Chapter Text
The wind was warm in Manhattan. The hot sun that abused the concrete city finally moved over for the moon. Many people ran home from jobs or school, the busy city alive with movement. Excited to get home so that they can be safe in their own space. It was loud though. The streets are flooded with noise from machines and people alike. It could be seen as overwhelming but to people who have lived there for their whole life, it was a comfort. A comfort like hot apple pie or a warm blanket on a rainy day.
For others, the night was not welcome. The warm breeze that calmed so many was not good. The noise hurt but was a constant in their life. Peter lay on his floor. Stretched out and stared at his ceiling. Making his mind wanders freely. He just wanted everything to stop. Just wanted everything to stop for just a second. When he was a kid, he used to beg for moments like thoughts. He was no longer a kid though; he knew that those breaks he so desperately wanted. It will never happen. As he grew up and he saw the world for what it truly was. Ugly and evil. He wished he could fight the world like he did so many villains. He knew that he would win if he was completely healthy. Ha, that's a joke. He can't afford medicine, and the spider thing does most of the work anyway.
He was hungry. He paused from his thoughts to contemplate if he had eaten anything today that was an actual meal. He knew that he had a hot dog from a vendor this morning when he was heading back from patrol. He wished he saved it though. Made it last longer. Have it as food for right now.
He slowly stood from the floor to ransack his kitchen. Only to find… Absolutely nothing. Expired chicken and milk, then fruit that was nothing but mold at this point. His stomach hurts. It growled in anger at him. He was too tired to be angry or sad. He wanted to be angry. It was so much easier than this numb feeling he grew accustomed to. He wanted to smoke.
When he made it out to the fire escape, outside his crappy little apartment. He took out a lighter and Cigar. He lit it then put it up to his mouth, breathing deeply. The exhale was better than this morning. The days worry washing away in waves. Coming off him with the smoke from his mouth. He breathed again and closed his eyes. For the first time today, he felt okay. He wasn't mad. He wasn't numb. He felt alive. He felt like he could go on another day. He opened his eyes to the sunset, or what could be seen from his apartment.
It was pretty. The way the colors danced around until evening out into the dark sky. The golden light of the sun still trying desperately to block out everything. He could relate. To try so hard, just for the world to win every day. But like the sun. He must rise again the next day. The sun does it willingly. He wishes he didn't. It would have been so much easier. To just go in your sleep. He couldn't do that though. The city needed him. More than ever.
After the shock of the blip happened, the city went on with its regular business. Except for the fact that there was more crime because the world went to shit and apparently that means you can do whatever you want. Laws and the justice system aren't a thing anymore. He wished more cops did their jobs. His job would be so much easier. He had a lot to take care of. The whole city.
A lot of the superheroes are gone so Peter tried to Patrol their sections he knows that Daredevil and Deadpool got dusted. He saw Dr. Strange get dusted when they were in space. He has worked with Jessica Jones a few times, but she only cared about her stuff. So, he had to take most other places. What was left if the Avengers moved out of New York. Luke Cage got dusted while Ironfist went back to K’un L’un. He worked with Ironfist for a couple of years until he decided that his home needed him to rule. Makes sense, he guessed. He has met moon night on a couple of occasions, but he only does what that moon god tells him to do. AKA, he's international.
Whatever small time superheroes got dusted. He was alone. With all of New York to save. It was a lot. He couldn't be everywhere even when he tried to be. He worked tirelessly to try to get everywhere but he just couldn't. He hated himself for that. The lives he could have saved if he were just a bit faster, just a bit more aware. It would haunt him to his grave. How many people called out his name and he could not get there? Too many. God, too many.
He took one last smoke before putting it out on the railings. He crawled through his window then under his bed. He took out the trunk and slipped on his suit. It was a bit worse to wear. A couple of tares here and there. It had to be cleaned. He thinks he did good remaking it. He had to make a new one when his other one grew too small. He kept the main design but made it more intense; the colors were darker but not too much. He was still their Siderman. He had to be recognized after all.
He headed out for the night after locking his door. Leaving his window slightly cracked so he could come back later. He hoped that he would score some food again. That would be a nice night. He jumped off his fire escape and swung into the dark night. Ready for whatever horrors awaited him.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
He crawled into his cold apartment with a bleeding head. He was confused by it. A cut like that should have been healed by now. He thought it was little. A little metal bat hit his forehead, a little scratch. He could feel it bleeding, running down the sides of his face, but why didn't it heal yet? Not to mention that the stupid bat gave him a headache. You better believe that he tied up that particular robber up high. Extremely high. Like maybe from the bank's roof. But he knew that he would not fall until the police officers got there. He was being safe… Enough.
He turned on the TV and went to the bathroom to check for severe damage. The early morning news just had the same stories it always did. At least for the blip he now no longer had JJJ yelling about how he was a menace and a criminal all day every day. In some sentimental way, he actually missed that Bulldozer. Crazy huh. He missed the way he used to mock JJJ and the relationship they had.
He took off his mask and looked in the mirror. He wasn't bleeding like he originally thought. It just felt like it was. A drippy, oozing cut, a bright red was going along his face. He had a small red mark on his forehead instead of what he thought was there. He was happy about it. Nothing is too bad. Even if he were bleeding, his mask would hide it. Nice thing about red. No one can see blood. If it were still there later, he would make up an excuse for his coworkers.
He peeled off his suit and tossed it in the laundry. He would do it before he had to go out again. It needed to be cleaned, and he needed to fix some parts. He put his needles and thread somewhere. It was just a matter of finding it. He took a shower. A cold one. He loved taking cold showers. They were so refreshed after patrol. The frost took his limbs slowly and calmed his mind. It was amazing. One of his favorite parts of coming back from patrol alive. The relief from a cold shower.
After he was done cleaning himself, he changed into his PJ’s. A little on the nose that they were spiderman themed, but they were comfortable and cheap. Sue the guy. He turned off the lights and locked his window. He turned off the tv and looked at his alarm clock. 4:02. He had work at nine. He could get four hours of sleep. He was disappointed; he usually tried to get at least five. Oh, well. He will do better tomorrow. Come back a bit sooner. And tomorrow was a Wednesday, work was at 2 pm. Plenty of time. He gladly shut his eyes and went to sleep. Collapsing in his warm bed. He drifted off sweetly.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
He woke his stupid alarm screaming at him to get up. He begrudgingly turned it off before getting out of bed. He stretched before reaching for his phone that was charging on the floor. He opened it to a flurry of messages. Most of them are from Maddie. His best friend and co-worker. They have worked at the same restaurant for years now. He was the drink maker; she was the server. She also lived a couple of doors down from his apartment. He scrolled to the top one.
TURN ON THE NEWS NOW.
He clicked on the TV. To the news channel. He listened intently to what they were saying.
“This Tina Baker, good morning. In case you have yet to know, mere hours ago everyone who got dusted has gotten back. There are multiple people searching for their homes, loved ones, and their life before. If you are missing anyone, please reach out and find them. A statement from the Avengers states that an anonymous source gave them plans for time travel, and they went back to get the stones in time. After all was assembled, a vicious battle ensued then they snapped. We are all back now. The world is back now. The Hulk sacrificed his arm in order to bring everyone home. Celebrations today are happening all over the world in honor of these valiant heroes. Now, we have someone with a live interview, and footage of people coming back. Gaby, what d-”
He stopped listening. The remote dropped from his hand.
It worked. His plans worked. They used his plans. They used it correctly. They got everyone back. Everyone is back. Everyone is back! The people were back.
His smile stopped. He didn't have anyone. Again. His friends would go back to high school. He dropped out of high school so that he could work. They aren't the same anymore. They will have their own lives, and he is just some dude that knew them five years ago. The avengers probably forgot about him. With all the life coming back. He was still alone. He had Maddie and her son. That was good, he guessed. He wanted his family back. He knew that that couldn't happen.
He read all of Maddie's Texts.
TURN ON THE NEWS NOW
I swear to god if your asleep
Peter answer
Peter?
My god what will we do with you
I’m not going to be in today and I hope you aren't either
I’m taking Boe to see some old friends of his
Thought it would cheer him up y’know
See you later tonight
Call Alex if you're not going to be at work
The other text was from Alex himself.
Are you going to be at work today? I understand if your
not. Just let me know.
Peter sat there for a while, should he go to work? He had some tasks to do today, and he could use this as an excuse. Yet he also needed the money. He would find another way. He’s missing one day. That is not too much compared to some of the others. He sighed and texted back.
Yeah sorry. Missing work today. Got family stuff.
He was lying.
He doesn't have any family left. He took a deep breath and got dressed. He put on an old pair of dark jeans, a dark green shirt, then his old black long coat. He would wash his coat when he did the laundry. It would be much too hot for a coat when the sun came blazing down later in the day. He grabbed a pack of cigars and his lighter. He went outside to the fire to escape and sat down against the wall. Lighting the cigarette and breathing deeply as the smoke filled him.
It was still early. The sun was above the horizon but not by too much. It was a lovely day. Fitting day that everyone came back on. It was a bit too bright for him to really like the day. It didn't match his mood. A mix of anger and sadness. Everything felt too chirpy. Too surreal. This was it now? Everyone is just back now? Everything was going to go bad. Crime, homelessness, so much will be disrupted.
A deep breath made him slightly cough. He put out the cigarette then went back inside. He grabbed his laundry bag, wallet, phone, headphones, and keys. He slipped on some old shoes and locked his window.
Heading out felt surreal as well. It was bright. It was happy. Like the last five years, it has never happened. Like he was never struggling. Like Aunt May would be around the corner, ready to give him a hug. She never would have thought. She was dead. For the past five years she has been dead. There was nothing he could do about her death. He made time travel, but he never thought it would work. He gave it to the avengers to see what they thought of it. But they actually did it. They did what he told them to. It was insane.
The laundromat was empty that morning. He liked it empty. A silent space to just sit and listen to music and wash clothes. He paid for the washer and separated his whites and his spiderman suit from the rest of the clothes. He sat on the washer next to it then listened to his music. Enjoying the soothing feeling as the music went through him in waves, going right threw his core.
He did the tedious task for about two hours. By the time he left with clean clothes, the sun was baking him. He was thankful that he washed his coat and put it in his laundry bag. It was going to be a muggy day.
He walked to his apartment and dropped off the clothes before heading to the corner market a couple blocks away. He hoped that it wouldn't be too busy. Right to his wish, it was not too busy. The sellers were still there. Some new people were there, though. Their family that got blipped most likely. He tried not to grimace and went on with his shopping. Avoiding looking at happy people selling the food. He forced a smile when needed to be, but besides that. He minded his business and shopped as fast as he could.
He bought eggs, bread, chicken, milk, cheese, cereal, a couple of spices, protein shakes, and a whole lot of vegetables. It was good. Filled up his fridge and a bit more of his stomach. He would cook dinner more. He got most of his lunch free from the restaurant he worked at. He usually just had a little something in the morning. He was so happy that he went shopping. He wouldn't be too hungry until maybe a week or two. When he got home, he would make grilled cheese. That sounded so good right now.
He savored the walk though. He was in a better mood than when he woke up. He was walking, doing tasks he desperately needed to be done. It was a pretty day. Hot as hell, but pretty, nonetheless. He arrived at his building and headed up the stairs, thankful for the cool air conditioning. He fiddled with his bags going for his keys that he put in his jean pockets. When he finally looked up, he saw a man at his door. Leaning against the wall with his back to Peter. He had his black hood pulled over his head, and a slouched posture. Peter was confused. Who is this guy? Peter got closer to his door then cleared his throat. The guy looked up from looking at the floor, then turned to face him.
To say he was shocked was an understatement. He thought he was dreaming, seeing someone for someone else. But no. When he removed his hood, he was still right there. Tony Freaking Stark was standing in front of his door, with a goofy grin on his face. Peter stepped back and rubbed his face, not believing his eyes.
What was Tony doing in front of his door? His mentor's smile faltered for a moment when Peter stepped back. It came back easily when he noticed that Peter was watching him.
“Mr. Stark?”