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Returning home was a very similar experience to leaving it. One minute, Peter was standing on a broken shield, staring at an alternate version of himself, then the next there was a flash of golden light, and suddenly he was in the same alley he had been in when he was pulled out of his world. He blinked, lowering the peace sign he had held up in response to the one Peter 3 had given him, as he took in his surroundings. He was pleasantly surprised when he found his civilian clothes and mask sitting in a heap next to him. At least he wouldn’t have to explain to MJ that he lost his wallet in another universe.
A whole other universe. It was going to take him a while to wrap his mind around that.
Peter sighed as he bent down to gather up his things, fully intending to put on his mask and swing back home. His plans fell apart when pain shot up his back and the world around him began to spin. He cursed as he keeled over, only just managing to catch himself before he landed face first against the pavement.
Right. Norman had stabbed him.
Peter grunted as he pushed himself up so he was sitting on the ground instead of half-laying on it. He tried twisting around to look at the wound, just barely able to ignore the pain the movement caused, but unfortunately it was in a spot on his back where he could barely catch a glimpse of it. He could see the blood, though, and there was a lot more of it than he was expecting.
He cursed under his breath before shooting out some web to drag his pants over to where he sat. Maybe now that he was home, he could call MJ or Miles or-
He had just dug out his phone from his pants’ pockets when a heavy thump sounded a few feet behind him.
“There you are,” a familiar gruff voice said, and Peter bit back an aggravated groan.
Well, it wasn’t exactly the help he had in mind, but beggars can’t be choosers.
“Hey, Wolverine,” he greeted as he glanced over his shoulder to the familiar yellow and blue clad mutant.
While the mask hid the top half of Wolverine’s face, Peter could still feel the glare that was being sent his way. “Where the hell did you go?” Wolverine demanded as he stalked forward; his tone was aggressive, practically growling. “Do you have any idea what sort of panic you caused? Your kid practically broke down our door when you disappeared on him!”
Peter winced as he turned back to his phone; now that he was back in his own universe, he could see the calls, texts, and voicemails that had been missed while he was in the other universe. “Was Spider-Man able to stop the bank robbery?” Peter asked instead of answering Wolverine’s questions.
Wolverine scoffed as he came to a stop behind him. “Yeah. The kid did good, despite all his panicking,” he answered, the aggression in his tone now less pronounced.
“Good,” Peter said with a nod. He could recall seeing Miles swinging toward the scene of the crime above him and had been debating if he should help or let Miles handle it when he was yanked into another universe. He hadn’t realized Miles had seen him, and he felt a stab (ha!) of guilt.
“You gonna tell me what happened?” Wolverine asked as he kneeled behind Peter. “Or are you just gonna sit there and bleed out?”
Peter sighed and moved to stand, but a strong hand on his shoulder kept him sitting on the ground. He scowled but couldn’t find the energy to fight against the hold. “It’s a long story,” he said, dodging the question once more. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Fine,” Wolverine said, and Peter could just imagine the eye roll that paired with his exasperated tone. “I’ll just worry about you bleeding all over the place instead.” He pressed against the wound, and Peter flinched at the sting of pain the slight pressure caused. “Wanna at least tell me how this happened?”
“I was stabbed,” Peter said dryly as he sent Wolverine a flat look over his shoulder.
If Peter was a weaker man, he might have wilted under the glare sent his way. “No shit,” Wolverine said through gritted teeth.
“Don’t get so worked up,” Peter said as he turned back to his phone. “I’m not gonna die. I’ve been stabbed before.”
The hand on Peter’s shoulder gripped tighter, and Peter winced in pain. “What the hell do you mean by that?” Wolverine growled. “What, because you’ve been stabbed before you’re now immune to it? If that’s true I would’ve jabbed you years ago.”
Peter blinked before shooting a bemused look over his shoulder. “Jabbed?” he repeated incredulously.
Wolverine’s scowl somehow showed through his mask. He then got to his feet, shoving Peter’s shoulder as he did. “Gather your shit and put your mask on,” he demanded. “I’ll take you someplace safe to get patched up.”
Peter sighed but did as he was told, moving slowly as he stood and bent over to prevent himself from getting lightheaded and toppling over once more. The last thing he needed was for Wolverine to witness him face-planting while picking up his clothes.
Once his mask was on and his personal items were neatly folded and stacked in a pile, Spider-Man carefully stood up straight and turned to Wolverine. Wolverine gave him a once-over before huffing and snatching the blazer out of the stack.
Spider-Man could only watch as Wolverine ripped it.
“Hey!” he cried as he lurched forward for the blazer, but he had to catch himself from dropping everything, giving Wolverine ample time to step out of reach.
“Gotta staunch the bleeding, bub,” was all Wolverine said as he walked around to stand behind Spider-Man.
Spider-Man sighed in defeat. “You owe me a new one,” he grumbled as Wolverine began to tie the torn blazer around his torso to cover the wound.
Wolverine scoffed. “I don’t owe you shit,” he groused. “If anything, you owe me!” He then went on to grumble under his breath, though Spider-Man’s powers ensured he heard it all the same. “‘I’ve been stabbed before,’ he says. Hmph, I’ll stab you right now.”
Spider-Man was tempted to comment on the grumbles. The world, however, began to tilt, and he decided it would be best if he didn’t anger the man with six knives built into his body who was graciously helping him.
Once Wolverine was satisfied with the temporary bandage, he took the rest of Spider-Man’s stuff and had Spider-Man get on his back. “I’m gonna climb up to the roof and then head for a nearby safe house,” he explained. “Should have some first aid there.”
They travelled in silence, with the only conversation being Wolverine checking in to make sure Spider-Man was awake. Luckily, the safe house was only a couple of blocks away, and they were able to make it there in good time even with Wolverine only working with one free hand.
The silence continued once they were safely inside, each one removing their masks as soon as the windows were covered. Peter went to work removing the ruined blazer and peeling off the top half of his suit while Logan went digging around for the first aid kit, once again grumbling about reckless spiders with death wishes.
Peter heaved out a sigh as he took a seat on an old chair that had a few suspicious bloodstains and smelled strongly of disinfectant. “I don’t have a death wish,” he told Logan as the other man drew near. “I don’t think that because I got stabbed before means I’m immune.”
Logan scoffed as he pulled up another chair and settled down behind Peter. “Yeah? Coulda fooled me,” he said as he got to work cleaning the wound. “You didn’t even try to clean it or patch it up!”
“I was a little busy,” Peter argued before letting out a low hiss of pain.
“Mhm, sure,” Logan said flatly. “Just what the hell were you so busy with?”
Peter was silent for a moment as he thought over his answer, his shoulders tense. He thought of Peter 1’s angry sneer, of Peter 3’s exhausted, heartbroken eyes, of the fierce hug they shared. He then thought of Norman, Otto, and Flint, and he felt a knot form in his chest.
“Hey, Logan… can I ask you something?”
Logan let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Sure, Spidey,” he said tiredly. “Ask away.”
Peter took a deep breath. “Is Norman Osborn alive?” he asked.
Logan stilled behind him, one hand resting on Peter’s back right above the wound, the other having dropped the soiled rags onto the ground and was reaching into the first aid kit for the surgical needle and thread. There was a long pause where only the sound of their breathing and the city outside could be heard.
“Did… you travel back in time?” Logan finally asked, his words more hesitant than Peter thought he was capable of. “Is that where you disappeared to?”
Peter frowned. “Time travel? No, I…” His voice trailed off as he shot Logan a curious look over his shoulder. “Why would that be your first thought?”
Logan glared at him. “Not important,” he said, his tone holding no room for argument.
Peter eyed him warily for a moment before tucking away his question with a sigh. He’ll ask again later. “No, I didn’t travel back in time. I…” He paused again before he turned back around and stared at his hands as he tried to think of how to explain the past few days in a way that Logan would believe.
“Well?” Logan prompted after a moment as he finally grabbed the surgical needle and thread.
Well… Logan did bring up time travel first.
“I got pulled into a parallel universe,” Peter admitted quickly, his words rushed.
“Huh,” was all Logan said as he moved to start stitching up Peter’s wound. “That’s a new one.”
“It’s true,” Peter argued, wincing at the pinch of the needle.
“I believe you,” Logan shot back. “Doesn’t make it any less new.”
“Right,” Peter breathed out, not sure if he believed Logan’s words but not in the mood to argue further. “Well, in that other universe, I ended up… helping alternate versions of myself? And our actions might’ve changed the past here.”
Logan let out a low hum. “Okay…” he said slowly. His hands were steady, though, as he continued to patch Peter up. “I don’t know what answer you wanna hear, Peter, but Norman Osborn died years ago.”
At once, the knot in Peter’s chest loosened and his shoulders slumped as equal parts disappointment and relief washed over him. He wasn’t sure why saving the villains in that other universe didn’t stick in this one, and the fact that all those he cared for and lost were still gone was… crushing. But he could not deny that he, perhaps paradoxically, was glad that the universe he returned to was still one he knew, that his actions hadn’t cost him those he cared for and still had, like May and MJ and Miles…
He wasn’t sure how to feel, honestly, and so he just stared down at his hands in silent contemplation.
“Call your family,” Logan said after a moment, startling Peter out of his thoughts. “They’ve all been driving us nuts since you disappeared.”
“Right,” Peter muttered, realizing then that so far only Logan knew he was back home and safe. He once again used his web to pull over his phone from his pile of belongings and wasted no time unlocking it. “Thanks,” he said as he selected his contacts.
“No problem,” Logan said. He then placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing it hard enough to hurt, right before Peter could select MJ’s number. “And Pete? Give us a warning next time you decide to take a stroll in another universe.” The hand squeezed just a bit tighter before letting go.
Peter shot Logan a smile over his shoulder. “Sure,” he said, laughter in his voice. “I’ll give you all the warning I got.” Which was none, but Logan didn’t know that. Peter’s smile then softened. “Sorry for worrying you,” he apologized.
Logan was still for a moment, not meeting Peter’s eyes as he continued to dress the wound. When he at last glanced up and met Peter’s gaze, he scoffed and shook his head. “You got the wrong idea,” he dismissed as he turned his attention back to the stab wound. “I was just tired of all the panic.”
Peter’s smile widened as he turned back to his phone. “Sure, you were,” he said.
Logan flicked the back of Peter’s head. “Shut up and call your family,” he reprimanded. “I’m trying to concentrate here.”
Peter could only laugh as he finally selected MJ’s number.