Chapter Text
Peter Parker was born August 10th, 1996 to Richard and Mary Parker in Queens, NY, USA. He weighed 5 pounds, 7 ounces, had brown hair like his mother and when he opened his eyes approximately 8 minutes after his birth, he revealed brown eyes like his father.
Average. Peter Parker is astoundingly, impossibly, average.
He grows up easily. Both his parents work but he gets to visit his aunt and uncle often. Between the four of them, Peter is never really alone. At the behest of his father, Peter doesn’t go to daycare, but does go to preschool. He meets a boy named Harry. They get along well.
Harry’s father scares Peter, though he never says so out loud. Something about the man unnerves him. Harry is always very quiet around his father. Peter doesn’t know why. He feels helpless. He wishes he understood. He wishes he was big and strong and could find out why Harry was quiet when his father was around. Why Mr. Osborn made Peter feel so nervous.
He does nothing.
When Peter is 5 years old, the date is September 11, 2001. He’s in kindergarten. He sees the smoke from his Midtown classroom window. He has to hide under his desk with his classmates as his teacher quietly cries. He’s scared and he doesn’t understand why. Peter wishes he was big and strong. Strong enough to understand why his teacher was crying. Strong enough to help. Peter is helpless.
He does nothing.
Peter is 7 years old when his parents tell him he has to stay with his aunt and uncle for a while. That’s okay, Peter likes Uncle Ben and Aunt May. They’re younger than his parents. May lets him mess around with her watercolor paints and Ben lets Peter wear his police hat. But Peter wishes he could go with his parents. Wished he didn’t have to be left behind and forgotten. Peter always felt like his parents were going off on grand adventures without him. Leaving him behind so he didn’t get in the way. Once Peter was big and strong, he was sure they would let him come with them.
He was sure of it.
A few weeks after his parents leave, there’s a knock at the door of Uncle Ben and Aunt May’s small Queens apartment and Peter opens it expecting to be met with the open arms of his mother only to be greeted by two people in starched black uniforms. They wear sunglasses even though it is almost night time and Peter doesn’t know why May is so quick to pull him away from the door. He’s told to go to his room.
He comes out in the morning to find Uncle Ben crying. He’s never seen Uncle Ben cry before. Ben spots Peter lingering in the hallway and cries harder. Peter knows it’s his fault. Aunt May is the one to tell him that his parents were in an accident. She’s the one to tell him that Richard and Mary Parker are never coming home. Peter looks around at his aunt and uncle’s small apartment in Queens and realizes he’ll never be going home. Peter wishes he had gone with his parents. Maybe if he had been there, had been strong like he was supposed to be, he could have saved them. But Peter wasn’t even strong enough to make Ben stop crying. Peter was helpless.
Peter can only do nothing.
Ben and May never wanted kids. The apartment is too small for all of them but Ben and May’s jobs don’t pay well enough to get a bigger one and feed him. Peter knows this. He may be 10, but he knows. He knows from the looks on their faces that this is all his fault. Peter wishes he was big and strong and could take care of himself. That way Ben and May wouldn’t have to. His wish does not get granted. Peter is helpless.
Ben and May work a lot. They don’t have time to be with him like they used to. Peter insists that he can take care of himself. Ben and May think he needs a babysitter. Luckly, one of their neighbors has a son. Older than Peter by a couple years; high school. Ben and May think he’s perfect. Peter thinks he reminds him of Mr. Osborn. His name is Skip.
Skip babysits Peter for 5 months, then he graduates. Goes off to college in Oregon. Peter will never see him again. (He reminds himself of this when it’s late at night and he feels like crying because he wasn’t strong enough, smart enough, good enough. Peter did nothing. Peter was helpless. He doesn’t tell Ben and May. Skip is gone. It’s over now. All they would be is helpless too).
Peter turns 11 and tells Ben and May that he doesn’t need a babysitter anymore. He’s going to be in middle school now. He’s old enough to be home by himself. Ben and May believe him and agree. (Peter has never been more relieved.)
On the first day of 6th grade Peter meets a boy named Ned. Harry thinks he’s too cheerful and talkative. Peter reminds Harry that he had said the same thing about Peter all those years ago. Harry begrudgingly befriends Ned. Ned is overjoyed. (Peter still doesn’t like Mr. Osborn. He’s older now. Now he understands. But he isn’t any stronger. Peter remains helpless. He does nothing.)
Ben loses his job when Peter is 12. When Peter asks why Ben looks him in the eyes and tells him “Sometimes good men do bad things. And sometimes bad men do good things. The world is never as black and white as people would like you to believe, Peter. But the men who see bad things happening and stand to the side? Those are the worst men of all. If you have the power to stop something bad from happening, you must. Otherwise you’re worse than the people causing harm in the first place.”
2 weeks later a story breaks about corruption in the NYPD. Apparently a large number of officers and detectives had been involved in a city wide drug operation. Bribes, cover ups, destroying evidence. May lets out a shout of joy and Ben looks vindicated. But Ben doesn’t get his job back and Peter watches as May and Ben’s faces look thinner and thinner despite his plate remaining full. And Peter learns that sometimes, even if you aren’t helpless, you can still end up that way. No good deed goes unpunished, Harry would say. Peter is inclined to agree.
Peter is 13 and in 8th grade when he goes on a class field trip to OSCORP. He’s been before of course, with Harry being his best friend since forever. And while Mr. Osborn has given Peter a tour of the labs before given Peter’s interest in science, he’ll never turn down a chance to see them again.
“Why do you even want to go on this stupid field trip? We could literally see the labs any time,” Harry complained to him. Peter just shrugged.
“What’s the alternative? Stay home? Have to go to class despite the fact that literally every kid in our grade won’t be there?” Peter challenged.
“Besides, we don’t ever get to go with Ned,” Peter told him. Harry rolled his eyes. Harry and Ned had an…interesting relationship. Peter knew that without him in the mix neither of them would ever hang out together. But they were both important to him and they knew it so they tolerated each other. (Peter knew Harry was slowly warming up to their other friend. It might have taken a couple years but it was happening. Peter could sense it.)
“Fine,” Harry groaned, flopping back against his bed, crushing the pages of his math homework. Peter chuckled and sealed his fate.
Peter was 13 when he came home from the OSCORP field trip with a slight itch on the back of his neck. Peter was 13 when he woke up in the middle of the night, bed sheets soaked in sweat. He resisted the urge to scream as he felt like every one of his cells was lit on fire. Every movement felt excruciating. Peter managed to stumble to the bathroom and stick a thermometer in his mouth. May was working a night shift at the hospital. She wouldn’t be home for hours and when she did get home she would be exhausted. Ben was out of town. He’d gotten a job as a sales rep for some construction company and had to travel to Philadelphia every once in a while. The thermometer beeped.
105.3 degrees fahrenheit. 40.7 degrees celsius. Lethal.
The ambulance ride alone would kill them. They didn’t have a bathtub so all Peter could do was grab every ice pack he could find and lay them on his body. Peter let out a small whimper as the cold only served to exacerbate the sharp, prickly, burning rawness of his skin. He downed about 4 tylenol and hoped they would be strong enough to bring his fever down and ease some of his nerve flaying pain. Peter was helpless and he was going to die.
He couldn’t help but think about how much his funeral was going to cost.
Peter wakes up the next morning a good 3 inches taller, fever gone and pain eased. His skin still feels raw to everything he touches. Everything is still a bit too loud and a bit too bright but at least he isn’t dead. Peter counts it as a win.
Then Peter rips the bathroom door right off its hinges and thinks maybe it would have been better if he had died.
His aunt is asleep when he leaves for school and Ben is still out of town. Ned hardly notices Peter’s new height (as noticing things he doesn’t care about is not Ned’s strong suit) but Harry comments on it instantly.
“Since when are you taller than me?” He balks, looking Peter up and down. Peter just shrugs and says he hadn’t noticed. Harry complains about Peter’s new three inches and calls him sasquatch for the rest of the week. Peter does his best to lay low, ignore the signs, and not rip any more doors out of their frames. His plan is ruined by Thursday when he breaks his lab partner’s wrist with a fist bump. It is with this that Peter comes to understand two fundamental truths.
1: Peter has super powers. He needs to get control of these powers. He needs to always be in control of these powers because if he isn’t, if he slips up even the slightest bit, he’s going to kill someone.
2: Absolutely nobody can ever know that he has superpowers.
Peter had hurt Melissa Vought on complete accident. It was even an explainable accident, although far fetched. And yet Peter was dragged through a week long procession over the whole thing. He had to talk to counselors and nurses and doctors. The principle, the superintendent, and worst of all the police. Peter went to a rich, uppity school in Midtown on scholarship. Of course Melissa’s parents pressed charges for “assault”. Ben had to come back from his work trip early. May had to skip shifts at the hospital and looked more exhausted than ever. There were threats of them going to court.
The first night, Ben and May had sat him down and asked what happened. Peter told them it was an accident, which it was. Neither seems totally convinced.
“Peter,” May started, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You know you go to this school on a scholarship, right? If you lose that scholarship…well, baby, Ben and I just can’t promise you’ll still be able to go.”
“You’re smarter than all those kids put together, Pete. Ain’t no doubt about that,” Ben told him. “But they come from a different world than you do. Now, that doesn't mean they’re better than you, cause they’re not. But you are gonna have to work harder for a chance than most of those kids will ever have to work in their lives. You can’t afford accidents and mistakes, Peter. You have a bright, shining future ahead of you, kiddo. So bright it’s blinding to think about sometimes. But all that can go away if you give these people a reason to stop you.”
Peter had thought about what Ben said for a long time after that. Super powers. What a joke. They were supposed to be something out of a comic book. Reserved for people like Captain America. Great people. He needed to get them under control. Locked away so he couldn’t hurt anyone. Because Ben was right. Peter was living in a world of sharks, and having super powers was like dumping blood in the water.
Peter starts going to abandoned train stations and warehouses in the industrial district after school. They’re pretty much empty, save a few security cameras which Peter is careful to avoid and some homeless people that don’t pay him that much attention anyway. There are a couple of things Peter notices right away. To start, he’s strong. Really, really strong. Rule number one becomes even more cemented in his head after he is able to punch his hand clean through about 5 layers of cinder block. Peter almost makes himself sick with the thought of what he could do to a human chest.
Peter’s also fast and…sticky. Peter spends about a week trying to master his apparent ability of latching onto things. He spends one afternoon trying to see if there was a time limit on his stickiness. He ends up hanging from under an overpass for hours before he decides there isn’t and heads home. He finds that his center of gravity moves with him easily, so even when he is upside down he doesn’t really feel like he is. It’s weird.
Peter’s new prolonged absences are not missed by his aunt and uncle. May approaches him first, trying to broach the subject casually. She asks him if he’s been hanging out with Harry and Ned more. She asks if he’s found a girl he likes and assures them that if he had ‘he could tell them they’d be totally cool about it she promises’. At his subsequent denials, she asks what it is he has been doing, aggravation leaking into her tone. He tells her he’s been working on some science stuff. She leaves it alone but Peter knows she isn’t happy about it.
Peter doesn’t know how to explain that he’s doing it for them. He’s spending all this time away so he is in control. Ben and May don’t need his stupid super powers wrecking their lives more than he already had. If Peter hurt someone it would be the Melissa Vought situation all over again but 100 million times worse. And Peter wasn’t an idiot. He knew that the powers he had were too similar to the powers Captain America had way back in WWII. And Peter also knew that there were people in the world that would do anything to get power like his on their side and under their control. Power was an incredibly dangerous thing, and Peter was finding out every day that he had too much of it to let anyone know about it.
He catches snippets of his aunt’s worried comments to Ben. She’s worried he’s getting involved in dangerous things. Things like gangs and drugs. Ben tells her that she’s worried over nothing; Peter’s a good kid, he wouldn’t do anything like that. May asks him how would even know, he’s never home anymore. Peter covers his head with a pillow and tries to mask their rising voices. (Peter learns his hearing is far, far too good to be stopped by something as weak as a pillow).
Everything is all Peter’s fault again and he remains helpless. Peter does nothing. His chest aches.
It’s Ben that talks to Peter a week later. Corners him in his room after dinner. (Peter thinks his tactic is pretty underhanded).
“May tells me you haven’t been home as much,” Ben starts easily, leaning against his door frame. The lines around Ben’s face are deeper now. His hair is lighter and his frame is thinner. Peter thinks his very existence has aged Ben 20 years. He wishes he could stop hurting the people he loved.
Anything Peter says is the wrong answer so he just shrugs. Ben’s eyes narrow.
“Any new friends at school? How’s Harry and that other kid, Ned?” Ben asks cordially. Peter sees if for the prying that it is and wishes he could just tell the truth. But there’s no cure for super powers. Aunt May and Uncle Ben would just be as helpless as he is.
“No,” Peter says blandly. “I just take the long way home.” It’s a shitty excuse and he knows it.
“What’s wrong with coming home on time?” Ben asks accusingly, seeing through Peter’s flailing debacle of an excuse.
“What’s the point? You’re never here,” Peter bites back, voice sharp because he knows that it hurts and maybe that will get Ben to back off. Peter hates himself for the words the moment they leave his mouth because Ben’s face falls and he looks more devastated than Peter’s seen him since his parents died. That good old fashioned Parker fire (as May lovingly refers to it) enters Ben’s eyes and Peter knows this is going to be a conversation they both end up regretting.
“Don’t you think I want to be here, Peter?” Ben snaps at him. Peter rears back. Ben hasn’t ever snapped at him before. Ben sees Peter’s aborted motion and lets out a long breath through his nose in an effort to calm himself.
“I’m gone so I can provide a better future for you. I’m gone, working hard, for you . So you can have everything you need to succeed in life. But all that means nothing if you through it away on something stupid. Your aunt tells me she thinks you’re getting mixed up with the wrong things, Pete. And that breaks my heart. You have such a bright future ahead of you but goddamnit if you ain’t trying to mess it all up. You have a gift, Peter, in your mind. A true, genuine power. And with great power comes great responsibility. You have a responsibility to use the power you have for good. Don’t waste it on dumb teenage shit that’ll ruin your life.”
Peter knows there’s truth in Ben’s words. Peter knows he’s right. But Peter is tired of having his efforts to keep them all safe undermined by the accusation that he isn’t giving everything he has to his future. Peter spends hours in those warehouses. Hours alone working on fine tuning his control so he never, ever hurts anybody ever again. So he can live the rest of his life as perfectly average, boring Peter Parker. Peter Parker doesn’t want any kind of great power and he certainly doesn’t want the responsibility that comes with it. Ben doesn’t know this side of Peter’s story. And Peter can never tell him.
“You just don’t understand,” Peter huffs, turning away from his uncle.
“No, I don’t think you understand, Peter. You’re coming home on time tomorrow,” Ben tells him sternly. “This isn’t some free for all. Whether you like it or not, May and I are in charge of you and that means what we say goes.”
“That’s not fair!” Peter whines, knowing he sounds like a child and hating himself for it. Ben crosses his arms.
“Too bad.”
Peter doesn’t know a way past this situation. Peter doesn’t know how to make Ben understand that Peter can bench press a train car. Peter can box jump a story of a building and he can hear the blood in Ben’s veins right now as they speak. Peter doesn’t know how to make Ben understand that Peter wishes he could come home after school too. Peter doesn’t know how to tell Ben that he doesn’t want superpowers or greatness or responsibility. Peter just wants to be home with his aunt and uncle and laugh at bad movies and eat Aunt May’s terrible pan lasagna and build lego sets with Ned and talk about physics with Harry. Peter doesn’t know how to tell Ben that he’s 13 and scared and angry and helpless. Because Peter knows there’s nothing Ben can do to fix this. And Peter refuses to make Ben helpless too.
Peter doesn’t do nothing. Peter leaves.
He storms past Ben in the doorway and out of the apartment. He ignores May’s concerned and then frantic calls after him. He ignores Ben’s sturn call that he better not walk out that door.
Peter leaves. It’s the wrong choice.
He goes down a couple blocks to a corner store. He thinks that maybe the walk will make him less angry, less upset. Maybe a soda will wash down the lump in his throat from lying and hurting and yelling.
Peter buys his soda, a Dr. Pepper, and is about to leave the little bodega when the man behind him pulls out a .22 and levels it at the young cashier. She has pink hair and a terrified look on her face as she puts her hands up. The apparent robber has a ski mask and fingerless gloves. There’s a star tattooed on his wrist.
“Scram, kid,” the robber tells him. Peter takes a look at the cashier who’s eyes beg Peter not to leave her alone and Peter remembers what Harry says about good deeds and consequences. Peter could help, but not without jeopardizing everything he’s worked so hard to keep a secret. Peter isn’t some superhero. He’s just a kid who pulled the short straw and ended up with powers he never in a million years wanted. Peter walks out the door.
Peter makes it half way down the block when a shot rings out. He whips around, dropping his soda. His ears ring with the sound and he watches as two figures grapple outside the corner store. A second shot cuts through the air. One of the figures runs and turns the corner, disappearing from sight. The other falls and in the neon lights of the OPEN sign of the store Peter sees a look of anguish on the face of his Uncle Ben.
The next thing Peter knows is he’s at Ben’s side, his hands covered in blood as Ben sputters under him.
“Ben? Ben!” Peter screams, scrambling to press his hands harder into Ben’s side to stop the flow of red pouring onto the concrete.
“Somebody call 911,” Peter yells, looking around frantically for any passerbyers. In the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of the pink haired cashier, a phone pressed to her face.
“Please, Ben,” Peter begs. Ben looks up at him. His glasses are broken and his lips are covered in blood. Peter watches as recognition filters into Ben’s eyes.
“Peter,” he rasps, reaching up to grab Peter’s shoulder.
“I’m right here, Uncle Ben. Please don’t leave me,” Peter sobs. Ben gives him what looks like an attempt at a weak smile but it comes out as a grimace as Ben coughs up more blood.
“Please, Uncle Ben. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” Peter is choking on his words, tears clouding his vision.
“Remember what I said, Peter,” Ben rasps under him, his voice garbled from the blood in his mouth. “It’s going to be okay.”
“No, Ben,” Peter whispers. “No no no nonononononono, please Ben please don’t leave me here I was doing it for you, it was for you and May, I’m sorry,” Peter sobs.
Peter holds his Uncle and watches as the light fades from Ben’s brown eyes. They’re staring up at him, unfocused and unseeing. Peter’s heart breaks.
It takes the ambulance another 7 and half minutes to get there. They are far, far too late.
Peter sits numb as the police question him. He’s in the back of the ambulance wrapped in a shock blanket. The pink haired cashier is sitting next to him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t help you,” Peter chokes out. The young woman turns to him, surprised he even spoke.
“You’re just a kid,” she tells him, voice bitter and resigned. “What the hell were you supposed to do?”
It’s when he’s back home in bed, trying to block out the sounds of May’s sobs in the living room that Peter realizes a third fundamental truth:
3: If you have the power to do something, and you don’t, when bad things happen they happen because of you.
Peter wasn’t helpless anymore. Peter could have stopped that robber. Could have saved Uncle Ben. Peter’s inaction is the reason for Ben’s death. It’s all Peter’s fault.
He just can’t seem to stop hurting the people he loves.
Peter doesn’t want to have super powers. Peter doesn’t want to be some kind of superhero; those belong in comic books and history documentaries about people like Captain America. Great people. Not people like boring, average Peter Parker. But Peter doesn’t have a choice because now his uncle is dead and this time it really is all his fault.
Peter wasn’t helpless anymore. He can no longer do nothing.