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Wings are one of the most precious things in the world for people. Everyone guards theirs like the apple of their eye and will not let them go, because wings are a symbol of pride. Wings respond to human emotions, emphasize them. People use them to express trust, to show interest in a relationship.
Of course, plenty of people also use their wings for flying, to shorten their journey when they're running late, and most don't mind having their wings outstretched in public.
Peter Parker was one of the few who didn't keep his wings spread. Because Peter was a crow. And no matter how much society progressed, the vast majority of people still considered the jet-black wings that crows boasted to be unlucky. Prejudice haunted him at every turn, people cast pitying or disgusted looks at him whenever he walked down the street with his wings spread, and parents forbade their children from playing with him on the playgrounds. And no matter how noble Peter's nature was, the superstitions that people had believed to be true for millennia were stronger than the purity of his soul. It didn't matter how hard his parents, Uncle Ben and Aunt May, tried to tell him that nothing people said was true - over time he had learned to hate his wings.
~~~
Peter Parker was eight when he finally understood that it would be best to never spread his wings in front of others.
Four classmates, a year older than him, waited for him after school and cornered him, where they attacked him. They threw him to the ground, pinned him down so he couldn't escape, and with a few clever blows along his spine, his wings flew out on their own. Two boys grabbed his wings and two more plunged knives into the place where the wings come out of his back.
The only thing that saved Peter from having his wings clipped was his desperate scream, which was heard by the teacher marking papers a few classrooms away.
His wings eventually healed without the blade impairing his ability to fly or causing pain when he extended his wings, but the scars, both on his body and soul, remained forever.
~~~
Peter Parker was fourteen when he was bitten by a radioactive spider on a school trip.
He gained inhuman abilities. His senses improved, his healing accelerated, and he had much greater strength.
But when he carefully pulled out his wings in the privacy of his room to see if his altered DNA had left any marks on them, he soon hid them back under his skin at the sight of the black crow feathers.
~~~
Peter was fourteen when, after several long years of protection, his wings involuntarily burst from his back due to emotion.
Red blood clung to his black feathers as he desperately clung to the bleeding Ben, and at that sight he understood all the superstitions about crows that made him hate his wings.
~~~
When he was fourteen, he found Tony Stark sitting in his living room.
Back then, he would suppress his enthusiasm by force of will to prevent his wings from appearing.
He was a crow, a messenger of death. He couldn't let Tony Stark, his greatest hero, pay for his wings. Not when his parents had already paid for Uncle Ben.
He swore he would never show Tony Stark his wings.
He wouldn't be able to stand the disgust on his face if he found out who Peter really was.
~~~
Peter Parker was fifteen when Adrian Toomes dropped a building on him.
As soon as he saw several tons of concrete coming at him, he crouched down, instinctively wings sprouting from his back in a futile attempt to protect himself from the rubble. The only thing he achieved was more injuries.
That night, after leaving Vulture with Happy and summoning all his strength to get up from the billboard, he slipped through the window into Ned's room, where his best friend was already waiting for him.
Ned had seen Peter's wings before, and as one of the few who not only didn't shy away from him, but even remained his friend, which was the only reason he had his wings repaired by him. Although neither of them knew exactly how to fix broken wings without the proper environment and tools, accompanied by Peter's whimpers, they managed to fix the bones, and then let Peter's super-fast healing work its wonders.
They also wrote to May not to worry, and when all the adrenaline had drained from Peter's body and fatigue had taken over, he simply collapsed onto the blankets they had been sitting on, his wings still outstretched. Ned rolled him onto his stomach to avoid further injury to his wings, and he himself eventually collapsed onto the bed.
The next morning, Peter's wings had healed enough that he could hide them under his skin again, although the scars caused by the pieces of metal and concrete remained with him as a reminder of last night forever.
~~~
Peter Parker was fifteen when Tony Stark took a greater interest in him, and their fragile teacher-student relationship turned into something solid, strong, something that bound them together almost like father and son.
And that's exactly when it all went wrong for Peter.
~~~
When Steve's team was forgiven and the Avengers reunited, things went back to normal surprisingly easily. Sure, some relationships were still strained, some things couldn't be forgotten, but both sides had a certain understanding for the other. And the fact that Tony was able to forgive Bucky for killing his parents definitely helped their relationship.
Then, of course, there was that little connecting element named Peter Parker. It didn't take long for everyone to understand why Tony was being so... protective of him, and it took even less time for them to share those feelings with him. They agreed without words that Peter Parker, the new blood of the Avengers and their future, simply had something about him that made it impossible for them to dislike him.
The boy always radiated joy and enthusiasm, and he had so much energy to give. In short, if there was a word to describe Peter, it was emotional . He never tried to control his emotions, at least not the positive ones, which he literally overflowed with.
That's why the Avengers were a little surprised that even after six months of living together, they hadn't seen Peter's wings. They thought that with all the emotions the young hero was brimming with, he would always have his wings outstretched, but they were clearly wrong.
“Maybe he’s still embarrassed by us,” Sam suggested one evening as they sat around the dinner table, thinking about Peter again. Every time he wasn’t with them at the base, he probably mentioned him at least once a day.
Bucky pushed his fork across his plate of vegetables. “Or maybe they still don’t trust us,” he sighed. As much as he tried to keep his voice impassive, everyone could sense a hint of regret and sadness at the thought of Peter not trusting them.
Tony, to the delight of everyone present, shook his head. "I don't know... I haven't seen his wings yet either."
Clint shot him a look, his wingtips fluttering with interest. "Really?"
When Stark shook his head, Steve thoughtfully placed one hand on the table and waved the fork he held in his left hand. "What if..." he began uncertainly. "What if Peter doesn't have wings?"
"No," Natasha dismissed the idea before it could take root in the minds of others. "I've seen him nervously touch his back, or sometimes he'd stop, freeze, and tense up. I can tell when a person is trying not to spread their wings."
The silence that followed this statement was deafening. Everyone knew it meant only one thing: Peter didn't want to spread his wings in front of them. But the question remained why.
"Well," Tony finally said, "we'll have to wait for Peter to come to us himself."
They couldn't force him. It was an unspoken rule among people, because wings were still something personal for everyone. They could be compared to tattoos in some ways; a person decided for himself who, where, and when to show them.
They could only wait.
~~~
"Okay, Mr. Stark!"
"Hello, young man," Tony chuckled, ruffling his hair. The ends of his own wings twitched slightly as Peter, with a squeal, tried unsuccessfully to straighten his hair again.
Tony was a kestrel, his dark brown feathers almost turning red halfway down his wings, and the tips of his wings and the undersides of his wings were bluish, a reminder of the palladium poisoning he had been unable to shake off. Yet he proudly displayed his wings because they gave him a sense of security. Especially after his capture in Afghanistan, it was a relief to see his wings unharmed and to know that he had not been broken.
Peter admired Tony's wings and made no secret of it. After all, he admired all the Avengers' wings and would occasionally spill facts about what each bird's wings symbolized when someone on the team was feeling down. How could he not admire his heroes' wings when they were, simply put, so majestic and enormous?
Steve was, unsurprisingly, an eagle. Peter had already learned that Bucky had made fun of him when they fought together in the war. “A true patriot,” he used to say. “Who else should be Captain America?” And Steve
Bucky, on the other hand, was a buzzard. Unlike Steve's dark brown wings, his were mostly white with only a black trim around the edges. A third of his left wing was reinforced with metal to help him protect himself and fight, but since it was too difficult for HYDRA to replace his wings in their entirety, they left him with them rather than deprive him of his ability to fly.
And Peter felt incredibly honored when Bucky showed him his wings, and even more so when he allowed him to look at them and keep the mechanism in his wings running.
(However, the others noted with disappointment that even this did not force Peter to spread his wings, even though they could see him struggling with it.)
Sam and Clint lived up to their nicknames, boasting stunning gray-and-white falcons and brown-and-white hawk wings. It should be noted that they were excellent at flying them, and watching them fly (Sam without technology) was something that took Peter's breath away and made him incredibly jealous.
But Natasha had wings that were most similar to Peter's, and perhaps that was why he had become close to her as one of the first. Natasha was a tanager with wings as black as night at the joints with her back. From the centers of her wings, the color gradually changed to dark ruby shades of red, to lighter crimson at the edges.
But despite the black color that appeared on Natasha's wings, her wings were not a cause for hatred or ridicule. Tanagers are gracious singers, not messengers of bad news.
"- er? Hello, Earth calling Peter. Do you understand?"
He flinched in surprise as Mr. Stark flashed before his eyes, and with burning cheeks he looked down at the ground when he noticed the others who currently occupied the living room watching him in amusement. "Uh… sorry, I was just thinking."
"I've noticed," Tony grinned. "These kids these days, they can't even last five minutes. Am I really that boring to you that you stopped paying attention after the two words you heard from me today?"
"No!" Peter snapped immediately. "No, definitely not, Mr. Stark. I was just lost in thought. Seriously."
"And what's more important than paying attention to your absolutely most amazing, most brilliant, and simply the best teacher?"
"Lots of things," he grinned at Tony, and Sam chuckled. "Like figuring out what Moula should put in your coffee today."
"Nothing like that, kid, don't even look at my coffee, okay?"
"Of course."
His teacher glared at him. "I won't let you into the workshop today?"
“You won’t have to,” a voice said from behind them. They both turned, along with Sam and Bucky, who had looked up from the television. Natasha and Clint stood there next to each other, grim expressions on their faces, Natasha holding her phone out for them to see. “The government has some work for us. There’s an enhanced one out there causing mischief.”
"Hydra, a secret government experiment gone wrong, or something else?" Tony asked grimly.
"Something else," Clint sighed. "He's in Detroit. He killed nineteen people and apparently he's turning the city upside down."
“So, crazy,” Bucky summed it up. “What are we waiting for?”
“Can I come too, Mr. Stark?” Peter blurted out. He grabbed Tony by the sleeve like a little kid begging his parents to stop for ice cream, and put on puppy dog eyes. “Please?”
Tony looked at him. They didn't let Peter go on all the Avengers missions, but he had already completed several successful (and unsuccessful) missions with them, and since he was here with them, he saw no reason not to take him with them. After all, with each action he gained new experience that he needed as a future (real) Avenger, and on top of that, he had the whole team by his side - what could happen?
"Be in the quinjet in three minutes, or we'll leave without you."
"Command, Mr. Stark!"
~~~
"Okay. Since we're all here, Natasha, Clint, any more specific information?"
As soon as the Quinjet took off, set on autopilot, the team gathered in the middle for a war council and a final check of all weapons before the drop. The flight would have taken nine and a half hours by commercial airliner. Only twenty-two minutes by Quinjet, capable of reaching speeds of seven hundred and twenty meters per second.
"It's a failed experiment by a private company. According to Nathan Warr, head of research for ITEX, there was an electrical short circuit. Thirty-three-year-old William Trason, one of the employees, was there. He didn't have a chance to survive, but the electric current reacted with the chemicals and poof - it caused a mutation in him. He can control electricity. He can whip out electrical discharges." Natasha paused briefly and looked Tony in the eye. "Something like an improved Whiplash. But while Vanko needed a harness, he only needs his hands."
Steve frowned. "Tony, are you going to have a problem with the suit?"
The billionaire shook his head. "I don't think so. Vanko may have fried a few of my circuits, but I've improved my suits a lot since then. The only thing I'm worried about is the communicators. And Peter," he turned to his ward, "for God's sake, don't get hit. Your suit will work offline, the throwers have their own mechanism, but—"
“—but if the suit goes offline, I’ll lose Karen and my connection to the team, and you won’t know how I’m doing,” Peter finished. “I understand.”
Tony nodded gravely. He didn't like the idea of suddenly losing track of Peter's vital signs in the middle of a fight. "So be careful."
"I'd like to avoid bigger problems anyway," Steve continued.
Sam leaned thoughtfully over the holographic map of Detroit they had in front of them. "Best to keep him out of the water. There are already dead..." he glanced at the figures next to him, "twenty-two people." Everyone frowned, and Peter shuddered. He looked down at the ground, horrified by the thought of twenty-two dead for nothing .
“They’re still stuck between the skyscrapers,” Bucky noted. “That’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing. It’ll be easier to seal off the area and get people to safety.”
"Me, Sam, and Peter can take care of the civilians," Tony suggested. "The rest of you focus on Trason. When everyone is safe, we'll join you."
“Okay,” Steve nodded. “Everyone in?” There was a volley of approving grunts. “Fine. Give it your all and be careful. Now—let’s get him.”
There were three minutes left until arrival, and everyone was still checking their gear and getting their communicators working. Tony, whose suit was still in the corner of the plane, turned to Peter. He wrapped his right wing lightly around his body and placed the same hand on his shoulder. "Careful, okay? If he short-circuits your suit, pull back. I don't care if you can do it without Karen, just pull back - somewhere relatively safe, at best." Or to him.
Peter smiled at him and instinctively leaned into his touch—both his hand and his wings. He knew that Mr. Stark didn't show interest or concern often, so he cherished every moment and touch like this. "Sure, Mr. Stark."
"That's good." He removed his hand from his shoulder, but kept his wing around him until he put on his mask, then he retracted his wings and stepped into the suit, which stepped closer to him.
Soon they were descending among the skyscrapers of Detroit. While Clint maneuvered the quinjet to land, Steve, Bucky, Tony, Peter, and Sam jumped out before it even touched down.
They jumped into action, exactly as they had divided it up. It wasn't hard to get all the civilians out of the danger zone, after all, it had taken them a while to arrive and many people had already managed to evacuate to at least relative safety. The survivors - people who were afraid, or who couldn't get away because of William - were quickly carried out of the houses and streets by the three heroes, while the rest of the team kept their enemy busy.
However, as soon as William saw them, he stopped and laughed: "I can't believe it. They sent the Avengers at me ."
"Good thing you know who we are," Steve shouted back. "I have a suggestion: Why don't you volunteer to come with us and save us all the trouble?"
William responded with a blast of electricity aimed at Steve. Steve barely managed to dodge as the visible discharge burned the asphalt the Captain had been standing on.
"I think that means no," Natasha commented, activating her Bites as she ran, sending a blast of her own at Trason to distract him from Steve.
"Well, the hard way," Clint sighed. He sent an arrow in his direction, but it simply stopped short of the electric field Trason had spread around him. Hawkeye dropped his arms with a groan. "Damn, where's Thor when you need him?!"
"I can't get you Thor," Iron Mam said over the comms, "but I can join you. Falcone, Spider-Man, how are you?"
"Give me a moment... and I'll be back in the game with you." As proof, Falcon did a midair spin and headed towards Natasha.
“I have the last group,” Peter replied. He had come across a family of five with children trapped in a candy store, and now he was quickly leading them out to the police cars that had formed barriers around several blocks to keep Trason in as small a zone as possible.
Only when the last civilians were safe did he nod to the several police officers who stood around indecisively. "Make sure everyone's okay," he suggested, knowing that few would abandon their positions if he said, 'run to safety.' "We'll take over from now on."
He didn't wait for a response, instead shooting a web at the nearest building and swinging closer to the center of the action. "All civilians safe," he announced. "What's it like there?"
"We're fighting a guy with electricity running through his veins, and we can't even touch him. What do you think, huh?" Sam grumbled sarcastically.
Peter landed on the side of the skyscraper, where he had a good view of the fighting. "I guess no one has rubber gloves with them, do they?"
Several amused chuckles reached him through the comms. "You guessed right," Bucky growled as he managed to punch William in the ribs. He then cried out in pain as electricity shot through the metal arm he had used to hit William. He immediately flinched, his left arm hanging at his side. " Fuck ."
Steve immediately turned in his direction, though his gaze never left his enemy. "White Wolfe, are you okay?"
“Yeah. Just don’t raise your shield if you throw it at him. He’ll charge you with electricity.” Bucky hissed again. “I’ll need a moment to get my hand back in order.”
"Never mind, I'll take care of it for you." Peter straightened up, quickly calculated the correct trajectory in his head, and then shouted, "Hey, Pikachu!"
He ignored Tony's tired " Peter " that echoed in his ear, accompanied by laughter, instead bouncing off the skyscraper wall and shooting a web at Trason, who immediately turned in his direction, fury on his face.
His web, unlike Clint's arrows, had penetrated William's field. Once it had stuck to him, he swung around him to wrap his web around him. He took advantage of William's moment of confusion to kick him from the side under the ribs, where a layer of web was now covering him.
"Mr. Stark, I have an idea!" Peter blurted out. "Sew it into him with repulsors and electrical discharges."
"This is no use, Spider-Man," Clint snapped, slightly harshly, but Peter knew his anger stemmed from frustration with their enemy. "He'll just absorb the electricity from Widow's Bites and my electric arrows and become stronger."
"Well, I know!" the exclamation at the end caused William to jerk suddenly, which took Peter by surprise. He leaned against him and jerked back. "Why try to beat him? He must have a certain maximum of electricity that he can have in his body."
"Charge it enough to short-circuit or explode," Tony added thoughtfully. "That might work. Young man, you're—"
He heard no more, for William had finally released his hands from the web. He gripped the thread tightly around his body, and Peter could only think, "Oh my God!" as the electric shock shot through his semiconducting webs and into his suit. He felt an unpleasant tingling sensation on his skin, then his eyes flashed and his HUD disappeared, as did his connection to the team. The thrower settings automatically returned to their defaults, losing the rest of his possible combinations. Peter didn't mind, after all, that was how he had started and worked the most.
But before he could retreat back to safety, as he had promised Mr. Stark, he felt a tug on his right forearm and bicep, and then he was suddenly in the air, still rising, surrounded by black wings.
Black wings that weren't his.
William Trason byl –
"A raven," Peter heard Mr. Stark exclaim, for although he had no communicator and could not answer, his enhanced hearing was still working at full speed. "Of course he's a raven. What else would you expect from people like him?"
Peter broke out in a cold sweat, but it had nothing to do with Trason carrying him higher and higher. He couldn't even move, paralyzed by the words that were coming at him.
"There's a reason there are so many black-winged assassins," Sam added.
Murderers.
He knew this wasn't the time, he knew that, but the word made his heart stop for a brief moment and his throat tighten. He felt his mind become numb to all emotion, just as it did every time someone's actions or words hurt him.
And yet he flinched when he heard Steve shout his name. Despite his lack of emotion, he knew how to handle the situation, it was his duty – he couldn't let his feelings get in the way, he had to complete the mission.
Only now did he notice that the other Avengers had also spread their wings and were heading upwards, so the battle was moving to the sky. It also explained why he could still hear their voices, and he knew that the others were also relying on his super hearing.
"On my command you will escape Trason's clutches, do you understand?" the Captain shouted uncompromisingly in his commanding voice, which Peter's nature simply was not going to disobey. "Now!"
He didn't ask questions, he didn't hesitate, he just kicked his legs and punched. A jolt ran through his body as his fist collided with William's face and his legs hit his torso, but it was enough for William to loosen his grip, and then he didn't climb any further, but fell.
He saw a flash of light as Tony, Clint, and Natasha followed through on his plan and fired at William with all the electrical power they had, but he no longer cared if his idea had worked.
He was hurtling toward the ground. Without a parachute, because his suit was still offline, and as much as his wings twitched beneath his skin in a futile attempt to get out, to fly again after so many years, the words playing in his head— people like him, black-winged assassins —easily stamped that desire into the ground.
"Spider-Man! Spider-Man, use your wings! Peter!"
He didn't listen, not this time. It didn't matter how many people shouted at him, or that one of them was Mr. Stark, whom he listened to almost every time.
He just couldn't listen.
He was approaching the ground, not slowing down, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to panic. The numbness of emotions spread further through his mind, consuming him completely until he couldn't remember anything at all.
He knew he was about to pass out. The last thing he saw was Clint's familiar brown and white wings, along with Bucky's black and white, and he felt their hands on his body, but unlike William, their touch had a calming effect on Peter.
And that was enough for the unconscious to mercifully succumb.
~~~
He woke up slowly, but fully conscious. He knew he was lying in a room in the base's infirmary, he could tell by the regular beeping of the device that measured his pulse and the typical smell of disinfectant that always lingered there.
Still, he didn't open his eyes. He kept them closed and tried to keep breathing regularly so that the people around him wouldn't know he wasn't sleeping.
It was unnecessary, and he knew it all too well, especially as the six regular, familiar heartbeats reached his ears. He had no chance of pretending to be asleep in the company of at least three trained assassins, half agents.
He opened his eyes with a quiet exhale. His gaze was fixed straight ahead on the white ceiling, but he knew that sooner or later he would have to speak. “Did we get him?” he finally asked hoarsely.
All six adult Avengers moved, apparently waiting to see if he would say something himself, or if they would have to start.
"Why am I not surprised that this is your first question?" Tony broke the silence. "Yes, Peter, we got him. Trason was sent to prison, where he belongs. They're correcting his abilities there, so you don't have to worry about him escaping."
William's possible escape was the least of his worries at the moment, but he would never admit it out loud. He was of course glad they had caught him, but...
"How long have I been away?"
He heard Natasha lean against the wall as she replied, "Only a few hours. You went into shock after being electrocuted. You were exhausted from fighting your own wings and forcing them not to appear." The disapproval in her voice was clear.
Only now did he dig himself into a sitting position. He glanced briefly at everyone, but quickly lowered his eyes to the duvet as he read anger, worry, sadness – and in Mr. Stark's case, disappointment, which was probably the worst thing in the end – on their faces.
“Do you have anything to say about that, Peter?” Tony had his arms folded across his chest, his voice stern with despair at the situation.
"William was—is," Sam corrected himself, "dangerous. He could have killed you at any time. That fall could have killed you if Clint and Bucky hadn't caught you."
Steve, standing next to Sam, nodded. "The Blackwings are unpredictable, Peter. You didn't even fight back. It doesn't make sense."
His breath caught in his throat, his pulse jumped, which, thanks to the monitor, did not escape anyone's attention. "Inscrutable...?"
Sam stepped uneasily. "The raven is responsible for my partner's death."
"Obadiah was a raven," Tony said. "I thought I could trust him, but he betrayed me."
Peter didn't look up from the covers. Tears welled up in his eyes, afraid his voice would betray him when he spoke. He never thought the Avengers, his heroes, his family, would be subject to gossip and superstition.
And that hurt him. That hurt him so terribly. He was used to hatred, sidelong glances, and harsh words from strangers, but from people he considered his family?
He wouldn't be able to do that.
He couldn't handle it.
He didn't realize he was lost in thought until a hand landed on his shoulder. He tensed instinctively, not expecting the touch, and catapulted himself out of bed. He ripped the strap that was measuring his heart rate from his wrist, and the device began to beep furiously until Bucky turned it off.
It wasn't until a few seconds later, spent in complete silence, that he realized what had happened. He flinched away from Tony's hand, backing into the corner of the room, almost leaning his back against the window, and everyone in the room, in response to his unusual dash, pulled out their wings and half-spread them in a calming gesture.
But even that didn't calm him down this time. He doubted there was anything that could calm him down now. Just as he had before during the fight, a panic was beginning to take hold of him, and he couldn't control it by willpower alone.
“Peter…” Tony’s hand trembled slightly as he held it out to him. He moved cautiously, as if afraid he might scare him again. “It’s just you we’re all worried about. Especially when you’re fighting with yourself to keep us from showing us your wings, even if it means losing your life. Don’t you trust us?”
He blinked in a futile attempt to fight back the tears, but that only made it worse, and suddenly tears were slowly streaming down his cheeks. He shook his head furiously, trying to disprove his mentor's assumption. He trusted him with all his heart, he trusted them all with his life, and it devastated him that they thought otherwise.
He was on the verge of an emotional breakdown. He realized that if this discussion continued, he would no longer be able to hide from them what was under his skin. All those years of keeping his wings a secret had drained him emotionally and physically, because human wings simply weren't designed for concealment.
“Of course I believe you,” he said. Although his voice didn’t shake despite his tears, it sounded strange to himself.
Clint's wings fluttered as he asked gently, patiently, "So why are you hiding from us, Peter?"
Because I know that if I show you my wings, at least one of you will die.
Because then it would be my fault.
Because all corvids are murderers, whether they want to or not, and I am no exception.
He couldn't tell them anything that was going through his mind, but at the same time he had no other answer. What could he say that wouldn't be a lie? It would be hard to explain why he was afraid that when they saw his wings, they wouldn't want to have anything to do with him anymore.
His pulse quickened, the panic he had been resisting began to surge like a tidal wave under the onslaught of his thoughts.
It was only a matter of minutes, if not seconds.
He tapped the glass behind him with the fingers of his right hand; a signal for Friday to open the window behind him. He needed to get out of here before he—
"If it's just some teenage insecurities of yours, don't worry, Peter. You know we love you, whoever you are."
– late.
As soon as Tony's words had died down, he felt a tug on his back, and then his wings appeared at their full length. He hissed softly as several black feathers fell out of them, revealing old wounds and scars.
He couldn't keep his eyes on the ground. He glanced up at the team briefly when he heard their shocked gasps and jumpy heartbeats, and as soon as he saw their horrified expressions, he pulled his wings back to his body and turned his back on them.
No one said anything, and he didn't look back as he slipped out the open window, flapping his wings clumsily. It had been a good seven years since he had last flown, but despite his almost clumsy start, flying was a skill he hadn't forgotten.
For the first time in seven long years, he flew without once looking back.
No one followed him.
~~~
May knew immediately what had happened when her nephew walked through the door to their apartment in the middle of the night, his eyes red from still-flowing tears and his scarred wings drooping, dragging them along the ground.
She didn't ask anything, she just pulled Peter into her arms and hugged him tightly. She didn't care that Peter was holding her much harder than was comfortable, or that his grip would leave bruises.
She sat with him on his bed, whispering soothing words and soothing him until Peter fell asleep from exhaustion. Only when his grip had loosened did she carefully roll him onto his side so he wouldn't damage his wings, pull the blanket over him, and press her lips to his hair.
As she quietly closed the door to his room behind her, she stood in silence for a few seconds, wiping her own tears from her eyes.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened up and stepped away from Peter's door. Her gaze fell on the cell phone on the kitchen table. She walked a short distance, grabbed the phone, and unlocked it. Anger was boiling inside her.
She didn't even hesitate when she started dialing.
~~~
Tony stared blankly ahead, incapable of clear thought.
Actually, he wasn't the only one. They had all stood there as if scalded for a good few minutes, staring at the same spot, even though Peter had long since disappeared from their sight.
But he couldn't get Peter's scarred wings out of his mind, their black feathers glistening in the light. Crow wings that disfigured old and fresh wounds that hadn't healed properly.
Peter's wings.
Spider-Man was a crow.
Peter Parker was a crow.
It wasn't possible. It shouldn't have been possible, because how could it be? Peter always smiled, rejoiced in the little things, enjoyed life as much as he could, even though fate threw sticks at his feet.
He was sure that Peter's wings would be clean, unblemished. That they would be as colorful as his personality, large and soft to the touch.
He would never have imagined how wrong he was.
"We messed this up."
Clint's words seemed to snap them out of their trance. Everyone turned to him, eyes wide. Some gasped for breath to counter him, but nothing came out.
Because as much as they hated to admit it, Clint was right.
“We screwed up,” he repeated. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “We told him the blackwings were bad. That they were traitors and murderers. We told him that to his face.”
Bucky took a shaky breath. "We didn't know Peter..."
“That doesn’t excuse us,” Steve shook his head. He sounded disappointed in all of them and himself. “We all know what Peter is like.”
Natasha threw up her hands. "Oh, right!" she exclaimed. She was angry with herself for not putting two and two together, for not recognizing anything. "Peter is nice and kind and would give himself up for everyone."
They understood what he meant. They didn't know any raven, crow, or raven that even came close to Peter's temperament, but was that ever an excuse?
There was no doubt that their words had hurt Peter. They could see it in his eyes when he looked at them. Deep doe eyes filled with pain, hurt, and deep sorrow that were the complete opposite of the Peter they knew.
"There's no excuse for this," Tony finally croaked. His wings were wrapped around his body, the tips of his wings twitching with the desire to hug Peter, to tell him he still loved him, that he regretted his words. He wanted to beg for forgiveness more than ever.
Peter looked up to him, and he had indescribably disappointed him with his words and actions as a mentor.
"We screwed up big time," the billionaire continued. "And now Peter's gone and he probably thinks we hate him. There's really no excuse for that."
Silence fell. Neither of them knew what to do. They had no idea how to make up for what they had done, because a simple apology would never be enough in this.
They were the Avengers. They were supposed to protect the innocent out there. They fought people who thought they were something more because they had power, money, or strength.
But they too discriminated based on their wings, and what's more, they didn't realize until now how hurtful such words could be, even though none of them had it easy in their lives.
How were they different now from all those criminals out there they had encountered on the battlefields?
~~~
They stayed in that room for hours, but none of them noticed how time flew by. They couldn't bring themselves to turn around and leave, so they sat down on chairs, the floor, and the bed. Every now and then one of them stood up and moved from place to place, but no one spoke a word.
Until the silence was broken by the simple melody of an incoming call. Everyone flinched at the unexpected sound, then turned to Tony, who was holding the phone in front of him, all the color drained from his face.
He swallowed, answered the call, and raised the phone to his ear. "May—"
"Stark," May growled, forcing him to shut up immediately. She didn't scream, but spoke in a low voice, but that didn't take away from her terror or fury. "What did you do to my nephew that he collapsed in tears in my arms?"
"May, I'm sorry—"
“I don’t want to hear any of your stupid excuses!” she hissed. “I may not be a genius like you two, but I’m not stupid either. Peter flew home . He hasn’t flown since he was eight, and he doesn’t spread his wings at home either. I know something must have happened to risk anyone seeing him. I just want to know what .”
He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at anyone or anything as he answered. "William Trason, the man we fought, as you must have seen... He's a raven. And we, um, we said something like a lot of the blackwings were murderers and traitors, and, uh, when Peter came to himself here, we asked - damn, fucking - we asked if he... if he didn't trust us, which is why he hadn't shown his wings yet."
Hearing it out loud now made him want to slap himself even more. He squeezed his eyelids shut and exhaled to calm himself.
There was a long silence on the other end of the call, making Tony's blood run cold. "I was never a fan of yours, Stark," May said slowly, warningly, "especially when I found out you recruited Peter to fight against the other Avengers. Then I found out the truth about Spider-Man, and with that, I grew closer to you.
I trusted you to take care of Peter. You promised me he would be safe, that nothing would happen to him. You had one job, Stark. You promised it . But Peter is now struggling with something that has been with him his whole life. It took me years to convince him that crows aren’t just what everyone says, and he still thinks Ben’s death was his fault anyway.” May sobbed, her voice breaking at the end. The anger turned to despair, clearly evident in her voice.
She took a shaky breath, but continued, "Peter adores you. All of you. But you know what? I don't care if you're heroes, if you're trained agents or super soldiers. I won't let Peter be hurt like this." She spoke harshly now, uncompromisingly. She meant what she said, and Tony knew it. "You fix what you've done wrong, and do it fast. Otherwise, you'll see the last of Peter. All of you."
May ended the call and Tony just sat there for a few seconds, breathing, before finally opening his eyes and lowering his hand with the phone down. He was met with eager looks from the others. “Well?” Sam prompted.
Tony licked his lips. "What do you say we go tomorrow," he paused for a moment and glanced briefly at the time on his phone, "so they actually took a trip to Queens today?"
"That we would be really stupid not to take the only opportunity offered," Natasha replied, her eyes locked on his.
"Fine. We're leaving at nine today," Tony decided. Although he wanted to activate his Iron Man suit and go after Peter right away, he doubted that May would be thrilled to see them at two in the morning.
The only thing that lifted everyone from their positions was the hope that in a few hours they would have a chance to fix what they had ruined.
Neither of them wanted to come out of this fight as a loser.
~~~
To say they were nervous would be an understatement. They had entered the city surprisingly quietly, no one had noticed them, and soon they were climbing the stairs through the tenement house as a group.
May Parker had to admit that she didn't look surprised when six plainclothes Avengers knocked on her door at nine-thirty in the morning. She just crossed her arms over her chest and glared at them all. "One chance, Stark. If you screw up, I'll kick you out of here myself."
Sam, Clint, and Steve shuffled uneasily while Tony nodded gravely. May opened the door wide. “In that case, you can go.” She stepped back into the apartment and called over her shoulder, “Pete? Come into the living room, please.”
“Wait a minute!” A bang came from Peter’s room, then a curse muffled by the door. Then Peter carefully backed out of the room, his wings still outstretched. “What did you need…?” He trailed off, barely turning to see who was occupying their living room. “Um…”
May walked over to him and ruffled his hair briefly. "I'll be in my bedroom, okay? I'll let you talk." With that, she disappeared through the door.
They just stared at each other for a moment before Peter gestured nervously towards the couch. "Um… sit down if you want to…" There was silence again as the adults obeyed him and sat down on the couch and the two chairs around it. They stared at each other, and Peter only now noticed that everyone was watching his wings.
At that realization, he spread them slightly and then pulled them back to his body. "I can, um, hide them if you mind, or..."
"No!" they shouted in unison, causing Peter to take a step back. "No, Peter," Tony was the only one to repeat. "That's why we came today."
Peter tensed, fear flickering in his eyes, followed by resignation. He knew this was coming, he had been preparing for it since he woke up.
They were going to kick him off the team. He couldn't help but wonder, few could stand the presence of a crow for long. Now that they knew who he was, he doubted they would be willing to fight alongside him when he could bring them bad luck at any moment.
After all, who would want to have a messenger of death by their side on suicide missions?
"We would like to apologize to you."
He blinked in surprise, because he hadn't expected this. Quite the opposite, actually. He looked back at Mr. Stark, eyes wide. "Excuse me?"
"We shouldn't have judged by their wings," Steve replied seriously. "Just because we've had bad experiences doesn't mean all blackwings are the same."
"What we mean," Clint continued, "is that we know you, Peter. You don't have a bad cell in your body."
Peter furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He didn't know exactly where this was going, and he didn't like how it could still end.
Natasha rolled her eyes. She leaned back against the couch and leaned closer to him. "What we're trying to say is that what we said was inconsiderate and hypocritical. We didn't know how much we were hurting you."
He pulled his wings closer to his body at her words. Yes, their words hurt, especially since he hoped they might understand. Who else could accept him despite his black raven wings than a motley crew of heroes with their own experiences of hatred and misfortune?
Tony couldn't stand to sit still any longer and watch Peter silently ponder what their presence here might mean. He knew his charge well enough to know that he was most likely coming up with the worst-case scenario he could think of at the time, and that usually didn't bode well.
He approached him cautiously, and when Peter didn't move forward or backward, he took another step until they were only a meter apart. "Peter, we messed up and we're sorry. We know an apology won't fix it, but we have to try. Peter, I love you, okay? You may not think so now, but I don't care if you're a crow, I still love you. You're still the Peter I know, and that doesn't change.
We discriminated based on wings, just like the rest of the population, even though we are supposed to lead by example and avoid this at all costs. As Steve said, our bad experiences don't mean all blackwings are the same. Peter, we made a terrible mistake, and I will regret it until the day I die."
He took another step toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder carefully. Peter flinched slightly, but he didn’t move away from him, which he took as a good sign. “Pete,” he continued, “I’ve said some unkind things about blackwings, but that doesn’t mean they apply to you. I know you’re not like that, and I don’t mind that you’re a crow. It doesn’t change anything for me, I swear. I just hope I never judge by wings again.”
"Neither do we," a voice said from behind them.
“Never again,” Steve added. “I should never have started this in the first place.”
Natasha spread her wings in agreement. "I have nothing to say myself. With my former profession, I could easily have been a raven."
"I've killed more people than a lot of blackwings," Bucky agreed. "And I'm a buzzard."
There was a moment of silence as the others nodded in agreement. Peter watched them silently, his face so full of emotion that it was impossible to tell. “You really don’t mind my wings?” he finally whispered. His eyes were glassy with tears gathering in the corners of his eyes again, and his voice trembled with a desperate desire for them to be serious.
“No, Peter,” Tony shook his head. “It’s okay.”
"None of us," Sam added firmly. Just because the raven caused his partner's death didn't mean his relationship with Peter had changed.
Tony squeezed his shoulder tightly. "And I know we're asking a lot, but please... can you forgive us?"
Peter watched them for a moment. His heart was beating wildly, almost threatening to burst through his chest. There were so many emotions swirling inside him that he could barely identify them, but he knew he didn't hold any grudges against them.
Quite the opposite, actually. It warmed his heart to realize that the Avengers had put aside their prejudices for him, that despite their prejudices, they were willing to still be friends with him, that they loved him .
He had nothing to think about.
Slowly, hesitantly, he spread his wings to their full width. He left them for all the adults to admire, despite the scars and old wounds. He straightened up proudly when he saw the relief and joy on their faces at the gesture, and they followed his example and spread their wings as well. Not completely, because they had no chance of fitting into the living room like that, but the significance of their actions was enough for him.
Tony carefully touched the tips of his massive wings to his black ones, and when Peter didn't flinch from the movement, Tony pulled him into his arms and wrapped his wings protectively around Peter.
Peter hugged him back around the waist. He buried his head in his chest and exhaled contentedly. He felt Tony's wings covering his own, and warmth flowed through his entire body because it had been a long time since his wings had had contact with anyone else's.
"I love you, Peter," Tony murmured into his hair.
"I love you too, Mr. Stark," he whispered. And he meant it.
Then Tony let go of him carefully and pulled back to an arm's length. He looked into his eyes for a moment before his gaze slid to Peter's wings. "Um... could I?"
Peter bit his lip, but as soon as he saw the others eagerly leaning in to get a closer look at his wings, he nodded and turned his back on them.
A shiver ran down his spine as he felt several pairs of hands on his wings, but he remained motionless while his team examined the scars etched between the feathers.
He could hear their rapid heartbeats and their soft hisses as they noticed the jagged scars along his spine. "Peter," Tony's voice sounded strange as he tried to control his rising anger, "who tried to cut off your wings?"
He swallowed, glad he was looking ahead and not at them, because he wasn't sure how he would have answered them otherwise. "I was eight. Four of my classmates weren't exactly thrilled about the crow in the classroom."
He felt the atmosphere in the room change. He shook his head instinctively; he didn't want any pity. He had learned to live with it a long time ago.
Fortunately, the others sensed his nervousness, so Natasha gently ran her fingers along the deep, long scar in the middle of his left wing. "And who did this?"
“Toomes.” He glanced over his shoulder and flapped his wings slightly. He frowned as one feather broke free and spiraled downward. “He dropped a building on me. I couldn’t keep my wings under my skin.”
Tony clenched his hands into fists. "Toomes is lucky he's in prison."
Peter shrugged. "It's done. I won't change it."
Sam carefully ruffled his feathers and sighed in resignation. "You're too nice for your own good, Peter."
He just smiled at him. The next second he found himself in a hug again, but this time he was surrounded by the wings of his entire team.
Peter closed his eyes, but a naughty tear still escaped. He heard the soft creak of the door and opened one eye. He could barely see through all the wings and bodies, but he still recognized May standing in the bedroom doorway, her hands pressed to her heart and a wide smile on her face.
He wasn't even trying to hold back his tears now, but despite last night, today's tears were tears of joy and happiness.
~~~
Peter Parker was sixteen when he first walked down the hallway of his school with his wings spread, feeling no need to hide. He didn't care what his classmates or random passersby thought of him.
He knew that the people who cared about him didn't care what color his wings were or what the superstitions said. His family loved him for who he was and always had his back.
Because Peter Parker knew very well that the color, size, or type of wings did not determine what a person really was like deep down.