Chapter Text
This was the 7th time Peter had changed foster families, and quite frankly he was sick of it.
The constant moving from place to place was tiring, and difficult. He was forced to deal with new people, a new school, and a new life. Sure, he had kept in touch with Ned and MJ - he had been lucky enough to the fact that he was close enough to visit them, taking the bus ever so often to go hang out with them - however it still felt painstakingly far. Rebuilding all your connections again is not fun, especially when the foster system is not in your favour; of course, Peter knew that the system would give him some odd families, but every single one had sooner or later been rotten.
Ever since Aunt May had died, Peter had been alone, he didn’t feel like he could open up to his friends about the grief he felt (and still feeling) after that day, not even Ned knew - to some degree. He knew that the whole attire had been absolutely devastating for Peter considering that he viewed May as his mother, but he didn’t realise the lengths of guilt Peter felt. If he was only better, stronger, stopped Green goblin before it all happened.
He could’ve stopped it.
He could still hear her last words ringing in his ear, gosh it was loud. The voice echoed and echoed filling his ears like a vacuum. Suddenly, it felt like he couldn’t breathe, his throat felt empty as he clawed at that, he felt weak. The same utter weakness he felt when he couldn’t save May. And now she was dead. All because of him, and now he was stuck without her forever, stuck as a pingpong ball in the rally of the foster system.
“Peter? Peter!” MJ shouted, clearly worried. “You good? I could give you a moment if you want?”
Peter peered around for a second realising he was coated in sweat, and by the time he realised his heart was beating at an exceptional rate, he had figured out he was likely having a panic attack. Yet another reason, his friends knew how hard the death of Aunt May had been on him. Yet he never chose to share, they didn’t deserve the burden of talking to him, that was a silly idiotic idea.
“Peter, you good dude? You zoned out, again.” Her voice was soft, yet drenched in worry; it was clear she was attempting to sound as comforting and worry-free as possible.
“Oh, yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing” he spluttered.
“If you ever want to talk me and Ned are always fre-“
“It’s no big deal,” he interrupted, “sorry.” He paused not wanting to stop her but feeling the need to steer the conversation away from the topic at hand, “it’s just the second week with the Smiths. I’m worried that the same thing with my other ‘families’ is going to happen.”
“Well at least you are closer to the headquarters of Stark Industries!” Ned exclaimed, hoping to distract Peter - as he was able to tell that Peter was uncomfortable by the overall situation.
“That means it’d make it way easier to get to your internship,” MJ added.
“If I actually get in,” Peter replied begrudgingly.
“Shut up man, you’ll definitely get in your like the smartest person I know! Well apart from Tony Stark, well, technically I don’t know him personally, more like as a fan of his work because damn that guy is impressive. Imagine being the person to create Iron man! And then full on announcing it to everyone too! And not only that his work on nuclear engineering is just phenomenal! But I mean you’re also impressive Peter with that whole Spiderman thing you know. It’s just an amazing opportunity for you.” Ned said.
“Thanks Ned, but I don’t know if the Smiths are going to let me.” The Smiths were friendly. And friendliness is more than often a lie, a scheme, to say the least. By convincing the social workers that all is well, and that you are the type of caring people that could foster a traumatized orphan, it allows you to collect the gracious money you get for such a sacrifice. Causing some not so nice people to step in the program.
“Well they don’t exactly have to know,” MJ retorted,” just you know, apply for it, spend a week or two there and then tell them. You could tell them that it’s completely free except you may need some money for bus trips - though I’m sure since you’re so great they can get that for you.”
Peter thought for a moment, tapping his fingers against his knee, “I guess that could work. But what if I tell them and they say no it’s not worth it!”
“Stop with the what ifs, that’s future you’s problem”
“Come on Peter! Now is your chance! Haven’t you been working on that spiderweb formula? You could use that as an example of your work.” Ned exclaimed.
“But then he’d know Peter is Spiderman, dumbass.”
“I mean, I have been creating this formula that acts as a similar coat to bandages, like a spray on bandage! I’m planning on making sure it’s toxic-free, however if I get it right it would be able to help a ton of people since anyone could just spray it on their wounds or hers could keep it on them since it’s super portable to help themselves or civilians!” Peter explained thoroughly.
“See! Perfect!”
Peter still looked uncertain, but with their help he managed to submit an applicant to join the intern program at Stark Industries. It was a one in a million shot, but it was worth a try. Even if he did get it he would most likely be working aside a bunch of other teenagers who were probably older than him - but he had learnt that he was often smarter than the people in his class (not that they weren’t smart, it’s just he had found that when he really focused on stuff he liked e.g. engineering he was pretty good at it).
The Internship was due to come in a week’s time, sent to the email he added to the form, and it would include a detailed list on what he would do, how to access the building (as it was heavily guarded by security), and which department he would be working under - at least, Peter hoped it would include all of that. He preferred stuff containing much more information than it was supposed to, it made him feel organised with his life when everything was gone. Information helped him plan, and think, allowing him to visualise new ideas easily around in his brain. Information in his eyes was a start up thing, helping him understand what he was working with in order to start inventing (well in many cases inventing), it’s what helps him create his gear since he already has all the information about the gadget in his head.
He left Ned’s house later that day, and took the bus to his new place of residence (he refused to call it home, because it lacked the homely presence of May). The trip wasn’t necessarily long, however he was exhausted - he has been quite tired lately, but he had assumed it was due to all his work as a vigilante - nevertheless he was too tired to think about the cause and ended up just taking a nap on the bus.
When he arrived back at the Smiths, he gently creaked open the door scanning to see if anyone was around and about. It was late into the afternoon, so he had thought that Mr and Mrs Smith were in the living room, but they were nowhere in sight.
“Peter.” A stern voice spoke nearby. Scuttling inside he turned to see Mr Smith standing with his arms crossed in the kitchen. Peter’s breath hitched as he stood in the doorway, not that he had anything to be afraid of, yet he had spoken with such authority and power he caused him to shake. “Shut the door behind you please.”
“Yes, sir.” Peter timidly replied, cautiously shutting the door behind him.
“Where have you been?”
“Ned’s house.” He wanted to elaborate, but he worried about making the situation worse, so he attempted to say as little words as possible. The Smiths were a good family, in the sense that they were better than most Peter had been allocated. But alas they are all the same in the end.
“And what time is it now?”
Shoot the time! Peter had completely forgotten about curfew at 5. Glancing at his watch to check the time, Peter saw 18:14. Crap, he was sure of it now. “Six fourteen.” He stammered.
“Not a call. Not a text. One simple thing Peter. Be back by five, how hard is a simple thing!” Mr Smith mocked. “What was so important that you had to be doing at Ned’s to miss the curfew, huh?”
Peter stayed silent, it was a rhetorical question. Another way to mock idiotic Peter.
“What would your poor mother think?” He hadn’t realised his hands had palmed into fists, the strength he got from that spider causing it to hurt a lot more than it should’ve. He let go quickly, choosing to grasp onto the fabric of his clothes instead. It was really getting hard to breath, focus. Mr Smith is speaking. It’s rude. Not to listen.
“You're being out so late, ignoring our texts. Had us worried sick, Peter.” They hadn’t texted, he was sure of that. But soon he doubted he'd have his phone to check.
Focus. Focus on eye contact. No, Mr Smith had that stern unwavering look, like he was staring into your soul. Okay, look at the floor instead. He couldn’t hear Mr Smith now, everything was moving too fast, and too loud. He could hear the water in the tap dropping. Yet everything coming out Mr Smith’s mouth was blurred. He caught the words “money”, and “food” during the lecture though were hard to decrypt.
After what seemed like hours, Mr Smith stopped and marched Peter to his room. The conversation was over at last. Something was telling Peter he wouldn’t be allowed out, but that doesn’t mean Spiderman can't leave.
When he was sure Mr Smith had gone back to his bedroom to talk with Mrs Smith, he changed into his spandex costume, and leapt out the window. And as easily as he had jumped out that window he began to swing from window to window, not a care in the world.
Each swing came from muscle memory, or his spider reflexes - it was hard to tell - he felt the wind thrash against his face in the most calming way possible. The coolness stroked his cheek as he surveyed the city. Mugger 10 o’clock, his head turned to face the patter of rapid footsteps he heard. Easy enough, with a quick web he caused the robber to become still, and gave back the purse to the woman he had stolen it from.
“Thank you, Spiderman, your service is always appreciated.” The woman bowed deeply, taking the purse from him. “Could I buy you something to eat? You must be starving from all that swinging and crime fighting.”
He really wished he could decline. This type of work isn't something you should get paid for, but gosh he was hungry. “Oh, no way! That would be amazing, though I’ll have to make it quick. Lots of people out there that could use my help!” He tended to embrace more of the cool person persona, it made people happy - and to be honest - he was a lot more confident as Spiderman.
After the woman had bought him some churros at a local food cart, he swung away to a nearby roof. Roofs were always a great spot for patrolling: dark, cool, and quiet. Sure, he liked the buzz of background noise from time to time, but he often preferred the unjudgmental sound of silence. He felt at peace watching from the rooftops. That is, until someone interrupts him.
The loud sound of jets filled the air as he landed. Peter didn’t choose to turn around, he wanted to see what Stark would do. “Spiderling.” Peter didn’t respond, though he heard the sound of metal footsteps slowly trailing towards him. “Spiderboy?”. He paused. “Crime-fighting spider?”
He turned around to face Iron man, “Spiderman.” He said attempting to fill his voice with the confidence he had before (and to not try to sound like a 16 year old kid). He really liked Mr Stark, he was probably one of his top favourite scientists, Bruce Banner was also up there, but Tony? Tony was incredible. He had a lot of enthusiasm for him, though he couldn't really show it as he was on duty.
“You’re not really a man, Spiderman.” Iron man scoffed, not in the ridiculing way Mr Smith would do, but in a joking manner. Peter realised he really missed not being ridiculed for every action. “What are you, a teenager?”.
“My identity is a secret, and it should stay that way. If I revealed little things, like my age, it would be a whole lot easier to find me wouldn’t it?” He said cheekily
The man was left speechless. This kid? Was he even kid? Whatever. Was back-talking him? The infamous Tony Stark. “And just when I thought you, of all people, could have some use”.
“Hang on, me? Of all people? What does that even mean”
“You know what you did” He said, jabbing a finger towards him, “You damaged my helmet."
Did he? The Peter Parker in the Spiderman suit was astonished. He damaged Mr Stark’s suit! Oh god, his heart started to pick up the pace and his face must’ve gotten very pale under the mask, “I’m so so sorry. I deeply apologise, I don’t remember that at all. I’m sure I wouldn’t mean to do that, as you mean a lot to me.” Peter had started waving his hands around frantically in front of him. “You are truly amazing, and I don't think I would’ve done anything unless it was for a good reason because you of all people shouldn’t deserve that, and I think-”
“Kid,” Sweet Jesus this kid could talk a lot, in an almost endearing way, the kid seemed to look up to him. But now was not the time to ponder, “I was joking, kind of, I came here to ask if you would join the Avengers? We have seen your powers and capabilities and we think it would really help out.”
Peter paused. The Avengers? The Avengers? The opportunity was here presenting itself, however he couldn’t. He had too much going on and not the flexibility to do so. And it would be incredibly hard to keep Spiderman a secret if he did end up getting the internship, because he would be called in the very same building. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m good. I’m happy being the Friendly Neighbourhood Spiderman.”
Tony was shocked, this kid was passing up a once in a life opportunity. “Look kid, we need you, and you need us, we have equipment, funding, and suits. I could easily fix up this spandex suit with some proper fighting material.”
“Do I have a choice whether I join, or not?”
“Well yes, but even if you say no, I can guarantee you’ll join some time in the future.”
“If your offer still stands then maybe, but I’m currently happy working the way I am now. Alone.”
“At least take my calling card, so you can call me if you feel like joining?” A calling card was printed out of his suit
“Is it bugged? Or some sort of tracking chip in it?” Peter responded, carefully checking the card.
“Uh, no. It's paper.” To think he would ask that is already pretty smart for his age. Considering Spiderman is the age he thinks he is.
The boy nods before taking the card, and getting ready to shoot a web, “thank you, again, for the offer. I’ll let you know if I ever change my mind.” He swings off before Iron man gets the final say.
Man, what a kid. Iron man thinks to himself.