Chapter Text
There was nowhere in the world like Queens, New York. For better or for worse. This was the only home that Peter had ever known, and he loved all the people here. Yes, even the homeless druggies despite how many times they swung broken beer bottles at him.
“Alright, then. Your total will be $7.38.” The cashier said. Peter fished around in his pocket until he found his money. He handed the person six dollars, five quarters, and three dimes. “You’re short eight cents.”
“Yeah, I-I know, hold on.” He felt around his pockets, desperately hoping for another coin.
All he was getting was a bag of chips and a bottle of soda. He really wasn’t the biggest soda fan, but on days like these, caffeine was a necessity. Couldn’t be falling asleep on patrol after all. And the chips were because he was starving. It wasn’t a lot, but at least it was something to eat. Besides, it was all he could afford. Or, well, maybe not.
“I don’t think I have any more change on me, sorry.” Peter said.
“Maybe you should buy only one of them.” The cashier suggested, clearly trying to be nice despite the apathy in their eyes. “Which one do you wanna take off?”
Peter stared at the bag and the bottle like it was life or death. His eyes burned, he really thought he might fall asleep if he leaned against something for too long. But also, his stomach was growling. He hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, and with his super quick metabolism, that was very not good.
Just then, a man came in who reeked of cigarette smoke. The man walked past, looking exhausted, and walked behind the counter. When he saw Peter, he did a double take.
“Hey, kid, you’re Peter Parker, right?” He asked.
“Uh…” A shock of anxiety ran down his spine. “Yup. That’s me.”
“You tutored my kid that one time, you’re the only reason she passed the 8th grade final.” He said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love that girl, but she was so far behind she never would’ve passed without you.”
“Oh, it was no problem.” Peter said, a sheepish grin blooming on his face. “Rosie’s smart, she just needed a little help.”
“You even remembered her name?”
“Of course.”
The man nodded approvingly. “You’re a good kid.” He said. Then, he looked down at the counter then over at the screen. Wordlessly, he opened his wallet, pulled out another dime, and set it with the money that Peter had already given the cashier.
“Thank you!” Peter said, eyes lighting up. The cashier finished the transaction, sliding Peter’s items closer. He grabbed them, having to remind himself not to squeeze them too hard in his excitement. “Thank you so much. Hey, if Rosie ever needs any more tutoring, I’m always around!”
“Get going, kid.” The man waved him off dismissively.
Items in hand, he rushed out of the store, beaming. Peter went a block or two away from the store then into a back alley so he could crawl up the wall unseen. Ever since the bite, he preferred to eat at higher elevations. Meaning on roofs or bridges. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t question it too hard either.
You see, this is why he loved Queens. The people here were so diverse, and sure, a lot of them had the stereotypical New Yorker ‘mind my own business and mean mug everyone’ attitude, but there was also never a shortage of people who were willing to help others out. This city was alive and all the people in it were vibrant like colorful birds in a stone jungle.
“Ooo, that’s good, I should write that down.” Peter said. He reached into his pocket for his phone. But right as he grabbed it, his phone started vibrating and an alarm started going off. He looked down at the alarm’s title. ‘Chemo Appointment’. “Oh shoot!”
He hops up, screwing the cap onto the bottle and rolling up the top of his chip bag. Then, he started running. Peter stuck to the roofs as much as he could before he risked being spotted by someone down below. Only then did he begrudgingly make his way down to the street and kept running for the condo on the east part of this area.
By the time he got there, he was winded. He lifted the pot growing a sunflower and grabbed the spare key from under it. And when he entered the apartment, it was dark and stuffy.
“Ms. Tisdale!” He called. He hurried down the hallway to her door, knocking on it. “Sorry I’m a bit late, but we have to get ready.” It was quiet for a while before he heard shuffling from the other side of the door. “Ms. Tisdale?”
“Come in.” She called.
He opened the door. Her room was a wreck. Peter really had to come over to clean at some point, he was just so busy recently. Guilt swamped him.
“Do you want me to get you anything?” Peter asked. “Water? Food? Your shoes?”
“I’m fine, Peter. Thank you.”
“No problem. I’ll wait by the door.”
He wandered out of the room and back to the door. Ms. Tisdale was Aunt May’s friend. When Aunt May died, Ms. Tisdale offered to take him in, and Peter might’ve accepted if she hadn’t recently been diagnosed with cancer. There was no way in hell that he’d make this poor woman take him on as a responsibility after losing her best friend and being diagnosed with a very scary disease.
Soon enough, the bedroom door opens again and Ms. Tisdale comes out, dressed and ready. He held the door open for her then made sure to lock it behind them. Peter put the key under the pot and then trotted ahead of Ms. Tisdale to keep an eye out for any trouble.
“Boy, have you been eating?” She asked, sass bleeding into her tone. Honestly, it was good to hear. In recent weeks, she’d been too exhausted for sass or backtalk. “How’re you ever going to get a woman when you look like you eat sleep for dinner?”
“I’ve been eating, Ms. Tisdale. Just got a very busy schedule.” He said, unable to help his grin.
“Good, you’d better be. You need lots of energy for that big ass brain and bleeding heart.” She said with that familiar air of confidence.
He led her to the bus stop and they took it as close to the hospital as they could. On the way there, she lectured him about brushing his hair while fussing with it to try and get the knots out and tried once again to get him to take on sewing as a hobby while ranting disapprovingly about fast fashion and rampant consumerism. The familiarity was so nice. With how crazy his life had been recently, he needed this reminder of how things used to be.
When they got there, she was pretty much immediately taken back (because they were nearly late), and Peter was left alone in the lobby. These sessions could take anywhere from three hours to five hours, so he had time to kill. He sat there, finishing his chips and soda, while completing his homework. His body was twitching with impatience, eager to get out onto the streets as Spider-Man, but he couldn’t do that until he knew Ms. Tisdale was home safe and sound. Once again, he found himself glad that he opted to buy himself a soda because this was shaping up to be a very long night.
-
Peter drops onto the fire escape, wincing as his twisted ankle sparked with pain. Then, he grabbed the bottom of the window and pushed it open. He stumbled into the dark room, closing the window behind him.
He pulls off his mask and gloves, kicking off his shoes. And then, he collapses face-first into the cool bed. He groans, glad to finally take the pressure off of his ankle, he had rolled it when he landed awkwardly on patrol. It’s nothing a good night of sleep couldn’t fix, but it was still annoying. Slowly, tension eases from his shoulders.
The neighbors to his left always had their TV on. Even if no one was home, even if everyone was asleep, that TV droned on and on endlessly. But honestly, Peter didn’t mind it, it was kind of comforting. He let his eyes slide closed as he tried to pick out the words of the show’s host, falling asleep rapidly.
Ping!
He opens his eyes with a groan. Peter reaches lazily for his backpack, grabbing it by the top strap and pulling it onto the bed to unzip it. He grabbed his phone out and unlocked it to check the message.
DP to Spider, August 2nd:
DP:
Hey, Señor Araña, wanna get food? New mex restaurnt just opend.
(Sent 3:59 am)
Peter’s stomach growled. He was always so hungry, he could hardly remember the last time he didn’t feel at least a little hungry and it turns out those chips he ate earlier weren't enough to even scratch the surface of that hunger. But right now, he might be sleepier than he was hungry. Or maybe not? He couldn’t tell; they were having a tug of war in his body.
Spider:
Bro im trying to sleep
(Sent 3:59 am)
DP:
Just got home from patrol?
(Sent 3:59 am)
Spider:
Yup
(Sent 4:00 am)
DP:
I’ll drop it off at your house
Send address
(Sent 4:00 am)
That offer was so tempting. This wasn’t his house, it’s just where he slept if he didn’t want to go home. It didn’t matter if Deadpool knew he was here, he’d be gone in a few hours.
Spider:
How long would it take you to get here?
Need to get dressed
(Sent 4:02 am)
DP:
Wow
Didnt think wholesome-man would sleep nude
(Sent 4:02 am)
Spider:
Stfu
I meant back in costume
(Sent 4:02 am)
DP:
Sure lol
ETA is about fifteen minutes just for the line not counting how long it would take to get ro wheever you are.
*to wherever
(Sent 4:02 am)
Spider:
Cool
I’ll send my location
(Sent 4:02 am)
He sent the location and rolled out of bed to get fully dressed. As soon as he did, he collapsed onto the bed again. Quickly, his eyes closed.
This wasn’t his apartment. It would suck if he had to leave this spot and never come back, he did like this place, but for one, he trusted Deadpool, and two, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.
Peter grinned sleepily. He didn’t trust Deadpool at first. How could someone trust a murderer who was known to be volatile? But Deadpool had shown Peter that he had a good heart. The other would deny it if he said that. He would shout about masterbation and murder to deflect any compliments about his morality because being a shitty person seemed easier to Wade than consistently being good. But Peter had seen it. He was a great person underneath his messy exterior.
There was a knock on his window which made him jolt. Deadpool was outside, crouched on the fire escape, knocking on the glass. Peter grunted in effort as he sat up. Before he could get fully up, Deadpool knocked in a rhythm before he started singing through the glass.
“Elsa? Do you wanna build a snowman? Come on, let's go and play!”
Peter huffed, pulling the window open and dragging Deadpool inside. “Do you have to make a spectacle of yourself at every opportunity?”
“It is one of my special talents, baby boy.” Deadpool said, standing up and brushing himself off. Then, he held out the bag of food to Peter. “Here ya go.”
“Thanks.” He took the bag and left the room, heading into the kitchen to sit at the table.
Deadpool slowly followed him out of the room. “Is this, uh, your pad?” His eyes flicked around the room.
It certainly wasn’t the fanciest place. Because this wasn’t his place, he had no personal items. No paintings, plants, rugs, or any other decoration. He had a bed with simple white blankets and pillows, and two chairs at the table. That’s it. The place was bare, dark, smelled like weed and drywall because of whoever the previous owner was, and was incredibly small.
Peter shifted around self-consciously. He had never thought anything about how shitty the apartment looked before, he just enjoyed having his own space. But now…
“Yeah…” He mumbled.
“It’s good for your first place. Hell, my first apartment fresh out of high school was ten times worse than this.” Deadpool laughed, sitting across from him. “But you gotta get some decorations or something. Some movie posters or whatever nerdy shit you like, Spidey.”
Peter didn’t say anything. He wasn’t out of high school yet, he was about to be fifteen years old. But he was tall for his age (5’10), and the voice modulator built into the costume masked his voice enough to make his age ambiguous.
He pulled up the bottom of his mask to eat, turning away from Deadpool. As he ate, he felt unpleasant emotions rise up like a dark mountain. He couldn’t tell Deadpool how old he was. Peter knew what everyone would do if they found out; they’d try to get him to stop being Spider-Man. But he couldn’t just stop. Saving people, being there for them when they needed a hero, that was a part of him. Spider-Man was his other half. Besides that, they’d ask what kind of parents would let him swing around New York and he’d have to awkwardly explain to them that his family was dead and his foster parents didn’t notice anything, which would only cause more problems.
“What’s that one movie called?” Deadpool said suddenly, snapping Peter out of his thoughts.
“That’s very specific.” He teased.
“The… snowy and…? No, not Frozen.” He snapped, looking over his shoulder as though talking to someone. He did that a lot. “The- The alien thing that impersonates-“
“The Thing?”
“The Thing! Yeah, that’s it!” Deadpool snapped his fingers. “I watched that when it first came out. I was in high school, and I decided to take my first girlfriend to see it in theaters for our first date.”
“Pfft. And how’d that go?”
“Well, halfway through, she got up and left. Literally never saw her again, so.”
“Honestly, that’s probably the best reaction you could’ve expected. That movie scared the shit out of me as a kid.” Peter said.
“Oh, that’s right. You would’ve still been in diapers when it came out, right?”
“Something like that.” He hadn’t been born yet.
“Probably didn’t help that I kept trying to make a move and she kept scooting away. It was horrifically awkward.” Peter cringed, hiding his face in his hand. “Painful as hell, but not as bad as far as first dates go. What about you, Spidey?”
“I haven’t been on a date before.”
“What? Never?”
Peter shrugged. “Don’t have that time.”
“Oh no, Spidey.” Deadpool groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You can’t be a turbo-nerd, living in the definition of a typical male living space, AND a virgin. You gotta let me wingman you.”
“First of all, again, I don’t have time. And secondly, you are the absolute LAST person I’d want as a wingman.”
“No, no, trust me, Webs, I’m a GREAT wingman.”
“You just told me how you gave a girl the ick so bad she ran out of your date and never talked to you again.”
“Well, she didn’t run out-“
“Like that’s any better.”
“And that was when I was sixteen! I’m a lot smoother now than I was when I was a literal toddler. I’ve pulled men and women all around the globe.” Deadpool said, leaning back in his seat casually. Peter didn’t have to look to know Deadpool was man-spreading. That was practically his brand. “So, what do you say?”
“Uh, no. Absolutely not.”
“Aw, come on.”
“Nope.”
“At least let me take you to a bar for a drink. You gotta mingle with other people your age to lose your V card.”
“Gross.” Peter shivered. Then, he stood up. “I gotta get to sleep, D.”
“Oh, shit, it’s four in the morning. I should really get going too.” Deadpool said, hopping up. “Night, Web-Boy!”
“Goodnight.”
He watched the other hurry into the bedroom and out the window. Peter followed, closed the window and the blinds, then got out of his costume to put on a t-shirt and shorts from his bag. And then, he falls into bed.
Peter burrowed under the blankets and pulled a pillow to his chest. He pressed his face into it and closed his eyes. Then, he let himself fall into a deep sleep.
-
Peter was still exhausted when he was sitting in the Academic Decathlon meeting. He went to bed at about 4:30 am and woke up for school at 8:00 am, so it wasn’t nearly enough sleep. He was grateful for the meal last night, but it really cut into the already meager sleep he gets.
“Hey, Pete.” Ned said, nudging him. Peter lifted his head. He didn’t realize he had even put his head down. “Are you tired from… you know… superhero-ing?” Ned asked, dropping his voice into a conspiratorial whisper.
“Sure.” Peter said, sitting up and popping his spine.
“Oh, that’s so- I just can’t get over that! God, I’m friends with Spider-Man!”
“Shhh!”
“Sorry.” Ned whispers. He taps his pen on the table rhythmically. “If I was a superhero, what do you think my name would be?”
“I guess it would probably depend on what your powers were.”
“If I could choose a power… hmm…” He hums in thought. “Maybe telekinesis. Yeah, that’d be cool! Ooo, or flying! But I’m kind of scared of heights…”
Peter nodded sleepily as Ned weighed the pros and cons of different powers. He looked over at the other members of the group. They weren’t paying attention to Peter and Ned, too distracted by their own conversation. These meetings are supposed to be mainly business, budget, event dates, things like that. However, they always devolved into just chatting and hanging out.
“I think it’d be terrifying to have time powers. But it’s like that phrase, ‘the evil is in the details’ or whatever they say, it kind of depends on how the power works-“ Ned was saying. He was cut off by a phone ringing.
Peter scrambled for his phone, standing up. He apologized to the group, who glanced at him, then walked out of the classroom to answer the call. The hallway was mainly empty aside from a few kids lazily walking back to class or maybe to the bathroom.
He shielded the screen with his hand as he looked down at the name. Lucinda Thompson, aka, his current foster mother. Quickly, he hits the answer button.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Peter. Are you coming home tonight?” Her voice was soft and sad.
“Uh, yeah, yeah, I can come home. Did something happen?”
“No, I just- I feel bad about getting so mad at you. There has to be something I can do to make it up to you, right?”
“N-No, it’s ok. I’m not upset, it’s fine.”
“How about I make whatever you want for dinner?”
“Um, that- that would be nice.”
“Ok, I’ll get on that right now. What do you want?”
Peter paused, trying to think of something that wasn’t too complicated to make. He bit his lip until it hurt as he thought. “How about grilled cheese and tomato soup?”
“Oh, that sounds great. I can’t wait to see you home. Really, I feel terrible about how that all went down.”
“No, don’t feel bad, it’s ok. I-I will be home tonight.” Peter urged.
“Alright. See you tonight. Bye.”
“Bye.”
He hung up, staring at the screen. This was the first time she had reached out to him, trying to make amends. A thin grin bloomed on his face as he put his phone away.
For some reason, he couldn’t stop shaking.
-
When he got home, he saw Lucinda was in the kitchen. She turned towards him when the door opened. She told him to go to the living room because dinner was almost done. He did so without complaint.
Sitting there, he couldn’t help but look around. He could only hear two heartbeats in the house. Lucinda’s heartbeat was strong and steady, the dog’s heartbeat was weaker but faster, and Peter’s foster father’s heartbeat was absent. Did the two get into an argument again? That might explain why he wasn’t here.
“And here we go.” She said with a smile. Lucinda sets two plates on the coffee table.
The plates had two beautifully golden brown grilled sandwiches with small bowls of tomato soup on them. Peter’s mouth watered. He glanced at Lucinda, waiting for her to turn on a movie before grabbing her plate to eat, and then he took his own plate.
“So, I got a big order at work.” She said. Peter looked up at her. “Lots of money to make a few hundred boquetes for this event coming up.”
“Oh, wow. What kind of event?”
“Some sort of late-summer early-fall festival. It’ll be enough to keep the lights on for months even if I suddenly lose my job.”
“I don’t think you’re gonna lose your job, you’re good at what you do.” Peter said. Lucinda hums quietly. It was only then that he focused on the screen and saw the movie Requiem for a Dream playing. This was Lucinda’s favorite movie, they’d watched it together a million times.
Peter ate his food, watching the TV, but letting his mind drift. This was far from his first foster home. His parents died when he was six and his aunt and uncle took guardianship of him. Then his Uncle Ben was shot and killed in a mugging. Aunt May couldn’t take it. She became addicted to alcohol, and after several months of her mental health spiraling, she had a heart attack. She’d always had a weak heart, but the stress and alcoholism didn’t help. After that, he was put into foster care and went from home to home for a year before ending up here.
Honestly, it wasn’t the worst house he’d had to stay in. Lucinda and her boyfriend Ralf were constantly getting into fights. They were very much on again, off again. Peter hates watching them fight. But hey, at least they don’t hit him.
The movie on the screen was upsetting, at least to Peter. He pulled his knees to his chest, turning away from the screen. When he finished his food, he stood up.
“I’m tired, so I-I’m gonna head to bed.”
“Alright. Goodnight, Peter.”
“Goodnight.”
He goes into the kitchen to put his plate in the sink, then into his room. Peter set his backpack down on the chair. He glanced between the bag and the bed for a moment. He wanted to go on patrol, but he was way too tired.
Peter decided that skipping it for one night wouldn’t be so terrible. He gets into more comfy clothes and settles into bed. He was out like a light, his body was eager to catch up with all the sleep it had missed.
-
Panting hard, Peter stumbled into an alley and sat heavily against the wall. Despite his muscles trembling from exhaustion, he was beaming. He had saved everyone from that collapsing building, not a single person died. But of course, he could’ve done it without-
“Good work, Spider.” Daredevil said. Peter grinned at the other vigilante.
“You were incredible!” Peter shouted. “Taking down all those lackeys like that! Just bang, bang, bang! It was amazing.”
Daredevil grinned. He came over and sat next to Peter. “But you got everyone out. That’s not an easy feat either.”
“Thank you…” He blushed in embarrassment, not used to compliments.
The older man turned back towards the collapsed building. His face twisted into a frown. “We still don’t know who planted the bombs.”
Right, they hadn’t. The two vigilantes had just started patrol, just met up on the roof, when Daredevil heard someone screaming. They hurried over and there was a girl outside, about eight years old, shouting that she could smell gunpowder and hear beeping but no one believed her. They went in, went to the basement, and found a bomb with a timer steadily ticking down. The rest had been a mad dash to get the civilians out, which was impeded by men who were policing the halls, as if trying to keep people in their apartments. Luckily, Daredevil made quick work of them while Peter got everyone out.
“Yeah, we need to look into that. It seemed too organized to be one psychopath who wants to kill people just because.” Peter mumbled.
“I’ll look into it. I have contacts.” He said. Then, he turns back to Peter. “Do you wanna go on patrol together?”
“Absolutely!” Peter hopped up.
He enjoyed patrolling with Daredevil. The other was so cool, he was always trying to do the right thing, and Peter really trusted him. Many times, he had contemplated revealing himself to Daredevil. If there was anyone he’d reveal himself to, it’d be Daredevil. He was a rock in a storm, someone he knew he could always turn to if he needed help.
“You need to teach me that spiny kick you did.” Peter said, voice bordering on begging. He hopped onto the wall, walking parallel to the ground, just for the sake of burning energy. Daredevil didn’t even bat an eye at his companion’s antics. Or maybe he did? Peter was still confused on how he saw out of that eye mask.
“I’m sure you can pull off a ‘spiny kick’ as you so eloquently called it.” Daredevil said, a note of amusement or maybe affection entering his usually firm voice.
“Maybe in the heat of the moment, but that doesn’t really count.” Peter scoffs. “I’ve never taken a class on any kind of fighting.”
“Neither have I. Or… not really. My dad was a boxer, he taught me a lot.”
“Does your dad know you’re Daredevil?”
“Um…” The other man went quiet. Peter jumped and flipped, landing beside his friend, when he ran out of wall space. “I’d like to think he does.” He let out a soft, almost sad laugh.
Peter’s stomach dropped into his stomach. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-”
“Don’t be sorry, it’s fine.” Daredevil shrugs.
It was quiet for a while longer. Then, Peter spoke very softly. “My dad’s gone too.” Even though his voice was barely audible and the noise from the road got louder with each step, he knew Daredevil heard it.
They fell into silence again, but this time, it was a very companionable silence. It wouldn’t be until almost seven minutes later when they spoke again. Peter suggested going to the roof for ease of travel and Daredevil agreed with a moment of hesitation. It took much more effort for Daredevil to get to the roof than Peter, but he trusted the other to find a way up.
Up there, they were able to hear gunshots and were able to respond quickly. Peter and Daredevil was a deadly combination, they worked really well together. They worked together that night to stop a bombing, a takeover robbery, and a burglary attempt. It was a very productive and thoroughly exhausting night.
And Peter loved it.