Chapter Text
Peter Parker felt the floor give out beneath him before his brain had time to process the noise of the explosion. His body acted purely on instinct as he twisted and shot one web at the metal support beam above him and another towards the fluffy tabby he’d been up here for in the first place. The cat let out an ungodly screech as Peter wrenched it upwards. He had about 3 seconds of pity for the cat before it stuck its claws deep into the flesh of his arm.
“Fuck,” He hissed through gritted teeth. The cat however, did not seem to pity him in the slightest, hissing at Peter as he held the angry beast close to his chest.
The smell of leaking gas and fire was overwhelming on his senses, so Peter took the opportunity to throw himself and the cat out of the gaping hole in the building, curling himself as tightly around the creature as he could without hurting it. They hurtled towards the ground at a rapid rate where the apartment’s occupants were waiting, whilst a cacophony of deafening sirens brought tears to Peter’s eyes. He had gotten everyone out of the building before the fire had taken over until he’d spotted a goth teen crying for his cat. He couldn’t just leave it there, even if he gained a few battle scars in the process, and without thought threw himself back into the burning building like any other fourteen year old would. Average Wednesday evening.
He landed lightly in front of the teen and carefully pried the cat’s claws from his arm before hastily handing it over. Although his mask hid almost all facial expressions, he grinned at the sniffing boy who seemed to pick up on the ‘friendly’ part of the local hero’s moniker.
“What’s the cat's name?”
“Jaspar,” The boy replied, holding the dust covered furball to his chest.
“Cool name! Bye, Jaspar,” And then Peter promptly flung himself towards the nearest non-burning or gas filled building and let the clean air fill his lungs as he made his way back to his apartment.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
Peter regretted every decision he’d ever made when his alarm woke him at 7am just a few hours after the whole ‘burning building fiasco’. It was 3am by the time he crawled through his bedroom window, and it wasn’t until nearly 4am that he finally fell into bed. Due to an unfortunate event involving a wayward knife and a nasty infected gash on his thigh, he’s been forced to start properly cleaning his injuries after patrol. Peter still has nightmares of trying to hide that grade three fever from May. Apparently his super-healing only really liked to kick in when it felt like it, or if he was dying - either or. He grabbed his phone to silence his alarm so it couldn’t continue to assault his aching ears with a muted click and was greeted with a message from Ned that solely consisted of a screenshot of a news article about the incidents from the night before. A photo of his soot-covered suit blessed Ned’s DM’s, which was lying crumpled in the corner where he’d shrugged it off last night.
With great effort, and a non-minimal amount of swearing, Peter pushed himself out of bed. He stashed his suit in the back of his wardrobe before pulling on jeans and a t-shirt and going to grab breakfast. There was a note waiting for him on the kitchen table.
Got called in to cover someone’s shift. Will be home late. Pizza in the freezer. Have a good day.
I larb you!
- May
A soft sigh escaped Peter's mouth as he dropped the note onto the table and threw some bread into the toaster. He knew May took every single shift she possibly could to put food on the table. An uncomfortable guilt filled him at the thought of May working her second double shift this week. The idea that May would be better off without him was something Peter had only ever dared to mention once to his aunt, but her pure offense at that idea had made him too afraid to ever bring it up again. May working late also meant he couldn’t patrol that night, the risk of her coming into his room to check on him and him not being there was too high.
The sudden pop of the toaster ripped him from his thoughts and startled him so badly he dropped the jar of peanut butter he was holding. It would have smashed all over the floor if Peter didn’t have, quite literally, superhuman reflexes.
He sighed once again and began eating.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
A kick under the desk from Ned startled Peter awake. His Spanish teacher was looking at him expectantly.
“Peter, ¿como se dice ‘One cannot sleep during school hours’ en español?”
Peter blinked once, twice, three times before answering, “No se puede dormir durante el horario escolar… I think?”
“Remember this in future, si?” Peter simply nodded in response and tried to force himself to stay awake.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
By the time lunch rolled around his eyes ached from the effort of keeping them open. Whilst he contemplated whether glueing them open was a good idea , he flopped into his seat next to Ned and barely pushed his try aside before promptly slamming his head on the lunch table. MJ simply glanced at him before returning to her book. Ned also ignored him in favor of scrolling through TikTok.
“I’m doing great, thanks for asking,” Peter remarked, peeling his head off the table.
“Whatever is wrong with you is your own fault,” MJ answered without looking up from her book.
“You don’t know that!” Peter replied indignantly.
“It kinda was though, no one forced you to patrol on a school night,” Ned chimed in, extremely unhelpfully.
“I hate you both.”
Ned and MJ appeared completely unfazed by his disdain for them and began discussing the chemistry project that had been assigned that morning. A discussion that yielded exactly half an idea for a project worth ten percent of their grade.
“We could always just use the bandages I developed for that Stark internship thing I applied for a few weeks back,” Peter suggested after watching Ned and MJ get into a slightly off topic debate about whether or not a Victorian child would die if they were shown an Italian brainrot video.
“Huh?” Ned responded, looking like he completely forgot the original topic of conversation.
“For the chem project? We could just use those bandages I made that imitate the lost tissue around a wound, remember?”
“Oh fuck yeah! I’m lowkey convinced that those things are more magic than science,” Ned seemed ecstatic that he would have to do exactly no work to get a good grade.
MJ on the other hand looked slightly more conflicted at the prospect of reusing something Peter had made on his own.
Peter was, even if he wouldn’t actually admit it, extremely proud of his creation. It had started with a simplified version of his web fluid, designed to simply cover a wound quickly and stop the bleeding. When he’d heard about the Stark Industries internship program he realized he’d have to significantly improve the design in order to have a shot at being the first high schooler to ever become a Stark Industries intern. He’d also have to lie on the application about said highschool, but that's besides the point. The bandages were designed to replicate the surrounding tissue of a wound and convince the nearby nerves that they weren’t in pain. They had been extremely useful when he’d been shot clean through the shoulder last month.
“Did you ever hear back about that internship?” MJ questioned.
“Nope. Nothing. Nada.” Peter tried to not let his disappointment show. He had been so proud of those stupid bandages.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
That evening, Peter barely had the energy to cook and eat the pizza May had mentioned before he collapsed into bed. He didn’t even bother doing his homework. He simply kicked off his shoes and passed out.
Maybe it was a good thing he couldn’t patrol that night.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
Peter woke up a few, measly hours later in a cold sweat. He couldn’t shake the idea that Ben's blood was coating his hands. The image of Ben’s dull eyes staring lifelessly was still fresh in his mind as he stood on shaky knees to creep towards May’s bedroom. He knew he was too old to still want to sleep with his aunt and yet at least once a month since Ben had been killed, Peter found himself curling into bed with her after a nightmare. Thankfully May didn’t seem to mind too much, as it was the only thing that stopped Peter from spiralling too far out of control.
May’s room was messy. Her bed wasn’t dressed but it also clearly hadn’t been slept in. Peter glanced at his phone and frowned. 5am. She should’ve been back by now so he had a look around the small apartment to make sure she wasn’t sprawled out on the couch or using the bathroom. She wasn’t. Peter tried to ring her a few times but there was no answer. His frown deepened in confusion and fear as he realized his sixth sense was quietly wailing. It was what it did when someone else was in trouble or needed help. The problem with living in New York was that someone always needed help somewhere, even if it was just a misplaced wallet. He’d learned to tune out that quiet ringing long ago. Something felt different though. Tonight was off.
He shrugged on his coat and made his way into the early morning air.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
It was only a 30 minute walk to Queens Hospital but May still chose to drive it most days. She said it was because her handbag was too heavy to carry around the place, but Peter knew the bad back she denied having was the more likely culprit. He always hated when May tried to keep things from him, he wanted her to stop treating him like a child and just tell him the truth. This resentment was replaced by guilt once he realized that he was constantly lying and hiding the whole ‘being a superhero thing’ from her. Peter Parker and guilt, a pair as iconic as Tony Stark and alcoholism.
He followed the usual roads May would have taken to drive home. There was no sign of her or their beaten up old car anywhere, and the constant buzzing at the base of his neck only got stronger. His pace began to quicken and by the time he reached the hospital he was frantically running. Despite the fact the sun had barely begun to rise, the emergency apartment was already filling up with a variety of injuries and illnesses. Louise Wolfe was working on checking people in, she was a long time friend of May’s and someone Peter had known for longer than he could remember. Peter jumped the queue, something May would definitely scold him for, and started to question the redhead.
“Hey Louise, just wondering if you’ve seen May? She said she’d be home late but that usually means like 2 or 3am, not 7 in the morning. I’m kinda starting to freak out a little and-” Louise cut him off.
“Peter, take a breath for me, okay honey?” Louise was looking at him with such concern that he simply complied without protesting. “May left hours ago, she’s still not home?”
Peter shook his head and the nausea in his stomach grew stronger. She wasn’t here. It was a lifeline he had been clinging to that Louise had just ripped from his hands. May Parker wasn’t at work and she wasn’t at home. She was gone.
“She left here around four hours ago, said she was out of gas and was going to walk home. I offered her a lift but she refused…” The woman’s brow furrowed in growing worry and confusion - and that was all the motivation Peter needed to turn on his heels and leg it out the hospital doors, Louise’s shouts of his name echoing in his ears.
All Peter could think about was that May had been out of gas. If May had been walking home she would have taken a completely different path to the one he used to get to the hospital. There were countless side streets and alleyways that provided shortcuts to their small apartment. Peter began to run, and he kept running until the sharp smell of copper hit his nose.
Blood.
He followed his enhanced sense of smell until he found himself in what would usually be a very normal, if slightly sketchy, alleyway. Today however, there was nothing normal about the narrow, dirty street. Peter was frozen in sheer horror as he took in the scene before him, and only moved when he bent over to empty his stomach onto his shoes.
There was a body laying in a heap by the dumpster. At first glance Peter couldn’t tell if it was even May or not, her eyes had been gouged out and there was so much blood . Her torso was littered with more stab wounds than he could count. Her neck had been so thoroughly sliced open that it looked like one wrong move would detach it.
Peter didn’t want to believe what he was seeing but that was definitely his May. He could still somehow smell the obnoxious perfume she liked to wear underneath the thick, nauseating scent of metal. Noticing the perfume was what finally caused him to move. With unnatural speed he darted forward and ever so carefully laid May on the floor. He pulled out his phone, called 911, and then frantically started chest compressions.
“911, what’s your emergency?” A monotone male voice answered.
“I need an ambulance, my aunt, there’s a lot of blood, she’s not breathing, please help me,” A broken sob tore its way out of his throat.
The operator’s voice softened, just a touch, “Okay kid, what’s your name?”
“Peter. Peter Parker.”
“Peter, I’m Max, do you know where you are?”
“No, I don’t, we’re somewhere between Queens Hospital and our um… our apartment. Please just help, there’s so much blood and she’s not breathing, please help, please please please, I need her, she’s all I have, please help me.”
“Okay Peter, I have an ambulance on its way, it should be there in about six minutes. Are you hurt?” Max’s voice was calm in a way that should’ve been soothing but instead just made him angry. How could someone be so calm when May was dead? Not dead, just unconscious. Not dead, just unconscious. Not dead, just unconscious. He repeated this mantra over and over in his head. May couldn’t be gone. She was all he had left. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodbye. He hadn’t even said goodbye.
Max was still talking, but Peter couldn’t hear it. The rushing in his ears had gotten too loud. He was still pushing up and down on May’s chest, his movements frantic and irregular. Her heart still wasn’t beating. He kept doing chest compressions.
Distantly, Peter heard the siren of the ambulance approaching the alley what felt like hours later, even though a part of Peter knew that was impossible. Max had said 6 minutes. He kept doing chest compressions.
The paramedics didn’t even try to save May. They took one look at the scene and called the cops. He kept doing chest compressions.
Eventually they dragged Peter away from May. They tried to talk to him, to convince him to go without hassle but in the end, he was pried away from May’s cold body by two paramedics kicking and screaming and sobbing. The cops tried to take him to the station for questioning but Peter violently refused to let May’s body out of his sight.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
Child Protective Services found Peter Parker staring vacantly at the morgue wall, holding the hand of a body that was mostly covered by a clean white sheet. He didn’t look up when they came in, the only indication that he was aware of their entry was the whitening of his knuckles as he clutched the corpse’s hand even tighter.
The shorter of the two women crouched down to Peter’s level, “Hey Peter, right? I’m Ayo and this is Jane, we’re from Child Protective Services. Do you know what CPS does, Peter?”
He blinked and then slowly nodded.
“That’s good, we’re here to help you. We want to ask you a few questions, is that okay, Peter?” Every word Ayo said felt like she was trying to defuse a bomb, carefully tip-toeing around a feral animal that could attack at any moment.
He nodded.
“Firstly, I’m so sorry to hear about your aunt May. I understand that you’ve lived with her since your parents died, do you have any other relatives you could stay with?”
Peter shook his head. He finally looked up from his hands and was met with Ayo’s pity-filled brown eyes. A surge of hatred welled from deep within him
“That’s okay. You’re fourteen years old, right?”
A nod.
“Well Peter, seeing as you’re a minor we’re going to have to find someone you can stay with. Luckily, we have a foster parent based right here in Queens who would be willing to take you in. His name is Steven. Steven Westcott. You’d be able to keep attending Midtown University, I hear you have a full ride scholarship. That’s incredible Peter, truly.” Ayo was smiling at him like everything she was saying was an incredible opportunity, like he should be grateful that May was dead. His whole body shook at the thought. May was dead. Gone. Lifeless.
Peter wanted to scream, wanted to wipe that stupidly kind smile off of Ayo’s face. Instead he simply nodded.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
A few hours later Peter found himself standing in his bedroom staring at everything he owned and trying not to think about how this would be the last time he would ever step foot in his childhood home. He couldn’t remember a life before this apartment - besides a few fleeting images of his parents. All he’d ever really known was May and Ben and the life they’d given him here. His stomach clenched when he thought about May. It was his fault she’d died, he knew that. May picked up all those extra shifts to provide for him. If it wasn’t for him she’d still be alive. Ben too. They’d both be alive if it weren’t for Peter Parker being a parasite who hurt everyone brave enough to love him.
His cheeks were wet again. He had thought he was all out of tears, but he’d clearly been wrong. Jane had followed him into the apartment and was waiting patiently at the door for him. He scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve and set to work packing his bags. He stuffed clothes and pictures into one bag. The other bag got his various projects, the Stark bandages, a new model of his web shooters, his shitty laptop, and any other knick knacks he cared enough to bring with him. The last thing was his suit. He shoved it roughly into the bag and quickly zipped it shut.
He could’ve saved her. If he wasn’t so weak he wouldn’t have passed out asleep that night. If he was stronger he would’ve gone on patrol. If he was smarter, braver, better - he could’ve saved her.
He scrubbed at his eyes again before grabbing his bags and following Jane back to Ayo’s waiting car.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
They arrived at Steven Wescott’s house just 14 hours after Peter had found May’s mutilated body. Wescott’s small two storey house was located on the opposite side of Queens, close enough to Manhattan that Peter could just about see the outline of the Avengers tower against the night sky.
He trailed behind the two case workers as they made their way up to the house. The door opened before either of the women could knock and Peter got his first look at Steven Wescott. All Peter could think about at first was how big the man was. His broad shoulders thoroughly filled out the door frame and, even though he was wearing a baggy shirt, Peter could tell that this was a man who thoroughly cared about his appearance and knew his way around a gym. His hair was a dark blonde that bordered on brown and he clearly cared just as much about his grooming as he did his body.
Wescott smiled broadly at the group and Peter felt his sense flare. Not a warning of immediate danger, but a firm ‘be careful’ .
“Hello, Mr. Wescott. I’m Ayo, we spoke on the phone, and this is my co-worker, Jane. And this here, of course, is Mr. Peter Parker.” Ayo gestured at Peter to stop forward and he reluctantly did. The large man extended his hand towards Peter, who looked at it apprehensively for a second too long. Wescott dropped his hand back to his side and Peter saw his smile flicker for just a second.
“Yes, yes! Hello everyone. I’m Skip - well, Steven but most people just call me Skip. Peter, how about we get you settled? The full tour can wait until the morning, I’m sure you’re pretty tired, huh?” Skip didn’t wait for a response, he simply turned on his heels and expected them to follow.
Skip led Peter and the two women upstairs, he quickly pointed out the bathroom before leading them into a bedroom.
“This is where you’ll be staying, there’s not a lot here but I didn’t want to decorate with anything you wouldn’t like. We’ll leave you to get settled and unpack. I’m sure these lovely ladies want to have a chat with me about the boring stuff. Good night, Petey.” Skip patted Peter on the shoulder as he left the room. Peter watched him go, and then watched the door for a few more minutes. Everything about the man made him uneasy; the smile that didn’t reach his eyes, the brisk pace he used to move from subject to subject, the nickname.
Peter was so emotionally exhausted that he really just couldn’t bring himself to care. He looked around the room. There was a bed against one wall, a wardrobe against another, and a desk with a window above it directly across from the door. Peter immediately shoved the bed into the corner and put all his bags underneath it. The hospital had given him clean sweatpants and a shirt once they’d eventually managed to tear him away from May’s body. He’d scrubbed her blood off his hands hours ago, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was still there.
He sat on the bed with his back to the wall so he could watch the door. He listened to Skip’s footsteps as he showed the case workers to the door. He listened to him say goodnight to them. He listened to him as he whistled and fussed around downstairs for a while. After a while, he listened as Skip made his way upstairs, passed by Peter’s new bedroom, and entered what Peter assumed to be his own bedroom. Even when Skip had stopped moving around, Peter listened to his breaths. It was only once the man’s breaths evened out in the room next door that Peter’s body betrayed him and fell asleep.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
Peter woke up to a man standing over him.
“Hey, hey, hey. Kid, calm it. You woke me up with all the screaming. You good?” Skip was standing there with his arms raised like he was being forced to surrender. Peter was shaking like a leaf on the bed. His throat hurt from screaming and he could feel tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
“Sorry,” Peter breathed.
Skip tilted his head, “Don’t apologize, just don’t make this a regular occurrence. I like my beauty sleep.”
Just like that, Skip was gone and Peter was left with the memory of May’s eyeless face echoing through his mind. A glance out the window told him it was still dark out, he’d only been asleep for a few hours at most. The thought of going back to sleep filled him with such a deep visceral dread that he decided to shrug on his suit and quietly snuck out the window.
Peter found himself on the roof of a nearby apartment block. All he wanted to do was to cry or scream or break something into a million pieces. Instead, he just laid there and ached. The teen felt like his soul was being torn apart, the truth of his situation was worming its way into his heart and the pain of it was unbearable. He hurt in a way that made him feel like his very essence was being torn away from him slowly and excruciatingly.
As he laid there curled up into a ball on a random rooftop in Queens, he felt exactly fourteen years old. Peter Parker had always felt older than his peers. He’d been forced to grow up quickly as a child - dead parents generally did that to someone - and had always thought of it as a strength, a badge of honour that somehow made him better than other kids his age. Right then, alone with the stars, Peter wished more than anything that he could be immature, that someone would take this pain away from him and let him be like every other carefree fourteen year old.
After a while all that remained was the pain that enveloped the boy and the ache for someone to wrap their arms around him and tell him it would all be okay.
But there was no one left.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
Peter crawled back into what was, apparently, his new bedroom around 6am. He didn’t particularly feel like doing anything - so he sat on the bed and clicked on his phone. Ned had sent him four different TikToks of various Star Wars ship edits that Peter didn’t even glance at. There were three missed calls from Louise Wolfe and then a message asking if he was okay. He didn’t answer those either.
Instead, Peter started checking out the local news sites. There were multiple articles about a brutal murder that had occurred in the early hours of yesterday morning. There was even a picture of the blood soaked alleyway where his heart had been ripped from his chest. Even after all his searching there wasn’t a single mention of a suspect.
Skip woke up at seven and was knocking on Peter’s door at ten past. He didn’t wait for Peter to answer before letting himself in.
“Good morning! Get dressed and come downstairs so we can have a proper chat and tour,” Skip glanced around the room as he spoke, and a deep crease appeared in his forehead. “You moved the bed.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah, is… is that okay? I could move it back?” Peter didn’t understand why it mattered, he’d only moved it a few feet.
“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just surprised - that bed is pretty heavy and you look like you weigh about 100 pounds soaking wet!” Skip laughed at himself and didn’t seem to care that Peter wasn’t laughing with him.
“I go to the gym,” It was an easy lie, even if it wasn’t extremely believable.
Skip looked him up and down slowly and an emotion Peter couldn’t quite place flicked across his face. “Could’ve fooled me. Anyways, breakfast in five.”
Peter changed into a pair of sweatpants that hadn’t been slept in and plugged his phone in before reluctantly making his way downstairs. As he descended, the smell of eggs and bacon caused his stomach to growl angrily and the realization that he hadn’t eaten since that pizza over twenty-four hours ago dawned on him. His metabolism had increased to such a point that he’d grown used to being hungry almost all the time. May had thought his increased appetite since the bite was a simple side effect of puberty - oh. A fresh wave of grief and regret washed over him. He’d never get the chance to tell his aunt the truth about being Spider-Man - this new realization brought fresh tears to his eyes. He was so fucking sick of crying.
The kitchen he found Skip in was bigger than the one from his and May’s apartment. There were two plates laden with breakfast food set out on opposite ends of the table and Skip seemed to be busy making himself a cup of coffee. Peter stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of whether or not he was supposed to sit down or not.
Skip spotted Peter loitering and gestured at him to take a seat - Peter complied and he sat there staring at his hands and trying not to bounce his leg or touch anything he wasn’t supposed to. He felt like he’d been dropped in the middle on no man’s land and he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do or how he was supposed to navigate through his new surroundings without stepping on a landmine.
Skip sat across from him just a few moments later, a freshly brewed coffee in hand.
“Okay Petey, here’s the plan. You have the freedom to come and go as you please but I have a strict 11pm curfew, don’t be late and we won’t have a problem. I’m the head of my department over at Oscorp, meaning I work long and strange hours so we won’t see very much of each other. No alcohol or drugs. Help yourself to the food, just don’t eat me out of the house. Don’t get in trouble with the cops, you’re my fifth foster placement and none of the rest have caused any problems. Do not, and I mean this, do not be the first one to bring the cops to my door. I don’t need that shit on my record, okay?” Skip stared straight at Peter as he spoke, his eye contact intense and unwavering, and he didn’t stutter once. Peter supposed that he’d been able to practice this speech on the last four kids who’d been here.
Skip didn’t drop the eye contact until Peter nodded and then the harsh look on his face vanished and he was smiling once again, “Eat up then! Oh, don’t expect a feast like this every day, you’re gonna have to learn your own way around the kitchen.”
The rest of breakfast was spent with Skip asking Peter questions and Peter answering in as few words as possible. Before he left for work, the man informed Peter that he was scheduled to meet with the police at noon. Apparently, Midtown had been made aware of the situation and were allowing Peter as much time off as needed. School hadn’t even crossed Peter’s mind until Skip had mentioned it. The thought of going back to school just seemed so… juvenile. How could he go back to school when he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing May’s corpse?
He supposed that he didn’t have much of a choice, especially considering his other option was to just hang around Skip’s house.
Peter spent no more than ten minutes looking around the house once Skip left. There wasn’t anything much of note, bar a few photos of the blonde man with teenage boys holding diplomas. Peter supposed they were Skip’s previous foster children. The only other thing of note in the house was a securely locked cabinet under the stairs that Peter didn’t have the energy to care about.
He grabbed his phone from his new bedroom and left the house. He had a few hours to kill before he was due in the police station but he couldn’t bring himself to stay in that house a second longer than he had to.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
The police station was teeming with cops when Peter arrived. He told the tired looking receptionist that he was there and was escorted into an empty interrogation room. A few moments later a kind looking police woman entered the room and sat down across from the kid.
“Peter, right?” The woman’s smile was warm in a way that reminded Peter of May. “My name is Daisy Greene, I’m the lead detective on your aunt’s case. I understand that a lot has been happening over the past couple of days and if at any point during our discussion you want to take a break or stop completely we can do that.”
Peter nodded.
“Okay, I’m going to ask you a few questions about what occurred during the early hours of yesterday morning leading up to your discovery of May Parker’s body.”
The interview with Detective Greene went about the same as his breakfast with Skip. Greene asked Peter question after question and Peter answered in as few words as possible. The only difference being that this time around Peter spent the whole time trying, and failing, not to cry as he remembered everything that had happened in graphic detail.
After almost two hours, the detective announced that they were done- unless Peter had any questions for her.
“Do you… do you know how the whole burial thing works? I don’t- I don’t have any money and there’s no one else who would help.” Peter’s voice cracked as he spoke. Detective Greene’s face softened.
“In situations like these the state will cover the cost of burial and nothing more, she likely won’t have an official funeral. I’m so sorry, Peter.”
“Okay. Thank you.” Peter didn’t wait around a second longer, he pushed his chair back and left the room.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
Peter Parker went back to his new home, curled up into a ball on his new bed, and cried until he had nothing left to give the world.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
He forced himself to move a few hours later when his phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. He knew it was Ned calling before he even picked up the phone. He contemplated answering it for so long that it rang out, but it immediately started ringing again. Peter had a feeling that Ned would keep ringing all night until Peter picked up.
So he did.
“Hi,” He whispered, his voice hoarse from the hours he’d spent crying.
“Peter! Oh my god, Peter. Oh thank fuck. I’ve been calling for ages. I was so worried… are you okay? I saw on the news about May and I didn’t know if you were okay and I’m so sorry dude. Oh my god, I’m so fucking sorry, Peter. This is all just so… it’s all shit.” Ned’s voice shook as he spoke and Peter wasn’t sure he had taken a breath throughout all of that.
“It’s very shit indeed,” Peter agreed, a small smile forming on his face. Everything he had ever known might have been taken from him, but Ned was still Ned and Peter had never been happier to hear someone’s voice.
“Where are you? Are you safe?” Ned asked suddenly, his voice sharp with concern.
“They put me in foster care. I’m living with this guy called Skip on the other side of town. I’m… I’m safe,” Peter wasn’t sure why he stuttered. At the end of the day, Skip had given him no reason to feel unsafe or unwanted. The line was silent for so long that Peter had to make sure the signal hadn’t dropped, “Ned?”
“I’m here,” Ned said quietly, “I’m just… this is so shit. Can you- Do you want to come over?”
A glance at his phone gave Peter an easy out, “Can’t, my curfew is in 20 minutes.”
“The news said they don’t even know who did it…”
Peter’s breath caught in his lungs, “No suspects. No leads. No motive. Ned I need you to do me a favor, can we not talk about this right now? I just don’t want to think or deal with, well, any of this right now.”
“Sure. Okay, yeah. Sure thing,” Peter could practically hear Ned’s brain going into overdrive as he tried to change the subject. “Oh, you missed Abe making an absolute fool out of Flash at decathlon practice today. It was so funny, so basically-”
Peter listened to Ned ramble on about every topic under the sun for the next hour and a half, chiming in and reacting as needed. He only interrupted Ned when he heard the lock of the front door click open. “I think I have to go, Skip just got back.”
“Oh, okay. I love you dude, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Love you too, Ned.” And Peter hung up.
In the absence of Ned’s voice, Peter did what he was quickly getting very good at and listened. He listened as Skip ate something in the kitchen before making his way upstairs and stopped outside Peter’s bedroom door. Peter held his breath as he listened to the man slowly open the door. It didn’t creak or squeal as Skip opened it, the door simply swung open. The man’s eyes widened slightly when he saw Peter sitting there awake.
“Just making sure you haven’t run off or anything,” The man said with a soft smile. “Good night, Petey.”
Peter let out the breath he’d been holding in one large gasp the second the man left the room. He didn’t let himself relax until he heard Skip’s breaths even out with sleep.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
The next few days followed a similar pattern. Peter and Skip saw each other fleetingly in the mornings. Peter spent his days crying or roaming the streets of New York City - sometimes as Peter, sometimes as Spider-Man. He was too nervous to patrol at night, he quickly realized that Skip’s schedule was completely unpredictable and erratic. Sometimes he’d be home early enough that they ate dinner together, other nights he didn’t come home until early the next morning. The only thing Peter was sure about in regards to Skip’s return home was that Skip would open Peter’s bedroom door and watch for a minute, sometimes two, as Peter pretended to be asleep.
A week after May’s death Peter went back to school. The single most jarring thing about returning was the realization that May’s death hadn’t drastically altered every little thing about his life. Apparently, school was still school. Teachers gave him pitying looks and offered their condolences and a few of his peers whispered things about how tragic it all was, but other than that school was just… school.
He was sitting at lunch with Ned and MJ when the email came through.
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Internship Application
Dear Mr. Peter Benjamin Parker,
We are delighted to inform you that you have been successful in your application. If you are still interested in the position, please respond to this email with a YES. If you reply YES a member of the department that has chosen you will be in touch over the coming days.
Please see attached the terms and conditions of your internship, should you choose to accept it.
Kind Regards,
The Stark Industries Team
For the first time that week, Peter felt a genuine toothy grin form on his face. He silently turned the phone so that Ned and MJ could see it.
“NO WAY!” Ned, quite literally, shouted. A few people at neighboring tables turned to see what the commotion was all about.
MJ grinned at him, “About time they recognize your genius.”
Peter was so unbelievably excited that all he could do was grin at his phone. He couldn’t believe that he’d actually pulled it off. Stark Industries’ internship programs were known for only accepting the smartest of college kids that were on their way to reinventing the wheel. Peter was, quite literally, none of those things. He’d even lied on his application about his age and had chosen to simply hope that no one would notice. Stark Industries was also known for paying their interns very well. May’s car had just broken down when he’d applied and they had really needed the money.
May.
God, Peter really wished he could tell May about this.
His cheeks were wet again.
For the first time since he’d discovered May’s mutilated body, he had people who cared enough about him to try to comfort him. Ned put his arms around Peter and pulled him close while MJ stared down any prying eyes. Peter didn’t allow himself to break down fully, he counted to ten, took a few deep breaths, and dried his eyes.
“Sorry,” he whispered to Ned.
“Shut up, dude.”
“I just… I miss talking to her,” Peter pulled away from Ned and instead buried his face in his hands.
“Of course you do,” MJ stated. Coming from anyone else it would feel cold and judgmental, but it was weirdly comforting coming from MJ. “Now you better answer that email or I will email Stark Industries with proof that their newest intern is, in fact, a fourteen year old kid.”
Peter half laughed and half sniffled before typing ‘YES’.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
Peter’s phone rang as he was making himself a dinner that consisted of cereal and a can of peaches - he’d never learned how to cook, he’d just put up with May’s efforts. The lack of a caller ID and Peter’s hatred for talking on the phone caused him to hesitate before answering. He carefully set the milk carton back in the fridge before clicking the green answer button, “Hello?”
“I thought you’d never pick up, I thought kids your age were supposed to be glued to their phones 24/7. Shit-” A clatter in the background caused Peter to wince.
“Excuse me, I don’t want to be rude but, uh, who is this?” Peter questioned.
The person on the other line scoffed, “You apply to work for my company - and lie during that process, yes, I know about that - and you have the audacity to ask me who I am?”
Peter suddenly realized why the quick-talking voice on the other line was extremely familiar, “Tony Stark?” It came out as a gasp more than anything.
“And the other shoe finally drops. So, can you start tomorrow? I’ve been thinking about getting myself an intern for longer than you’ve been alive, Mr. Parker.”
“I’m sorry, what is happening right now?” Peter’s voice had gone up a full octave out of sheer shock and confusion.
“You applied for an internship and you got it. You are officially the first intern to have had such an impressive application that I personally selected you to work with me. The research labs are sort of pissed off that I stole you from them, luckily there’s nothing they can do about it. Perks of being boss, I suppose.” The whole time Stark was speaking there was a constant clattering of tools against metal in the background, “So, can you start tomorrow?”
Peter was so shocked that all he could think to say was, “I have school.”
A groan, “I knew there was a reason we didn’t let high schoolers intern. I’ll send someone to collect you from school and you can come straight here. Midtown Tech, right? I can have someone talk to your parents if that’ll be a problem.”
“No, no, it’s fine. There’s no problem with my… parents or anything.” Peter didn’t know how he was even supposed to begin to explain his current parental situation to Tony fucking Stark.
“Look out for the grumpy man in the black SUV,” And then the line went dead as Stark hung up. Peter stared at his phone for a few moments in utter disbelief before doing the only thing he could think to do. He sat down with his dinner and called Ned.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
Peter woke up screaming that night. Every time he fell asleep he was ravaged with nightmares. They were a collage of the horrors he’d seen on patrol, Ben dying in his arms, May’s screams when she found out about Ben, that time The Vulture had dropped a building on him, and - most frequently - May’s corpse. Most nights he woke up in a cold sweat or gasping for air, but he hadn’t woken up screaming since that very first night.
His heart was racing as he flicked on the light and tried to blink away the bloody images flashing through his mind. The pounding of his heart sounded like a stampede and his clothes were so soaked with sweat that he was quickly beginning to shiver. He shrugged off his t-shirt and pajama pants and rooted around in his bags for a change of clothes. His hands shook so badly that he struggled to unzip his backpack.
Without warning, the door opened.
Peter startled upright as Skip stepped into the room and was suddenly extremely aware that he was standing there with only his Hulk boxers on.
“I heard screaming,” Skip started, tilting his head to the side, “I thought we agreed there would be no more screaming.”
Peter nodded and hugged his arms around his chest, “Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”
Skip stepped forward and put his hands on Peter’s shoulders before pulling him in for a hug. Peter froze.
“Don’t worry about it, Petey.” Skip rubbed Peter’s back as they stood there. Peter was completely paralysed with fear as the man’s large frame enveloped him. The one-sided embrace continued on for a few more moments until, eventually, Skip let go of Peter and ruffled his hair as he left.
Peter quickly dressed himself again before returning to bed. He lay there until morning and tried not to think about how dangerously low Skip's hands had gone.
🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸
School the next day dragged. Peter tried to be excited about his internship and the fact that he would be meeting Tony ‘Ironman’ Stark in just a few hours but his brain kept circling back to Skip’s hands and how tightly he’d held Peter against him.
After what felt like years of nodding along to Ned’s ramblings and pretending to be interested in the roles of Edgar and Edmund in King Lear the bell finally rang. He said a quick goodbye to his friends before turning on his heels and rushing out the door. Peter spotted the brand new SUV instantly, the indulgent design made it hard to miss and the man inside looked sufficiently grumpy. Peter approached the vehicle and carefully opened the door, making sure not to scratch the immaculate paint job.
“Hi, uh, I’m Peter?”
“I know. Get in so we can get out of here,” The man looked like the idea of being here was beneath him. Peter tried not to take it personally.
“So uh, are you like Mr. Stark’s chauffeur or something?” Peter asked in an effort to make conversation.
“No, although he definitely acts like it. Head of security for the entirety of Stark Industries and Tony still has me running around after him like a lapdog.”
Peter didn’t know how to respond to that so instead he tilted his head against the headrest and closed his eyes and didn’t open them until he heard the sound of a garage door opening. The man, who still hadn’t told Peter his name, parked in between two other identical jeeps and gestured at Peter to get out. The teen stumbled out of the SUV and followed the older man towards what appeared to be an elevator.
“The elevator will take you to Tony’s private lab,” The man said, already beginning to turn and leave.
“Uhh thank you, Mr…?”
“Hogan, Happy Hogan.” The man didn’t even turn around to answer.
“Thanks, Mr. Hogan!” Peter half-shouted at the man’s back before stepping into the elevator.
The elevator doors shut and it immediately started to rise, without Peter having to press a single button. As the elevator rose, at a slightly scary pace, a voice spoke, “Peter Benjamin Parker, I have been instructed to take you directly to Mr. Stark’s lab.”
“Oh, okay. Who are you?” Peter had a hunch, but he had to know for sure.
“I am FRIDAY, an artificial intelligence programmed by Mr. Stark. I was designed to be an assistant and I will answer any questions you may have, so long as you are of the correct security status.” Peter’s eyes widened in awe as FRIDAY spoke. He had only messed around with AI coding when he was bored but he knew enough to realize he was speaking to one of the most technologically advanced developments of recent years.
The door slid open at the exact same moment FRIDAY announced, “We have arrived.”
Peter stepped out of the elevator and was greeted with chaos. A man was frantically trying to use his t-shirt to put out a small fire as a robot wildly swung a fire extinguisher around and provided absolutely no help. Peter’s instincts immediately kicked in and he grabbed a nearby jug of cold coffee and emptied its contents all over the workbench. The man, who Peter could now recognize as Tony Stark, grinned at him.
“Well, I’d like to say that this isn’t a regular occurrence but that just wouldn’t be the truth,” Stark turned to Peter and extended his hand, “Mr. Parker.”
Peter shook his hand, “Thank you so much for this opportunity, Mr. Stark. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“Well, considering you somehow developed something that the medical community has been trying to create for the last fifty years you really gave me no other option.” Stark walked as he spoke and Peter had to hurry to keep up with the man. “So, tell me about yourself, Mr. Parker.”
Peter’s mouth started moving before he could stop it, “It’s Peter, just Peter. I wish I could say Mr. Parker is my father’s name but my father died when I was four so I have no idea if people called him Mr. Parker or not. I don’t really know why I’m telling you this, uh I’m going to shut up now.”
He didn’t know how he expected Stark to respond, but it certainly wasn’t with a manic grin.
“Anything else I should know? Or is your defining character trait that your parents are dead?”
“I’m not actually nineteen.” Peter couldn’t help but return Stark’s grin, it was infectious.
“I never would have guessed,” Stark gasped with mock shock.
Stark spent the next hour simultaneously giving Peter a tour of the lab and quizzing him on topics he considered vital to the internship - which included asking Peter for his opinions on rock music.
“Here’s the deal; I want to work with you, you remind me of a dorkier version of myself and I love me.” Peter scoffed at the comment, “If you could develop those bandages with whatever shitty materials you had access to, I want to see what you could develop here with me. I could have Happy collect you from school every day and bring you here, if that’s something you’d like?”
“Yes, yes please. That would be amazing. Thank you, Mr, Stark.” Peter quickly replied.
“Well then, I’ll see you tomorrow and we can talk about how the fuck you made those bandages. Happy should be waiting where you left him, he’ll be more than happy to take you home.” Stark said that last part with a knowing smile, clearly aware of Happy’s disdain for being a taxi service.
“Something tells me he won’t be. Goodbye, Mr. Stark.” Peter gave a small awkward wave as he walked towards the elevator.
“See you tomorrow, kid.”