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Peter groaned and allowed himself to rest for half of a second before pushing himself off of the ground. Shoving at a chunk of concrete that had landed on his hip, he’d have a bruise but nothing was broken.
Why is it that every time Peter decides to allow himself to relax, something always goes wrong? If that wasn’t a rhetorical question, Peter would answer (his own question) with Parker Luck.
He’s fought lizards, goblins, rich people, middle-class people, etc. So, really, he wasn’t too surprised to be fighting a witch. But, he was salty about it.
Part of him thought that perhaps he should contact Tony, but a bigger part of him was confident in his ability to restrain the witch. After all, it didn’t seem like they were trying to kill anyone, it was more of a chaos-creating type of villain. Still dangerous, but Peter wasn’t getting the - this person wants to see you dead, vibe. He wasn’t even getting a - this person wants to see you suffer, vibe.
Peter heaved a breath as he ran towards the witch, dodging various items being thrown at him. He had just shot out a web, finally having a clear shot, when the witch also noticed the opportunity.
Peter stumbled a bit and heard the witch let out a yelp at the webbing that was detaining them. He ignored the too warm feeling that flooded through him, instead, focusing on adding and adjusting the webbing that was restraining the witch.
He managed to get two steps away from the witch before his left knee buckled slightly. Followed by that was a wave of dizziness and a pounding in his head.
Knowing that it, likely, wouldn’t be a good idea to collapse so close to the battle, so close to the guy that hit him, Peter gave a quick wave to the civilians and did one last scan of the area to see if anyone had gotten hurt or stuck, and then swung away.
Despite feeling like his head was going to split open, and his body feeling like it was going to seize, Peter continued to swing for as long as he could.
He had gotten a good distance away from the battle. Not close to his apartment, or close to his bag, but it was far enough. He landed in some empty, dark alley. Unsteadily, Peter used the wall to hold himself up as he stumbled deeper into the dark alley. He saw a cat run out from some abandoned box and then it went dark.
-
Seconds after Spider-Man had left the scene, Iron Man appeared.
Some snot-nosed teen, covered in dust but otherwise seemed fine, looked him up and down.“I would say better late than never, but, Spider-Man already took the witch down.”
“Right. Uh, where did he go?” Tony’s face plate went up, as he scanned the area for anything red.
A lady appeared from…somewhere, “Iron Man! Is Spider-Man gonna be okay?”
That prompted another voice, this one a kid that was holding onto a woman, likely his mother. “Iron Man! Spider-Man got hit!”
Another voice piped up, “Is Spider-Man gonna be okay?”
One of the previous voices begged, “Please, go check on Spider-Man!”
The dust-covered teenager, that was closest to him, pointed in the direction they saw Spider-Man go. “He went that way!”
After making sure the witch was properly being dealt with, Tony started his search for Peter.
-
Peter blinked blurry eyes and tried to take in his surroundings. It seemed like he was in the same alley, but it was different.
Lifting his head, he looked into the reflective surface that was a lost pair of sunglasses. It took Peter a few minutes to realize what had happened, and then Peter was saying things that would make his Aunt clutch her pearls.
Well, he was trying to say the words, but all that was coming out were varying meows. And, Peter could tell that this was not going to be a fun experience.
After a couple of attempts, okay, a lot of attempts, Peter felt slightly comfortable with his new body. Comfortable enough to look around for his suit, revealing it to be absolutely nowhere.
Great.
So, someone either stole it, or the transformation took it.
He really hoped that it was the latter because that meant when he transformed back he would likely be clothed.
Either way, Peter couldn’t live in the alley forever. Peter was quite proud of himself for getting used to having four legs as fast as he did.
Focused on walking, Peter hadn’t heard some stranger cooing at him nor did he hear them getting closer. But, he did get a blaring alert from his (somewhat) trusty spider-sense, that someone was about to enter his space and try something.
Peter looked at the stranger and hissed, which seemed to deliver the message to the stranger since they backed up with their hands up.
Once he was satisfied with how far the stranger backed up, Peter grumbled, as best he could and stalked away. Somewhat unsteady, but, it was just something that Peter would have to get used to. After a little bit, Peter wandered into an area that was familiar to him.
There was a park not too far from where he was. Typically he would help cats out of the trees, once or twice he had gotten a frisbee from the trees. And yeah, occasionally he’d stick around for a little bit to play with the kids, but whatever. That wasn’t the point.
It was a nice park.
And from the park, he could probably navigate his way to the apartment. Aunt May was out of town, anyway.
During his travel to the park, which would have taken human (well, mostly human) him a few minutes at max. There were a few people that cooed at him, but for the most part, everyone ignored his existence.
The best interaction Peter had was: “See! If the cat can stop and look both ways before crossing, then you can too, Beth!”
It took longer than Peter had expected, but, finally, Peter had made it to the park. Where a familiar face sat waiting for him. Well, he couldn’t see his face, and the person likely was not waiting for him. But, that wasn’t the point.
Getting closer, Peter felt his chest tighten. It was not because of how defeated Tony looked, it was from, uh, something.
Tony was sitting on a bench with his head in his hands and looking absolutely pitiful.
Peter kind of wanted to find out who it was that upset Tony and destroy them. But, that was a mission he would have to save for later. Right now, though, Peter trilled as he rubbed his cheek against Tony’s pant leg.
Tony moved his head out of his hands slightly to blink at him, before leaning back and scrubbing his face with his hands.
Peter gazed at the man for a moment before meowing quietly, placing two paws on the man’s shoe.
Tony smiled slightly and slowly reached a hand down. Peter guessed it was because Tony didn’t want to scare him off, which was ridiculous.
Tony was far from scary. At least, he was far from scary to Peter, and to his spider-sense. Seeing as how, any time Tony was nearby, it decided to take a vacation.
Once the hand was close enough, Peter pushed his head into the hand with a trill. He was somewhat surprised when Tony began to pet him and was partly tempted to back away.
But, as Peter watched the tension slowly slip out of the other, Peter decided that he would allow it.
Just this once.
“Where’s your owner, little guy? Or at least I’m assuming you’re a guy. Even if you’re not, ‘guy’ can be gender-neutral. Like, in the phrase: hey, guys.”
Peter purred slightly and meowed. Tony had a habit of rambling. After a moment, still halfway listening to Tony’s rambling, Peter decided to jump onto the bench.
“Either way, it doesn’t matter,” Tony mumbled as he ended his ramble and looked around. As if looking for something, or perhaps someone. “Should really get you back with your owner.”
Peter narrowed his eyes at Tony, who didn’t seem to notice Peter’s blatant displeasure at the phrase owner.
Tony sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket, blankly staring at it before turning it on.
Peter made a small noise as he watched Tony dial his number, and with only a second of hesitation, call him. Tony’s leg began to bounce and his free hand came up to his mouth.
It went to voicemail, of course, it did, since Peter was not able to answer his phone. Tony pulled the away from his ear, turning it off as he let it drop. Tony, once again, buried his face in his hands.
“Why couldn’t he have just called me?” Tony muttered under his breath, “I told him to call me if he ever needed help. And what does he do? He goes off and fights some witch, and gets hit!”
Instinctively, Peter tried to defend himself. Tried to remind Tony that he did take down the witch and that there hadn’t been any casualties. And that he hadn’t needed Tony.
Which was the agreement. If Peter felt like he needed Tony, then he would call. But, he hadn’t felt like he needed Tony. So, he didn’t call. Which was the agreement. If Peter felt like he needed Tony, then he would call. But, he hadn’t felt like he needed Tony. So, he didn’t call. But when he tried to voice any of that, all that came out was a meow.
Tony inhaled slowly as one hand came to gently scratch under Peter’s chin…He’d rather die than admit that it felt nice.
“And, yes, he did win, but he still got hit!” Tony slouched further and continued his muttering quieter, “I know that he’s strong and smart. I know that he can make it on his own. And I know that he has been making it on his own. But, he doesn’t have to.”
It was quiet for a moment before Tony blurted, “God, I feel so fucking useless!”
Carefully, Peter placed a tiny paw on Tony’s thigh. Seeing no movement or any kind of protest, Peter carefully moved another paw. Slowly, and carefully, maneuvered himself until he was laying in Tony’s lap, quietly and, hopefully, comfortingly purring.
The two sat for a few more minutes. Tony was muttering under his breath, one hand petting Peter, and biting his nails on his other hand.
Peter was thinking about how hungry he was, the essay that he had due on Tuesday that he still needed to write the body paragraphs for, and all the possible ways that he could reveal to Tony that he was Spider-Man.
After moments of thinking about what to do, Peter wondered - what’s the worst that could happen?
Peter enjoyed allowed Tony to pet him for a few more minutes before he stood up. Slowly, he crawled off of Tony’s lap and onto the bench.
Ignoring Tony’s small, “Aw. Bye, kitty.”
Peter turned back around to face Tony and began to paw at his phone. Tony blinked at Peter, his brows drawing together as he tried to decipher what the tiny cat in his lap could want.
Without Tony’s help, Peter managed to flip Tony’s phone over, and he began to tap at it. Seeing it open, quite easily, Peter couldn’t help but direct a judging gaze toward Tony.
“Don’t judge me! Passwords are really inconvenient.” Tony complained, then looked towards the sky, “And I’m defending myself to a cat.”
Peter did his best eye roll and returned to the task at hand. Tony was silent, which was just about as much cooperation as Peter required, for all of two minutes before he realized what was happening.
“Hey, wait a minute. Why am I letting some cat in my phone? I’m starting to question whether you’re even a cat at all. Well, I mean, you obviously are somewhat of a cat. Since you look the part. If the term for creatures that look human is humanoid, then is the term for creatures that look like cats - catoid? Hmmm, that doesn’t sound right.”
Peter was halfway through dialing his number, using his nose to dial the numbers took a lot of concentration. Meanwhile, Tony chattered on about…something and didn’t notice what Peter had done until he whacked the man with his paw.
Taking notice of Peter’s number, Tony wilted once again with a depressing sigh. “Do you really think I should call again?”
Peter yowled, good God, this man was dense.
Tony startled slightly, but other than that just frowned at the cat. Not wasting a moment, Peter carefully placed his nose on the tiny circle next to his phone number, which brought him to his own contact.
Peter couldn’t help but glance at Tony seeing his contact name, Spider-M(e)an(ie)
Tony shrugged, “It’s a little funny, and also, if you’re not a cat, then what are you? Also, I haven’t slept in…” Tony looked up to think, “...a while.”
Peter pressed on the messaging icon, bringing up their conversation, and began the time-consuming process of typing out - “I am spider”
Once he was finished, he turned his gaze back to Tony.
“You’re a spider?”
Peter shook his head and meowed. But, otherwise, remained silent as he waited for Tony to connect the dots.
Peter could see the moment things clicked in Tony’s brain. “Oh my God, you’re Spider-Man.” He whispered.
Peter nodded with a tiny meow. Since he was unable to answer with some snarky comment.
“Oh, shit. No. Oh, fuck me. Why did I have to open my big fat mouth? Damn it. Glad you’re okay, kid, not glad that I sat here and poured my heart out to you.” Tony groaned and shoved his hands to his face, muttering and mumbling into them. His words were too muffled for Peter to understand anything.
Peter tilted his head and blinked slowly at Tony. Peter carefully placed a paw on Tony’s leg and trilled, trying to get Tony out of his head.
Tony took a deep breath and pulled his hands away from his face. “Okay, the witch. We need to go to the witch and make her reverse this. Right. Okay. Yes. Let’s go.”
Tony abruptly stood and began to stalk away from the bench, leaving Peter in the dust. After two steps, Tony stopped and turned around. “Are you going to be able to keep up or should I carry you?”
Peter wandered to Tony and stretched up, answering Tony’s question.
“Okay, up it is.”
It was a little fun to be carried, Peter would admit. It had been a long time since anyone had carried him, in a nice way. Had been a long time since he had been small enough to be carried.
It took Peter a few minutes to realize that he was purring, this time unintentionally. After a few seconds of debating, Peter brushed his cheek against Tony’s shoulder and decided that it’d be fine.
-
(Un)Surprisingly, Peter had been correct about the witch.
“I didn’t want to do any real harm! I promise. I just wanted to cause some chaos, I didn’t think it’d be so serious. I just wanted to mess around, and then, Spider-Man appeared and I got scared.”
Tony glared at the witch, and yeah, Peter could see how people found Tony intimidating. “So, you decided to turn him into a cat?”
The witch looked down and hunched their shoulders, “I’m sorry.”
The witch couldn’t be older than a teenager, so, Peter wasn’t too upset about what happened. Knocking his head into Tony’s hand, Tony leaned back.
“Your actions have consequences. Someone could have gotten hurt, someone could have died. If you want to cause chaos, write a vague anonymous love letter and stick it on some random person’s car.”
The witch sniffled and gave a weak thumbs up.
“Now, do you think you can reverse the spell or not?”
The witch jerked their head up and nodded quickly, “The spell will fade on its own in a couple of days, but, I could do it now.”
.
Peter groaned and stretched, internally rejoicing that his suit hadn’t been stolen and that his identity was still safe.
“Hopefully, the next time you see me, your first instinct won’t be to panic.”
“I’m sorry, Spider-Man.”
Peter rolled his shoulders, still somewhat getting used to being human again. His back hurt, he probably hurt it when he’d been tossed into the building and then aggravated it when he was swinging away.
“Thank you. Please don’t do it again. That was not fun.” Peter began to follow Tony out, but paused at the door, “Next time you feel like causing chaos, stare at your friend’s forehead or look directly above their head.”
-
Peter easily caught up to Tony, “I don’t suppose you have any candy on you, right now?”
Tony hummed and looked up from his phone, “No, why?”
“I didn’t think you did, but it was worth a shot. I’m very hungry, and should eat soon.”
“Oh, do you wanna get food together? I know a place not too far from here.”
Peter shook his head, “I don’t have my wallet with me.”
Tony chuckled, “I’m literally a billionaire, kid. I can pay.”
Peter weighed his options carefully. By that he means, he thought of all the reasons why it was a bad idea. “No, it’s fine. You shouldn’t be seen with me, anyway.”
Tony looked a little confused, “You mean, you shouldn’t be seen with me?”
“No, I said what I meant. It’s dangerous to be associated with me.” Peter crossed his arms and distantly realized he should really eat something, and soon.
“Fine. We could do take-out?” Tony suggested.
Peter narrowed his eyes, “Are you going to let me pay you back?”
“If I say yes, will you agree?” Tony queried, and at Peter’s nod, “Then, yes.”
Peter would have remained suspicious about Tony’s fairly quick agreement, but hunger won over suspicion.
-
Halfway through his meal, Peter had gotten two burgers and two large fries. “Alright, how much was it?”
Tony only hummed in question, too busy shoving fries in his mouth to use his words.
“The food.”
Tony swallowed the mouthful and grabbed his milkshake, “Why?”
Peter squinted at Tony, “So that I can pay you back.”
Tony chuckled and shook his head, “Nope. You don’t get to pay me back.”
“Wha- but you said that you’d let me pay you back!”
Tony pursed his lips and put on a thoughtful expression before slowly shaking his head, “I don’t remember that.”
Peter scoffed and crossed his arms, “Oh, please, old man. I know you’re not old enough to have memory problems.”
Tony sniffed indignantly, “People can have memory problems for more reasons than old age, Petey-Pie.”
A smile quickly spread across his face, “So you admit you’re old? Also, we aren’t close enough for nicknames.”
“Nah, you already contradicted yourself. Calling me old man, and then saying I wasn’t old enough.” Tony shook his head, shoving more fries in his mouth.
Peter chuckled and pitched his voice higher, “I don’t remember that.”
Tony whipped around to give a withering look, “I do not sound like that.”
Unaffected by the look that Tony was giving him, mainly because Peter knew it wasn’t real, “You do to me.”
“I sound like an annoying pre-pubescent boy?” Tony questioned with a raised brow.
“I mean, I wasn’t gonna say anything.” Peter laughed as Tony threw the scrunched-up bag at him.
“You’re such an asshole.” Despite the harsh, and true, statement, Tony was, (dare he say), beaming as he said it.
Peter was finishing off his burger when Tony gasped.
Dropping his food, he whipped around to look at Tony, fists raised, expecting the worst. And not expecting Tony to be perfectly fine, or as fine as that man could be. (Seriously, did this man not believe in self-care? And yeah, he wasn’t really one to talk, but-)
“If I tell you that hurt my feelings, will you bring me more cookies?” Tony asked as he finished eating the rest of his fries.
Peter stared at Tony with a blank expression, after ten seconds Tony shifted with a nervous laugh.
“You scared the shit outta me, jackass! I thought something was wrong!” Peter grumbled as he picked the rest of his food up.
“...I’m not hearing a ‘no’ about the cookies,” Tony observed, like the detective that he wasn’t.
Peter was quiet for a moment, mainly so that he could calm down before he asked, “What kind of cookies?”
“Is that a yes?” Tony’s voice had a slightly hopeful lilt to it. It was hardly noticeable.
“No, that was a question. There is a big difference between the two. Just like facts and opinions, not that you would know that.”
“Can they be sugar cookies? With frosting? I’ll pay or supply the ingredients.” Tony requested and offered, ignoring Peter’s teasing jabs.
Peter waved a hand as he munched on the last of his fries, “I can do that. And no, I don’t need your money or for you to supply the ingredients. Unless you expect me to use really expensive ingredients.”
Tony shook his head, “As long as you don’t poison me or get me sick.”
Peter hummed and placed the wrappers into the bag the food came in, “Couldn’t that be considered poisoning you?”
“I mean, I guess. But I was thinking like, poison me with, I don’t know, eyedrops in the cookies and then get me sick as in like food poisoning or something. Huh. I guess you’re right.”
“I usually am.”
Tony lightly shoved at Peter, and Peter allowed himself to be moved. “Alright, don’t get cocky, brat.”
The two sat in silence, and Peter thought, “This is nice.”
-
The next time Peter was able to make cookies, it had been close to a week. Peter was placing the sugar cookies in the oven, when Aunt May, who was sitting and knitting on the couch, piped up. “What’s with all the cookies?”
Unthinkingly, Peter answered. “Tony asked for more cookies.” It wasn’t until the words slipped out that Peter realized what he had done.
“I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t catch that first part. Who asked for cookies?” Aunt May had paused her knitting to look at Peter.
Peter cleared his throat and shook his head, “Oh, uh, just my friend, Anthony.”
“He must be special.” Aunt May said, in that oh, so familiar tone that Peter did not like.
Peter paused and stood up slowly, “What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m just saying that you rarely bake. And when you do, it’s only for special people.”
Peter looked away from Aunt May, “That’s not…true.”
“Oh, yes, it is. You have said, multiple times mind you. Special treats are to be shared with special people.”
Peter sniffed, “I am removing myself from this conversation.”
Aunt May laughed and returned to her knitting, and Peter couldn’t help but smile.
.
Later on, that night, as Peter lay in bed, he would think about what Aunt May said. She was right, of course, she was.
Peter was very picky about who he shared baked goods with. And it was reserved for special occasions. His specialty was cookies, he was decent with pies but only if he had Aunt May helping, and cakes were a solid no-go. He could bake the cake, he could prepare the frosting, but he could not, for the life of him, combine the two of them. So, he just avoided cakes altogether.
He had two options - he could either lie to himself and remain in denial, or he could face the facts.
Typically he would take the invisible third option and ignore/run from his problems. But, Peter felt as though that was less option three and just option one but worded differently.
As Peter glanced at the container, filled with carefully iced sugar cookies, with a handwritten note slapped on top of it, he knew he had his answer.
He wouldn’t admit it out loud. But, he could admit it to himself in the safety of his mind.
Tony had grown on him…kind of like mold.