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Peter sighs as he steps into the convenience store. He’s so tired. He’s just gotten off his second job of the day, and he doesn't think he has the energy to go out as Spiderman tonight.
Not that he really needs to anymore, he thinks. There’s a new superhero team now. The Fantastic Four. Peter can’t help but be a little bitter at the fact that the public accepted them so readily while he’s always been called a menace. Not when their dislike of him pushed him into the stupid decision to go to Dr. Strange. Not when he’s lost everyone he loves because of his fear of what the public would do to him and the people he cared about.
He may have lost them, but at least most of them are safe and alive, even if they don’t remember him.
And the new team is smart too. If he remembers correctly, most of them are wicked smart scientists. And the Human torch is his age. They make him think of what could have been if the Avengers had stayed together, if Thanos had never happened.
Would he have been able to visit the tower? Maybe had a room there? Worked with Mr. Stark in the lab, hung out with the other Avengers, learned from them? It’s hard not to be jealous. Human Torch has a whole team to help him, to protect him.
Peter has nobody.
It doesn’t matter. He still has Spiderman, even if the public still seems to hate him. He’s not going to stop. It’s like he told Mr. Stark. He protects the little guys. And that’s still true. The Fantastic Four might be here now, but they're not on the streets almost every day stopping ordinary crime.
That’s what Spiderman does. But still. He longs for people to lean on, to be able to relax with, to be himself with.
Maybe he can introduce himself, explain that he’s trying to do his part in his own way.
He’s almost done gathering the few things he came here for when he hears the bell above the door jingle. He ignores it thinking it’s another customer, but then he hears a gruff voice addressing the cashier, and his spidey sense flares.
“Money in the bag, or I shoot.”
Peter closes his eyes and curses under his breath. He’s tired, and he doesn’t have time to change into Spiderman. He turns slowly to keep an eye on what’s happening. As long as no one gets hurt…
But the terrified cashier is shaking her head.
“I don’t have access. Only the shift manatee has the key, and he’s not here right now. Please, don’t shoot.” They have their hands raised, and they’re trembling.
The thief snorts. “Sure.” he says sarcastically. “Open the register and don’t bother telling anymore lies.” He steps closer to the cashier, his gun still raised.
Shoot. This is bad.
“I’m not lying, please!” The cashier has tears running down her face.
Peter steps forward. “Hey, now. There’s no reason to get upset. She doesn't have the keys, so let’s try to settle down. You need money? I’ve got a couple twenties in my pocket.”
“Don’t move.” The gun is pointed at Peter now, which is better than being pointed at the cashier.
“Okay, okay, I’m not moving.” Peter says, raising his hands.
The thief is getting agitated, the gun moving between Peter and the cashier. He has to keep his focus.
“Come on, man. She can’t help you.”
“Shut up!” he shouts, but at least the gun is back on Peter.
The bell above the door jingles again, and the robber turns towards it. Peter dives towards him, but his spidey sense screams as the gun is pointed again in his direction.
He doesn’t have time to move. His body is too slow, too tired. He hears the bang and feels himself collapse. The door slams open, and distantly Peter is aware that the man is getting away. But he can’t move. He’s on his back. He looks down at himself. His chest is red, but he can’t feel anything. He lets his head flop down on the ground.
There is suddenly a face above him. A boy with golden hair and bright blue eyes. Peter can see his mouth moving, but there is a ringing in Peter’s ears.
Is this how Ben felt?
At least there will be no one to mourn Peter. And New York has new heroes. They don’t need Spiderman anymore.
He can go, see May again, see Ben, see Mr. Stark.
He lets his eyes close, distantly he’s aware of someone pressing on his chest, trying to stop the bleeding. He wants to tell them it’s going to be okay. The world doesn’t need Peter Parker anymore.
Peter can rest.