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The sun was shining on the horizon, and stars glimmered faintly in the sky against a watercolour pink and blue. In a picture, you would never be able to tell if it was sunrise or sunset. Peter wasn’t sure he would be the best judge himself.
Nowadays, all of the in-between moments blurred together. That wasn’t to say that he wasn’t aware of what he was doing or what was happening around him; no, it was the opposite. He was acutely aware of everything he did as Spider-Man. Every person he saved, every old lady he spoke to, the people he ran into on patrol—he would never provide anyone with anything less than his utmost attention. He had experienced firsthand how deadly not doing so could be. So yes, Spider-Man was always paying attention.
Peter Parker on the other hand, had no use in doing so. In fact, it was increasingly hard to stay in the moment. On patrol, there was always something keeping him rooted, but as Peter Parker? He was left to float. No one spoke to him that much anymore. The most he got the opportunity to speak to without a mask was miscellaneous civilians with broken tech and J. Jonah Jameson, and that was just… sad.
A part of Peter felt like he wanted to throw up, scream, or punch a wall for working for the Daily Bugle. Or all three. On one hand, the Daily Bugle was a large contributor in spreading lies and misinformation to the public, and making sure it stayed on everyone’s minds. On the other, the Daily Bugle was the only thing keeping him off the streets. It was ironic that the very same thing that contributed in destroying his life was also its only salvage.
At the very least, it was extremely easy to get photos for them, considering it was very easy for him to locate Spider-Man. While he definitely wasn’t getting paid the right amount for the shots he was getting, Peter was getting by. It sucked, but it was enough to make ends meet, so all's well that ends well.
He heard the footsteps and heartbeat before he heard his voice.
“Spidey!” a cheerful voice made itself known before bounding up to where he was sitting on the edge of the roof. “Boy, am I glad you’re here! I’ve got three bags of chimichangas and two bellies to fill.”
Peter wasn’t exactly sure when Deadpool started showing up. It was a few months after the events at the Statue of Liberty, and he had felt his world collapsing. At that point in time, he couldn’t remember the last time he had held a conversation with someone for longer than ten minutes since the incident.
Then Deadpool appeared.
It wasn’t gradual, and it wasn’t sudden. It just… happened. Peter had no clue what possessed the mercenary to start hitting up the vigilante, but he was pretty sure Deadpool was way off of his rocker anyway. His current theory was that he wanted someone to eat with that could keep up with his mouth.
They were both chatterboxes and both had endless gaping holes for stomachs, so Peter figured that was enough for Deadpool to eat with some random guy.
Except sometimes Peter would go silent. Instead of asking or demanding or complaining, Deadpool would just continue to talk. Like nothing was wrong, and nothing was different.
Those days, Peter didn’t know what it was that convinced the mercenary to stay, to not leave. Those days, Peter couldn’t help but feel grateful that he wasn’t left to float. He still doesn’t know why.
Like most nights Deadpool arrived with food, they ended up abandoning the building to jump across the rooftops. Even though Peter had rules for whenever Deadpool came with him, the man still came along for some reason. Despite being so restricted and restrained by not being able to kill or maim, he never left. Instead, he helped Peter. Deadpool watched his back and kept him safe when he couldn’t do so himself.
Peter didn’t know what to make of that.
They were coming up to one of the brightest, most annoying billboards he had ever had the displeasure of seeing when another set of footsteps joined them. It always seemed to be around these parts where Daredevil found them. The vigilante of Hell’s Kitchen, who was infamous for working alone brutally and efficiently, somehow wound up in Spider-Man and Deadpool’s little group (“It’s called Team Red!”).
Around a month after Deadpool latched onto him, he found Daredevil in the same spot as Peter was while he was staking out the docks. According to what he had heard, there was meant to be a weapons deal over the course of the next few hours. When there were a lot more people than anticipated, Daredevil didn’t hesitate to join Peter in the fight.
Since then, they kept managing to run into each other. They've taken to meeting on patrol and carrying out the rest of the night together. After Daredevil realised that he wasn't ever formally trained, he took him to Fogwell's, and they started sparring together instead of patrolling on Saturday's. It was a show of trust for Daredevil to show him a place that's important to him, and Peter would never take advantage of that.
After roof hopping for a while with no crimes going on around them, they stopped on a rooftop in Hell’s Kitchen. Whenever the three of them were together on patrol, they would stop here to talk, spar, or even just eat (courtesy of Deadpool). This was their little place, just for them.
“I have intel on a drug bust that’s going to be happening soon,” Daredevil said, turning towards him.
“Oh, are we going on a field trip?” Deadpool cuts in with a squeal. “You should’ve told me sooner, Red, I would have brought donuts for the journey.”
“I never said you were coming along.”
“You didn’t need to!”
Before Daredevil could let out one of his Deadpool-lives-to-make-my-life-worse sighs, Peter barges in grumbling, “Stop having your marriageable spats in public places that I’m forced to be in the vicinity of. Double D, where’s the bust at?”
“We are not having a marriageable- ugh, whatever. The bust is close to the docks. I’ll lead the way.”
Deadpool leans in towards Peter and, despite knowing that Daredevil could hear it all too clearly, whispers, “He’s too embarrassed to admit it, but he is an incredible housewife in our loving marr- hey!” he gets cut off as Daredevil whacks him over the head with one of his batons. As he went down, he dramatically reached out an arm to Peter. He watched on with a humorous smile underneath his mask.
“Spidey, defend my honour!” he wheezed out.
“What honour?” Peter snarked back. Deadpool gasped with faux shock, collapsing back down onto the ground. Dropping his outstretched arm, he sobbed dramatically at the 'betrayal'.
“We do have places to be, you know,” Daredevil reminded them. It wasn't like he hadn’t been involved.
“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming, Hornhead.”
“I still haven’t invited you!”
Peter felt his laugh continuing to ring into the air as they went. It felt nice for a change.
“So, these are the guys?” Peter asked from his position on the roof. They were looking down over an alleyway milling of people lurking around.
“Yeah, and there are more coming; likely the leaders, so the deal will start soon,” Daredevil whispered back.
“Hey, I don’t have super fancy schmancy hearing to know everything you’re saying!”
“Shh!” Deadpool groaned at Daredevil before turning to him.
“The deal’s starting soon and there’s going to be more people, so we should spread out and cover more ground,” Peter points out, raising his voice just enough so that they could both hear him. Everyone nodded before going off in different directions. Despite all of the constant jokes and bickering, the trio could be serious when there was business to deal with. When everything was said and done, Peter had found himself being able to rely on his strange allies more than anyone else that he had recently spoken with.
It wasn’t often, but Peter still sometimes got called over to help with Avengers business. Every time he had to deal with whatever their latest fight was, it felt like he had a jagged piece of glass in his heart that was wedging its way deeper, embedding itself. Before the spell, they had rarely reached out, but a few months after, it had started happening. He sometimes wondered if that meant that it was Peter Parker that they hadn’t wanted to be around, seeing as they would so quickly call Spider-Man.
It was weird being around everyone else without Tony. Usually, he would be the one that Peter would talk to and stick by. His absence weighed down on Peter, and he couldn’t just shrug it off.
Deadpool and Daredevil felt different, though. He might not know their identities, but they didn’t know his either, and Peter knew more than enough to make up for that lack of information.
He knew that Deadpool’s favourite food is a chimichanga and that he needed more than even Peter ate to keep up with his metabolism, and his katanas are named Bea and Arthur because he had an unhealthy obsession with The Golden Girls. Peter even knew about his random fear of cows and how he’s completely useless if you put a kitten in front of him.
He knew that Daredevil was a devout catholic, despite what the newspapers seemed to always think, and that he, like Peter, has sometimes gone out in nothing more than black cloth that concealed his identity. He knew that he got sensory overloads that were worse than Peter’s ever had, and that he’s struggled with the same moral line that Peter’s toed in the past.
Around them, he’s never worried about them turning his back on him, against all odds. For whatever reason, he trusts a vigilante that beats people into comas and a mercenary that ruthlessly kills people.
Peter looks at Deadpool and Daredevil from his perch on the rooftop, and they share a nod, confirming their positions and that they’re ready.
The final people arrive, and a man steps forwards from the group towards the centre of the alleyway. He’s wearing a dark trenchcoat and golden chains around his neck. His hair is smoothly combed, and he holds himself like he’s the most important person in the room. In his head, he starts calling him Gold Chains.
Peter decides then and there that he doesn’t like him.
“Do you have the money?” a woman steps forward and asks in a gruff voice.
“Right here,” Gold Chains said, beckoning a meagre person holding a large briefcase forward. He takes the briefcase before opening it up and showing it to the woman. As he gets sight of it, a sharp hiss comes out of him unbidden. For something to cost that much money, it has to be either really dangerous and a lot of it. No wonder Daredevil wanted them to tag along. There were way too many people that were probably high profile and it was way too important for him to go in alone. Even though Daredevil had said he only wanted Spider-Man, he wouldn’t have said it in front of Deadpool unless he wanted him there as well, and they all knew it.
The woman had just pulled out a heavy-duty duffel bag that presumably held the drugs in when Daredevil dropped from his position and into the thugs on the outskirts, blocking off one of the exits.
A scream cut through the air. That was definitely their cue.
Dropping down, Peter immediately got to work with webbing people up to the sides of the building. There’s people running everywhere and shouting all around him, but he’s swiftly moving through it all. Multiple thugs shoot bullets at him, and there is whizzing all around him. Peter manages to dodge all of them through the skin of his teeth, but it’s getting risky with the potential for casualties due to all of the immobile people.
He looks over and sees Daredevil closing in on the main people doing the deal in the centre and Deadpool in combat with a large group. No one behind him looks mortally wounded, and Peter feels a part of him glow with pride at seeing him not use lethal force while Peter and Daredevil were here. The fact that he’s putting in the effort for them speaks more than words ever could.
It wasn’t long before the majority of the criminals were down and incapacitated. The three of them were slowing down and finishing off the last few stragglers that were still fighting when it happened.
A sharp, overwhelming buzz overcame Peter all at once. They were in danger. Something was going to happen. Something was going to happen now.
Peter saw it before he heard it. One of the criminals that he had webbed up to a concrete wall was holding a gun discretely in his hand, aiming it directly at where Daredevil was still taking on three men.
Peter felt his legs moving, propelling him forwards before he had even registered the threat. And then he was jumping in front of Daredevil and a deafening bang flooded the air.
The pain didn’t register at first. All he knew was that he was falling to the ground at a rapid pace. Then his head met the ground and the world was lost on him.
He could hear shouting at the edges of his senses, but it was garbled and nonsensical. The world was either completely dark or blindingly bright, and Peter couldn’t tell which one it was. Everything was fuzzy, and he felt something pulling him down. It would be alright to sleep, right? Yeah, it must be if he’s this tired.
“-Spider-Man!” a shout cut through the haze like a blade.
And then the pain came in.
His head was screaming at him, and he could feel something wet underneath him from where his fingers were touching the concrete. He went to look down, but as soon as he opened his eyes, his headache flared and there were a million needles stabbing into his brain.
Ignoring it, he looked down. An agonising pain was coming from his chest.
His chest that wasn’t rising and falling.
He forced himself to inhale, but it felt like he was gasping around liquid. Wet coughs suddenly broke out of him, strangling itself out of his throat.
A hand was pressing down on him. “Stay down, you’re going to bleed out at this rate,” a voice hissed at him.
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.
“C’n’t- breathe-” he choked out before dissolving into sharp breaths and coughs. Peter heard muttered apologies before a hand was at his mask, pulling it up to his nose. He stopped coughing after what must have only been a few minutes but felt like hours.
“D’redevil?” he mumbled around sharp breaths.
“Deadpool’s handling the last few guys and then we’re gonna get you some help.”
That didn’t sound right. Peter and Daredevil should be helping him. Weren’t they doing some sort of bust? Why was Deadpool alone?
“We need to… help,” Peter grunted out as he started to adjust himself to sit up, despite the pain flooding through his every nerve.
“No, you need to stay down. If you move around anymore than you already are, you’re going to bleed out.” There was an urgency, a franticness in his tone that wasn’t usually there.
“I’m fine.” Peter forced his mouth into a smile that only ended up looking strained and bloody. Maybe Daredevil bought it?
“If you’re fine then I’m Jesus, which DD certainly doesn’t believe,” Deadpool said. He must have finished up with the rest of the criminals already. Peter doesn’t remember how many there were by the time the gun went off. He can hardly even think.
“I’ve already called Claire. She should be here in two minutes tops,” Daredevil said.
“Damage?”
“Shot to the chest, likely affected the lungs, but the lung damage could have happened earlier from possible broken ribs. Concussion—probably only minor.”
He thinks Deadpool responded, but everything was starting to go fuzzy again. Peter felt hands moving him, but he couldn't tell.
It wasn’t until later that the haze subsided.
“-got a head injury, I have to remove his mask,” a female voice said with an authority-like tone.
“Is there any way around it?” That’s Daredevil.
“Spidey is kind of big on the secret identities thing.” Deadpool.
“I know how you vigilantes are with identities, but making sure Spider-Man doesn’t die is more important to me than who he is under the mask.”
There was a sigh and then a hand was on the edge of his mask, which was pulled up. Why was it pulled up?
“No,” he managed to croak out, trying to turn his head as if that would get the hand away.
“I’m sorry, but I have to do this to help you,” she said clinically. And then he wasn’t wearing his mask anymore.
There were strangled gasps and a muffled curse.
“Why is he a child? Matty, why is he a child?”
“I… don’t know.”
“How did we not notice?”
Someone cleared their throat and then, “Look, you two need to leave if you’re going to be distracting. I have a patient bleeding out on me.”
And then he went under.
The light was blinding him as soon as he opened his eyes. There was the faint sound of traffic and birds in the distance filling his ears and pulling him back to reality.
Peter glanced around, taking in his surroundings. He was in some sort of bedroom. The door was open.
So, he wasn’t locked in. That was strange. He had no idea where he was, and his kidnappers wanted him to think he was safe then.
He tried to quickly sit up before his chest screamed at him in pain, forcing him to look at the white bandages wrapped around his torso. With it, the memories of what happened washed over him.
Right. He was shot.
This must be some sort of safehouse then. Probably one of Deadpool’s, considering how paranoid he was.
Bringing up his hands to his face, he sighed into his hands, trying to gather himself. At his fingers meeting the bare skin on his face, he froze.
They took off his mask.
He tried to breathe in deeply to calm himself, then winced at the tight pain emanating from it. Resigning himself to whoever might be waiting for him, he ignored the sharp aching and slowly got up to make his way out of the bedroom.
Using the wall to support him, he entered into a kitchen that still had a few dirty dishes in the sink but was pretty clean overall.
“How are you feeling?” Daredevil’s voice called from behind him. Peter turned around and was met with a man that made his head hurt just thinking of.
“Mr. Murdock?” Peter automatically croaked out before thinking better of it. “Daredevil?”
It probably wasn’t the smartest to know the name of a person who most certainly didn’t know him anymore for reasons that he didn’t even want to grant a little bit of his attention right now.
“You know me?” Daredevil, or Matthew Murdock, asks as his expression morphed to show his shock.
“I… yeah, just… saw one of your trials.” That wasn’t technically a lie, it just omitted that Peter was the trial.
“Huh.” He looks frozen, as if he hadn't expected the conversation to go in this direction.
Shaking himself out of his stupor, he said, “You’re a kid.”
Peter winced. “Only for another few months,” he mumbles, going to cross his arms for further effect before thinking better of it.
“Seventeen,” Matt breathed out.
“Is Bambi awake!?” an excited voice exclaims. In no time at all, Deadpool, still wearing his mask, burst through the doorway.
“Be quiet, Wade.” Wade?
“How you feeling, Spidey? Do I need to order a bunch of takeaway for us?”
“I’m… fine,” Peter said, shifting his feet. He saw Matt scowling at him.
No one really knew how to continue the conversation. There was a beat of silence.
“You took off my mask.” He stated it like he was talking about the weather, ignoring the stirring feelings underneath.
“You had a head injury,” Deadpool matched Peter’s conversational tone of voice as he points it out.
“I’m sorry that we took it off, but there was no other way of making sure that you weren’t injured,” apologises Matt.
Another beat of silence.
What did they think? They had been operating under the assumption that Peter was an adult. Were they going to leave him now? Was it weird to be hanging out with a teenager?
Peter really didn't want them to leave.
He couldn’t deal with the apprehensive air in the room any longer. “So, what now, are you going to forbid me from going out? Tell me I’m too young?” he snapped out with no further preamble.
A snort. “That would be pretty rich coming from me,” Matt mutters as if he was talking to himself.
“I’ve fought by your side for months, kid, you’re more than capable,” he continues in a louder voice. “I know you, and I know that no one is going to be able to keep you from going out.”
“Oh,” Peter breathed out. In the same way that he knew Deadpool’s weakness to kittens and Daredevil’s fear of losing his abilities, he had failed to consider the fact that they know him as well.
He was weirdly content with that knowledge.
“The only thing I’m concerned about is the lack of food in your diet,” Deadpool butts in. “You need more than the crap I feed you to survive, Baby Boy, and it’s very obvious that you’re not getting much from anywhere else.”
So maybe the meager pay he gets from Jameson isn’t exactly enough to eat very handsomely. Maybe the times Deadpool brings food are the only times he has a full stomach. That doesn’t mean he wants to bring up his lack of a guardian right now. His head’s already pulsing with pain.
“Can we not do this right now?” he asks pitifully.
“Alright,” Matt amends. “You’re at my place right now, so you can stay however long you’d like, preferably until you’re at least healed up.”
Daredevil brought him to his very own home then. Peter didn’t know how to feel at that admission. He seriously trusts him enough to bring him to a place that he spends his daily life in? Fogwell's was big enough, but this?
“Thank you,” is all he could manage to accumulate from that.
“It’s no problem," Matt says with a warm smile. "Claire—the one who helped you—is going to come by soon to make sure you’re alright.”
“And we’ll have chimichangas in the meantime!” Deadpool cheered.
Matt let out one of his sighs that only Deadpool could cause. “And Wade will get chimichangas for us in the meantime,” he grumbled.
“Oh right, Bambi, that’s me! I’m Wade.”
They both fell silent as they stared at him expectantly. Peter knew he could say nothing and the two of them would accept that.
But he didn’t want to.
“Peter,” he said, a small smile growing on his face. It was worth the comforting and boisterous smiles he got from Matt and Wade.
For once, the world was in focus and he was Peter Parker.
It was starting to feel like returning home.