to keep going, offering support when he stumbled. They were bound together as soulmates, three people that shared one heart.
And one day, he would look back down and see how far he had come, how he had picked himself up and made a place for himself in this new world. Standing on solid ground, he would come off victorious having conquered his demons. But until then, he’d keep going. The neighborhood needed Spider-Man. And so did Peter Parker.
Pete and Parker mirrored matching peace signs; and Parker went through the portal backwards, waving his hand in one last goodbye. Pete hesitated at the threshold, turning to offer Peter one more word of advice.
“It’s not too late to patch things up with your friends. You just have to take that first step, no matter how hard it seems. Trust me,” he said, with the air of a man who knew what he was talking about.
Peter nodded. “I know…”
“Don’t be afraid to make new friends either.” Pete met his eyes, hoping these last words would sink in. “A stranger is just a friend you haven’t met yet.”
It sounded so ridiculous, like something out of a self-help book, and Peter couldn't help but snicker.
“I’m serious!” Pete cried, the corner of his mouth also quirking upwards.
“You’re such a dork.”
Pete laughed heartily at that and finally slipped through the last portal.
Peter was left alone once more but this time his apartment didn’t feel as barren as it used to. He surveyed his tiny room and could almost see a ghosting of where his brothers had been. The memories they’d made together he carried inside him.
For the first time in what seemed like forever, Peter Parker believed he was going to be ok.