Chapter Text
Peter B. Parker could, 100%, picture landing in (yet another) alternate universe. You know what? As a matter of fact, he expected it.
What he didn’t plan for, however, was being stranded in another universe with his baby girl strapped to his chest.
But here he was, crouched in a narrow alley in the darkest corner of Gotham City, New Jersey. From the name alone, Peter knew he landed himself in a section of the Multiverse Miguel had expressly labeled as off limits. It wasn’t his fault he’d landed here, though!
One minute he’d been web-swinging through New York, enjoying a rare peaceful day with Mayday babbling happily, and the next he was crash-landing onto a grimy rooftop in fucking New Jersey. It was like all the worst parts of New York turned up to eleven and none of the good, all shadows and towering gargoyles. The interdimensional bracelet he’d been given to travel the multiverse was sparking and smoking in his pocket— totally toast. He was officially, undoubtedly, stranded.
Ok, so it maybe, kinda sorta, been an eensy weensy, tiny bit Peter’s fault.
Peter’s, very high-tech and likely expensive bracelet had been, uh, scratched in a fight the day before. Barely even a nick! He swears he could’ve reattached the wires and fixed the screen. And find the chunk Mayday threw out the window.
He probably should’ve also taken the watch out of his robe pocket before he started swinging Mayday to daycare.
MJ was going to be so mad.
It became evident early on it’d take a little bit to find a way home, or for someone to find him. If it had just been Peter, he could’ve roughed it on some roofs and abandoned buildings. It wouldn’t be a big deal, he knew he would be getting home eventually. Being a little smelly was the least of his worries.
But he had his baby girl with him.
So, with the money in his wallet, he found an under-the-counter, rundown but otherwise warm, apartment in a place called Crime Alley, of all things. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy. His neighbor was nice enough, occasionally even watching Mayday. Only after passing The Vibe Check, and an extensive resume of watching the other Alley kids, of course. Peter was also eighty percent sure he was part of that Red Hood crimelord dude’s gang, but this place was so ass Peter considered asking what the benefits were.
Not like he was gonna stick around long enough to care about a criminal record, right?
To make ends meet, Peter pulled together whatever side gigs he could. Fixing appliances, tuning up electronics, just enough to get by. Even for a guy who was used to scraping by, the situation felt bleak, especially with Mayday depending on him. He’d been broke and starving plenty of times, but he never wanted his daughter to have to endure something like this.
His little red-headed whirlwind was still too young to understand what was happening, but she noticed the absence of her mother and the tension of the city. It broke his heart when she started clinging to him more tightly, not even wanting to crawl and explore every nook and cranny like she used to. Peter knew he couldn’t keep this up forever, but he wasn’t sure how to trust anyone in a city that had both criminals and rogues and freaking crimelords lurking around every corner.
The first couple times he’d seen the capes of this city, he’d tried to wave them down for help. Besides, well, predictably being ignored because he was in civvies, their reputation with metas wasn’t exactly… flattering.
Apparently, because this place couldn’t fucking suck enough, half of a distract called “Robbinville” had been almost entirely destroyed by hypnotized ‘metas’ a couple weeks before Peter ended up in this hell hole. Which, albeit, made consistent construction work for Peter, but left the city on a ‘We hate Metas!’ high that was deeply concerning for a dad and his daughter who, technically, meet this world's definition for metas. Even if they were technically mutates. Y’know, if he’s getting technical. Which he is. Thank you.
So he decided the smart choice was probably steer clear of the “No metas in Gotham!” guy and his weird brood of birds. (Peter says, as though he doesn’t have his own mismatched colony of spider-teens.)
But unfortunately predictable for Peter, the Bats noticed him regardless.
It was hard to notice a single dad with no records, no job, and no explanation for why he was squatting in Gotham’s most dangerous neighborhood. That was every other guy in Gotham, if he’s honest.
What gets harder to not notice is the weird amount of crimes Peter just so happened upon. Muggings, attempted assaults, helping that Red Hood guy’s men out of a pickle that one time by coincidence because he was on his way to go pick-up Mayday from the daycare his neighbor, Jason, had recommended.
Look, it’s not his fault that they were definitely going to die because no one could figure out the Riddler’s riddles. Also, there were a lot of civilians. And the rest of the bats were sent on a wild goose chase deactivating bombs placed around the city. So, Peter kinda just… did it for them.
He’s been a vigilante for over two decades at this point. This Riddler guy was basically a baby. Coming from the man with a baby strapped to his chest more often than naught.
But goddamn did he regret it sometimes. Those pesky metaphobic bats and birds were basically up his ass. He was rarely not being stalked.
He didn’t mind too much on the days he had to drop Mayday off at the daycare. One always stayed behind to watch her. It made him feel a little better and so much worse at the same time. How paranoid were these guys that they stalked a literal baby?
Geez, did Peter need to take a laxative to get these guys off his ass or what.
—+—
Bruce was keeping his eye on a new… variable. He wasn’t sure how else to refer to this ‘Peter’ guy, who routinely stepped in when they were too late with all the finesse of, well, one of them.
Jason, who lived next to him in Crime Alley, wasn’t thrilled about the idea. “The guy’s the smartest dumbass I’ve ever met,” he groused. “And I know Tim.” Tim flipped him off.
“But, no, seriously, who willingly moves to Gotham’s worst crime district, with a baby? Plain irresponsible.” Jason complained as though he didn’t babysit kids in the Alley for free.
Tim, on the other hand, was fascinated by the mystery. He dug through every database he had access to, and then some. But a “Peter B. Parker” returned zero results— at least, none that matched this Peter Parker. No criminal record, no birth record, no online footprint. It was like he just spawned in!
Dick didn’t have a whole lot of opinions. He thought he was a decent man trying to do right by his daughter, though he had only met him once in a routine mugging. That Peter was stopping. He evidently cared for his daughter, and matched Nightwing’s wit and humor pretty nicely, too. He looked annoyingly familiar too. Maybe it was Tired Dad Chic? He kind of reminded him of Bruce, in a way.
Steph seconded the funny part. This Peter guy could be one of those dark-humor comedians. Dude was hilarious. (no one else agreed with Steph or Dick.)
From what they observed, and conversations supplied by Jason, Peter really did seem to just be a part time Ordinary Guy. He had a few quirks, and his daughter was definitely a meta, but he hadn’t done anything bad.
Yet, Bruce would tact on unhelpfully.
Then one night, Peter was picking up groceries from a corner store when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find a man in a ski mask brandishing a knife, gesturing for his wallet. All in all, compared to a lot of his past (attempt) muggings, this was was rather polite. Eight out of ten.
“Hand over the money, an’ this won’ hafta get messy.” The man threatened, waving his knife around in a manner Peter assumed was supposed to be threatening. Peter tensed, dropping his groceries in favor of cradling Mayday closer.
Peter blinked at him tiredly. “The best I can offer is some lint and a can of beans.” He strategically shifted Mayday away, allowing her to crawl and stick to his back.
The man tensed, stepping closer in an attempt at intimidation. Peter thought that the way his face turned red with anger was kind of funny.
“Don’t fuckin’— are you makin’ fun of me?” The man fumed. Peter might have let out a sleep-deprived chuckle, partially forgetting to respond. He’s on his third— or fourth? All nighter.
The mugger lunged, and boy was this embarrassing for Peter. Listen, he knows he’s got the whole enhanced shebang, along with an insanely OP spidey-sense. But in this moment, all his years of experience and genetic legos flushed down the toilet in the face of sleep deprivation and starvation.
So, yes, before he could dodge, Peter felt a searing pain in his side as the blade plunged in. He swallowed, feeling nauseous. Normally, Peter would’ve disarmed the guy without breaking a sweat, but tonight, with Mayday on his back and his body worn from days of mini glitches because he’d sooner glitch before ever allowing Mayday to go through that, he kind of just… blinked and the knife was there.
Peter blinked again, then looked back up at the man.
“Oh, wow,” he said, his voice dripping with deadpan sarcasm. “A knife in Crime Alley? Super original. Really, I’m honored to be a part of your creative process.”
The mugger blinked, clearly caught off guard. Peter rolled his eyes, adjusting Mayday to better apply pressure to his side. “Next time you stab a guy, maybe aim for someone with insurance.”
The mugger stumbled back, looking increasingly confused by Peter’s lack of fear. Peter sighed, bouncing Mayday gently as she began to fuss. “Listen, I’m already running on no sleep and the caffeine fumes of yesterday’s coffee. And now you’re just making my night even worse.” Peter flippantly waved the mugger off.
He winced, feeling the slow but consistent leak of blood. His healing factor was helping, but not by much in his current state.
Between another one long blink and the next, someone had jumped down and knocked out Peter’s ex-mugger. What can he say? He’s never been the best at relationships.
After another blink Peter realized he was on the ground, Mayday’s wails filled the air, her cries echoing down the alleyway, and Peter tried to smile through the pain. She’d thankfully situated herself beside her father, instead up squished under him.
“It’s okay, baby,” he mumbled, trying to cup her cheek but only succeeding in smearing his blood across her cheek. “Daddy’s fine… just a little… scratch.” But his vision was going hazy as he pressed a hand to his bleeding side. Wow, he forgot how much he hated stab wounds. He’d take blunt force trauma over this shit any day of the week.
One of the vigilantes that Peter recognized as Red Robin rushed over, talking hurriedly into a comm. Peter blinked up at him, his mouth curling into a weak smile. “Hey, nice costume,” he muttered. “Does the utility belt come in dad sizes?”
Red Robin blinked in surprise, but otherwise kept his focus as he worked to stop the bleeding.
He paused, “It does, actually.” Red Robin offered, popping open his emergency med kit. “I’ve got help on the way, ok? Stay awake for me.” But his attention was snagged when Mayday, overcome with distress, reached out to him, her tiny hands gripping his arm. She wasn’t just clutching it— she was sticking to him, her fingers locked like suction cups on his suit. Red Robin’s eyes widened as she scrambled up his arm, scaling it like a bug on a wall.
Red Robin took it in stride, scooping Mayday up as he continued to work. Peter had been on the Meta radar for a bit— a few things here and there just a little off, and it was mostly based on Red’s time spent with super-powered individuals.
But as he patched up Peter, he discreetly swiped a sample of blood, stashing it in his belt just as the Batmobile pulled up.
—+—
Later that night, he ran the sample through the Batcomputer, expecting some small lead. A Meta, possibly insect-based? What with how the kid had stuck to him. Instead, the results left Tim absolutely speechless.
Peter Parker, the man who was in his late thirties and a single father, didn’t just match someone in the system— it matched Dick Grayson.
Not as an uncle, or a brother, or a cousin, or even a clone, but as a son.
Tim must’ve ran the test at least 100 times. It came back the same every single time.
Tim called Bruce and the rest of the family, each of them crowding around the screen with varying levels of shock and amusement as the analysis rolled in. Dick was dumbfounded, staring at the results in disbelief.
“You’re telling me this guy is my… son?” he stammered, struggling to wrap his mind around it.
Bruce, socially unaware in all his glory, tried to comfort Dick. “He’s likely from far into the future. Barry said there was a ripple in the timestream around the time Peter must’ve showed up.”
“So what does that make Maybelle?” Jason asked, snickering.
“His granddaughter?” Steph said with a teasing grin.
“Wow, Dick. You went from a dad to a grandpa in the same minute.”
“That’s gotta be a world record.”
“You think we can submit this for a Guinness World Record?”
Dick groaned, rubbing his temples as Jason laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
“He’s from the future, right? Something must’ve gone wrong on his end," Tim said, folding his arms with a thoughtful look. "He’s definitely got the skills. There were times he moved like you.”
Dick couldn't help but smirk, puffing up a little with pride. “Of course he does. He’s got Grayson blood in him, after all.”
Jason snorted. “Yeah, because the whole ‘falling on his face with a baby strapped to him’ bit? So graceful.”
Tim rolled his eyes, trying to stay on track. “Look, I don’t know why he didn’t come to us for help in the first place, but the point is, he’s technically family. We should get him back to his time, if that’s even possible.” He looked over to Bruce. “Are any speedsters available? Maybe the League could lend us Wally or Barry—"
“Hold on,” Dick interrupted, frowning. “I’m not sure we’re ready to ship him off just yet. The guy’s been trying to make it on his own. He’s got a baby to look after, and I think he’s afraid of dragging us into whatever’s going on with him. You know this family and their pride.”
Damian, who had been silent up to this point, finally piped up, his arms crossed. “I’ve seen him with the baby. He’s… adequate." There was an almost begrudging respect in his tone. “But he clearly doesn’t have the resources to keep her safe here. If he did, he wouldn’t be living next to Todd.” Okay, could’ve just said Crime Alley, but that works too.
Dick nodded. “Exactly. Obviously he thought he could get home without asking us for help.”
Bruce, listening intently, finally spoke up. “He’s right. Until we find a way to get him home, Peter and his daughter stay here.” He says, as though he didn’t just want to hold the baby.
Steph and Tim shared a look. He just wanted to meet his grandson and great-granddaughter.
There was a beat of silence as everyone absorbed the decision, and then Tim looked at Dick, a small smirk playing on his lips. “So… you ready to be a dad, Dick?”
Dick flushed, looking a mix of horrified curious. “I’ll just stick to ‘Dick’ for now. Baby steps.”
EXTRA:
“Hey,” Jason drawled, barely suppressing a smirk as he looked over at Dick, “you think we can submit this for a Guinness World Record? Awkwardest cross-dimensional parenthood, or maybe most confusing family reunion? You might even have the Allen’s beat with this one.”
Dick rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite hide his grin. “Very funny, Jay. Maybe we can submit you for most inappropriate comments per minute.”
Jason looked at him, mirth in his eyes and glee in his heart, “Just saying, man, it’s impressive. One day you’re Nightwing, acrobat golden boy, and the next? Boom— you’re the proud father of a scruffy, inter-dimensional— what'd you say it was, Tim? Spider-dad? A Spider-dad.”
Tim snickered, glancing up from his laptop. “We’re all just living in a 'Strangest Family Reunion’ reality show at this point. Besides, if anyone’s submitting to Guinness, it should be Peter for barely flinching at that stabbing. It was serrated and everything.”
Bruce cleared his throat, giving them all a look. “Enough. This isn’t a joke. We have a situation to handle here.”
Dick ran a stressed hand through his hair. How else are you supposed to react to apparently his son, from the future, who is the same age as Bruce, ending up here with his freaking granddaughter. This family was fucking nuts, man.