Archive of Our Own

The forest shouldn’t have been this loud.

Branches cracked under heavy impacts. Dirt sprayed up where claws hit the ground. Somewhere deeper between the trees, something hissed, low, wet, and wrong, followed by a shriek sharp enough to make the skin crawl.

Steve braced himself as one of the lizard-like creatures slammed into his shield. The impact rattled through his arm, boots digging into the soil as he shoved back hard, sending it stumbling.

“Okay.” He said into the comms, breathing steady but tight, “They’re fast. Watch your spacing.”

“Copy.” Natasha replied, already moving. Her voice was calm, but her body language wasn’t, sharp, precise, constantly shifting. “They’re circling.”

“That’s not comforting.” Clint muttered as he pointed an arrow, dropping one creature mid-leap. “Tony, next time you say ‘quick sweep,’ remind me to laugh harder.”

“I didn’t say quick.” Tony shot back, repulsors flaring as he blasted another creature off a tree trunk. “I said ‘manageable.’ Those are completely different words.”

A web suddenly snapped past Clint’s head, yanking a lizard sideways before it could reach him.

“Whoa—!” Clint flinched. “Kid! Little warning next time!”

“Sorry! Sorry! I saw teeth and panicked!” Spider-Man’s voice came over the comms, breathless, pitched a little too high to sound relaxed. He landed awkwardly on a branch nearby, skidding in leaves before springing back up. “You’re welcome, though!”

Natasha glanced at him briefly, eyes sharp. “You’re getting too close. You don’t know how many of them are left.”

“I mean, yeah, that’s fair.” Peter said, already backing up as another creature charged. He flipped over it, webbing its legs mid-air and slamming it into a tree. The tree shook violently. “But also, if I don’t get close, they eat us, so, pros and cons?”

Steve frowned slightly. He’d been doing this long enough to recognize beginner fighters. Spider-Man moved like one, fast, reactive, but sloppy in places. Like someone still learning where the limits were.

“Tony.” Steve said carefully. “You sure about him?”

There was a half-second pause on the line.

“Cap.” Tony replied, voice lighter than it should’ve been, “I don’t let random strangers swing around near billion-dollar tech. Relax.”

Clint snorted. “That’s not actually reassuring.”

Another shriek echoed through the forest as two creatures burst from the underbrush. Peter reacted first, maybe too fast, firing webs blindly and jumping back.

“Okay, okay, okay, too many, too many.” He muttered, audible over the comms. “Why are there so many?”

“Focus.” Natasha snapped, ducking under a swipe and driving a blade into a creature’s throat. “Stop talking and move.”

“Moving! Definitely moving!” Peter replied, scrambling up a tree, then freezing for a second as one of the creatures climbed after him with terrifying ease. “Oh. Oh that’s bad.”

Clint glanced up. “Yeah, that’s real bad.”

Before anyone could say more, a repulsor blast knocked the creature off the trunk mid-climb.

“Eyes up, kid.” Tony said, tone clipped but controlled. “You miss things when you panic.”

Spider-Man swallowed hard, clinging to the tree. “I— yeah. Sorry. I’m trying.”

Steve heard it then, not just nerves, but effort. Real effort. Whoever this was, he wasn’t playing hero. He was scared and still showing up.

“Hey.” Steve said, steady and grounding. “You’re doing fine. Just don’t rush.”

Spider-Man nodded instinctively, even though Steve couldn’t see him. “Right. Okay. Don’t rush. I can do that.”

Natasha wasn’t convinced. “He’s inexperienced.” She said quietly. “Fast, but sloppy.”

“Yeah.” Clint added, drawing another arrow. “And loud.”

“I can hear you!” Spider-Man protested, firing a web that stuck two creatures together mid-charge. “I’m right here!”

“And that’s the problem.” Clint muttered.

Another roar thundered through the forest, deeper than the others. Everything went still for half a second, the creatures, the birds, even the wind.

Steve tightened his grip on his shield. “That wasn’t one of them.”

“Wasn’t me guys.” Clint said.

Tony exhaled slowly. “Nope. That’s something bigger.”

Spider-Man’s voice dropped, fear bleeding through despite his effort to hide it. “Bigger than… these?”

“Yes.” Natasha said. “Much.”

There was a brief silence on the comms. Then Spider-Man spoke again, quieter this time.

“…Okay. Still here. Still fighting.”

Tony closed his eyes for just a moment inside the suit.

“Good.” He said. “That’s all I need from you.”

And as the forest trembled again, the Avengers braced themselves, still unsure about the masked kid swinging through the trees, still questioning whether he belonged there, while Tony Stark watched him closer than anyone else ever would.

The warning came too late.

The ground beneath them sank, not violently, not yet, just enough for Steve to feel it through the soles of his boots, a subtle dip like the forest was exhaling.

“Hold.” He said instinctively. “Something’s—”

The earth split open.

Soil and stone burst upward as something forced its way out from below, tearing a jagged scar through the forest floor. Roots snapped like twigs. Trees tilted, some collapsing outright as dirt rained down in choking clouds.

A long, narrow body erupted from the hole, rising fast, unfolding in a smooth, horrifying motion.

Spider-Man froze mid-step. “That’s— nope. That’s definitely new.”

The creature lifted itself higher, revealing its full length as it arched above them. It was a snake, thin compared to its size, built for speed rather than bulk, but impossibly long, easily ten meters from head to tail. Its scales were familiar, the same rough, armored texture as the lizard creatures they’d been fighting, layered thick and dull like living armor.

Its head swayed slowly, tasting the air.

Natasha didn’t take her eyes off it. “Same biology.” She said quietly. “Different form.”

“Great.” Clint muttered. “So it slithers instead of charges. That’s worse.”

The snake hissed, the sound deep and resonant, vibrating through the ground. Its body coiled loosely, muscles shifting beneath the scales in a way that made it clear, this thing was strong.

“Don’t let it wrap around you.” Steve warned. “Once it—”

Peter moved before he finished the sentence.

“On it!” he said, adrenaline already spiking. He fired a rapid burst of webbing at the snake’s lower body, anchoring the strands to trees, rocks, anything solid nearby. “Just gonna stick it down, buy some time.”

The webbing stretched tight.

For a moment, the snake slowed.

Then it flexed.

The webs tore apart with a sharp, snapping sound, strands whipping uselessly through the air.

Peter barely had time to react.

The snake struck sideways, fast enough to blur. Its body wrapped around Spider-Man’s midsection mid-jump, slamming him hard into the air and ripping the breath from his lungs.

“Gah—!”

The rest of the creature followed instantly, looping around him in rapid succession. One coil crushed around his waist. Another locked around his chest, pinning his arms. A third tightened higher, pressing him inward from all sides.

“Spider-Man!” Steve shouted.

Spider-Man struggled, instinct taking over. He twisted, kicked, tried to fire a web, but his arms were trapped against his sides.

“No, no, wait—” He gasped, panic bleeding into his voice. “This is bad, this is really bad—”

The pressure increased.

The snake constricted with terrifying patience, squeezing tighter with every small movement he made.

His chest compressed painfully. Air left his lungs in a sharp, involuntary gasp, and when he tried to inhale again, there wasn’t enough room.

“I can’t—” He choked. “I—can’t breathe—”

“Kid, stop thrashing!” Clint yelled. “You’re helping it!”

“I’m trying—” Spider-Man said, voice cracking. His breaths came short and shallow now, uneven, every inhale scraping against the pressure crushing his ribs inward.

Tony’s voice cut through the chaos, stripped of humor. “Hey. Listen to me. Slow down. Don’t fight it head-on—”

The snake tightened again.

Spider-Man cried out, the sound breaking off as his chest was compressed further. His vision began to dim around the edges, dark spots blooming as the forest tilted and blurred.

“I—I can’t—” He whispered, barely audible over the comms.

The scales were cold and unyielding against his suit, digging in as the coils shifted tighter, tighter, squeezing the air from him inch by inch. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, too loud, too fast, drowning everything else out.

His hands twitched uselessly.

The snake hissed again, louder, and began to pull him inward, dragging him closer to the center of its coils.

“Tony!” Steve started.

“I see it,” Tony snapped, already firing, already moving.

Spider-Man’s breathing broke into shallow gasps, each one weaker than the last.

The snake tightened.

At first, it was almost subtle, just a minute shift in pressure, muscle sliding over muscle as the coils adjusted their grip. If anyone had blinked, they might’ve missed it.

Peter felt it immediately.

The coil around his chest drew in by what felt like a fraction of an inch, and suddenly the air that had been barely moving in and out of his lungs was gone. Not pushed out, but crushed out. He was sure at least two of his ribs were broken. His breath left him in a sharp, involuntary gasp, the sound breaking halfway through as pain detonated in his side.

His body jerked on instinct, back arching against the coils as something inside his chest gave way with a dull, hollow sensation that made his vision flash white. He tried to inhale again and couldn’t. His lungs refused to expand, like they’d hit an invisible wall.

“Ah—!” The sound tore out of him, raw and uncontrolled, before it collapsed into a strangled wheeze.

“Hey!” Clint said, alarm bleeding into his voice. “He’s not—Tony!”

The snake didn’t stop.

It felt Peter react. Felt the sudden tension, the reflexive struggle. And it adjusted again.

The coils slid, tightening in a slow, deliberate sequence, redistributing pressure with terrifying precision. One loop shifted higher, pinning Spider-Man’s arm hard against his side. He tried to pull it free, panic flaring as he felt the angle was wrong, really wrong, but the movement only made the pressure spike.

“No, wait—!” he tried to say, but it came out broken, breathy.

The pressure increased.

Something in his arm gave with a sharp, internal crack, pain exploding outward so violently it stole the sound from his throat. His body shuddered hard, then sagged slightly in the coils as his arm went numb, then heavy, then wrong in a way his brain didn’t want to fully process.

The scream never fully came. It cut off halfway, strangled by the lack of air, dissolving into a hoarse, panicked sound that barely made it through the comms.

“Kid!” Steve shouted, already moving, shield raised as if he could somehow pry muscle apart with force alone.

Peter couldn’t answer.

His breathing had turned into short, useless reflexes, tiny gasps that didn’t actually pull in air. Every attempt scraped painfully through his chest, his ribs screaming in protest. The world narrowed, sound warping and stretching, the forest fading into indistinct smears of color.

“I can’t—” he tried, but the words fell apart before they left his mouth.

Tony was silent.

Not frozen, never frozen, but quiet in a way that made everyone else feel it. Inside the suit, alarms were screaming. Oxygen levels. Heart rate. Impact stress. Too much data, too little time.

“Hey.” Tony said finally, voice low, urgent, threaded with something dangerously close to panic. “Stay with me. Kid, look at me. Don’t fight it, just stay awake.”

The snake tightened again.

Not by much.

It didn’t need to.

Spider-Man’s chest compressed further, the pressure unrelenting, crushing. His vision tunneled sharply, dark closing in from the edges as his heartbeat thundered too loud in his ears. The pain blurred, then dulled, replaced by a heavy, spreading numbness.

His head lolled slightly.

The coils held him firmly now, his body no longer resisting.

“…sorry.” He whispered, the word barely audible.

Then his body went slack.

“He’s out.” Natasha said quietly, eyes locked on the way Spider-Man’s limbs hung loose in the coils.

The snake lifted its head.

Slowly.

Almost lazily.

Its jaws spread wide, muscles pulling back to reveal rows of curved, glistening teeth as it brought Spider-Man closer, coils tightening just enough to keep him perfectly still.

Something in Tony snapped.

“Nope.” He said, voice flat and deadly calm. “Absolutely not.”

The laser fired straight into the open mouth.

White-hot energy tore through the creature’s throat in a blinding flash, lighting the forest like a second sun. The snake shrieked, the sound violent and ear-splitting, echoing through the trees as its body convulsed in agony.

The coils loosened.

Not cleanly. Not gently.

The snake thrashed wildly, smashing into trees, ripping up the forest floor as its control shattered. The precise, crushing grip dissolved into chaos as the creature recoiled from the pain.

Peter slipped free.

His body dropped.

Steve was already moving.

He lunged forward without thinking, shield clattering uselessly to the ground as he caught the limp weight mid-fall. The impact drove Steve down onto one knee, arms locking instinctively around Peter to keep him from hitting the ground.

“I’ve got him.” Steve said, breathless, voice tight as he adjusted his grip, careful not to jostle him more than necessary.

Peter didn’t stir.

His head lolled against Steve’s shoulder, mask scuffed and cracked, chest rising only faintly. One arm hung at an odd angle, unmoving.

Tony didn’t look away.

He fired again.

Another blast slammed into the snake’s head, snapping it sideways with enough force to crater the dirt beneath it. The creature’s body slammed down hard, thrashing slowing to weak, erratic spasms.

Tony fired a third time.

Then a fourth.

The snake shuddered once more.

And then it went completely still.

Dead.

The forest fell silent so abruptly it felt unreal.

Leaves drifted down slowly through the air, settling over torn earth and broken branches. Smoke curled faintly where the blasts had scorched bark and soil.

Steve looked down at the unconscious figure in his arms.

“Easy.” He murmured instinctively, even though Peter was still out cold.

The forest around them had gone eerily quiet. No more screeches. No movement except drifting ash and leaves slowly settling back to the ground. The massive body of the snake lay stretched out nearby, unmistakably lifeless now, its long form half-cratered into the earth where it had fallen.

Tony hovered a few steps away, repulsors dim, helmet still on. He hadn’t moved since the last blast. His head was angled toward Steve and the unconscious figure in his arms, every system in the suit trained on the faint rise and fall of Spider-Man’s chest.

“Is he breathing?” Clint asked, already jogging over, bow lowered but not slung away.

“Yeah.” Steve answered quietly. “Shallow, but steady.”

Natasha approached more slowly, eyes scanning Spider-Man with clinical focus. She crouched slightly, careful not to crowd him. “He took a lot of pressure.” She said. “That thing wasn’t playing around.”

“Kid’s tougher than he looks.” Clint muttered, though there was no humor in it this time.

Steve adjusted his grip, getting up fully so Peter’s weight was supported more evenly. He kept one arm braced behind the boy’s back, the other under his knees.

Tony finally took a step closer.

“Don’t move him too much.” Tony said, voice controlled but tight. “Let him wake up on his own.”

Steve nodded. “I’ve got him.”

For a few seconds, nothing happened.

Then Peter twitched.

It was subtle at first, just a slight jerk through his shoulders, a sharp inhale that broke the steady rhythm of his breathing. His fingers curled weakly, then tightened.

“Hey.” Steve said softly. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Peter sucked in another breath, much faster this time, then another. His chest rose sharply, unevenly, as panic surged back in all at once.

“Can’t—” He gasped, voice hoarse and raw. “Can’t breathe—”

He jolted awake.

Too fast.

His body surged forward on pure instinct, ripping out of Steve’s hold before anyone could react.

“Whoa—!” Steve reached for him, but Peter was already scrambling backward, hands slipping in the dirt as he tried to get his feet under him.

“Hey, easy!” Clint said quickly. “Kid, slow down!”

Peter tried to stand.

His legs didn’t cooperate.

He got halfway up before his knees buckled, dumping him unceremoniously back onto the ground with a sharp thud and a startled noise that sounded more embarrassed than pained.

“Ah—!” He sucked in a breath, then another, breathing too fast now, chest hitching. “Okay, okay! Nope, Nope, bad idea—”

He sat there on the forest floor, legs bent awkwardly in front of him, one arm pulled in close to his side without him quite realizing why. His breathing was loud in the sudden silence, quick and shallow, panic clearly clawing its way back in.

“I need—” he said, then stopped, swallowing hard. “I need air—”

Before anyone could stop him, he reached up with his good hand and yanked his mask off.

The fabric came away easily.

And suddenly, there was no Spider-Man sitting in the dirt.

Just a kid.

He couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen. Messy brown hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Wide, unfocused eyes darting around as he dragged in breath after breath, chest rising and falling too fast. His face was pale, freckles standing out starkly against flushed skin.

He pressed the palm of his hand against his mouth for a second, trying to slow his breathing, eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh my god.” Clint breathed.

Natasha froze.

Steve didn’t move at all.

Tony felt his stomach drop out from under him, even though he’d known, had always known. Seeing it like this was different. No suit. No mask. No distance.

Just Peter.

Peter sucked in another shaky breath, eyes opening as he looked up, and froze.

Four pairs of eyes were staring at him.

Not at Spider-Man.

At him.

The realization hit all at once.

“Oh.” Peter said faintly.

For half a second, no one spoke.

Then Clint broke the silence, voice low and disbelieving. “You’re… you’re a kid.”

Peter let out a weak, breathless laugh that didn’t sound like laughter at all. “Yeah.” He said. “Um. Surprise?”

Steve’s mouth opened.

Tony saw it.

“Steve.” Tony said sharply.

Steve stopped mid-breath.

Tony stepped forward, helmet retracting as he knelt beside Peter, positioning himself just slightly in front of him without being obvious about it.

“Hey.” Tony said, softer now. “Don’t move. You just took a hit.”

Peter nodded quickly, then winced and sucked in a breath. “Yeah. Not planning on it. Learned that lesson.”

Natasha’s gaze hadn’t left Peter’s face. “How old are you?” She asked quietly.

Peter hesitated.

Tony cut in immediately. “That’s not important right now.”

Natasha glanced at him, something sharp and unreadable flickering behind her eyes, but she didn’t argue.

Peter shifted again, instinctively trying to push himself up straighter, and immediately hissed, breath catching painfully. His free hand flew to his side as he curled forward slightly.

“Okay, wow that hurts.” He muttered.

Steve’s hands clenched at his sides.

“You’re injured.” Steve said, voice careful, controlled. “You shouldn’t be sitting like that.”

Peter looked up at him, eyes wide again, something almost like guilt flickering across his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, uh—”

He trailed off, clearly not sure what to apologize for.

Clint shook his head slowly. “You fought a ten-meter murder snake. Don’t apologize.”

Tony stayed close, one hand hovering near Peter’s shoulder without touching. “Breathe with me, kid. Slow. In through your nose.”

Peter tried. It took a few attempts, but gradually his breathing evened out, becoming less frantic, though still shallow.

Steve finally spoke again, quieter this time. “You should have told us.”

Tony turned his head just enough to shoot him a warning look.

Steve caught it, and stopped.

The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.

Tony exhaled sharply through his nose. “Alright.” He said, clapping his hands once. “Everyone take about three steps back.”

“What?” Clint asked.

“Because he just woke up, he can barely breathe, and he does not need three Avengers staring at him like he’s an alien exhibit.” Tony said flatly.

There was a brief pause.

Then Steve stood and stepped back.

Natasha followed.

Clint hesitated, then backed off as well.

Peter sagged slightly in relief.

Tony stayed where he was.

“Okay.” Tony said quietly. “Mask stays off for now. But we’re gonna keep this calm, yeah?”

Peter nodded, jaw tight. “Yeah.”

Tony glanced up at the others. “No questions. Not yet.”

Steve looked like he wanted to argue. Wanted to say something. Tony could see it written all over his face, the concern, the sense of responsibility, the weight of command.

Tony shook his head once.

Not now.

Steve swallowed whatever he’d been about to say and nodded.

Peter leaned back slightly, bracing himself with one hand behind him, careful this time. His breathing was steadier now, though every movement still made his face tighten with pain.

“I’m sorry they had to find out like this.” He said quietly, staring at the ground. “I didn’t mean to—”

Tony cut in gently. “Hey. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Peter looked up at him, eyes glassy.

The forest remained silent around them.

The medbay was too quiet.

Peter noticed it the moment he drifted back into awareness, not the sharp, terrifying quiet of the forest after the snake went still, but a clean, controlled silence. The kind that hummed softly with machines and filtered air, where nothing unexpected was supposed to happen.

It smelled like antiseptic and metal and something faintly citrusy he couldn’t identify. The ceiling above him was white, broken up by recessed lights that were just bright enough to be annoying. He blinked slowly, eyes stinging, and immediately regretted it.

Pain bloomed through his chest.

Not sharp, not all at once, more like a deep, spreading ache that made breathing feel like work. He sucked in a breath out of instinct and hissed, shoulders tensing before he could stop himself.

“Hey.” A familiar voice said quietly, right next to him. “Easy.”

Peter turned his head a fraction, and stopped.

Tony was sitting in a chair pulled up close to the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together like he’d been there for a while. His arc reactor glowed softly through a clean black shirt; the armor was gone, replaced with something almost normal.

Almost.

“Oh.” Peter croaked. His throat felt dry. “Hi.”

Tony let out a breath that sounded like he’d been holding it since the forest. “Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”

Peter tried to smile. It came out crooked. “Did I, uh, did I pass out again?”

“Kinda.” Tony said. “You’ve been out a few hours. You scared the hell out of us. Again.”

Peter swallowed. His chest hurt when he did that too. “Sorry.”

Tony’s expression tightened for half a second. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Apologize.” Tony said. “You almost got crushed by a mutant snake the size of a bus. That’s not an ‘oops, my bad’ situation.”

Peter stared at the ceiling. “…Still feel bad.”

Tony snorted quietly. “Of course you do.”

Peter shifted slightly, then immediately froze as pain flared along his ribs. His right arm felt heavy and strange, wrapped tight and immobile against his side, and when he tried to flex his fingers, his wrist sent a sharp warning up his arm.

He groaned under his breath.

“Okay.” Tony said quickly, standing just enough to lean over him. “No moving. Zero moving. You broke three ribs, your arm, and your wrist.”

Peter blinked. “Three?”

Tony grimaced. “Yeah. You’re an overachiever.”

Peter let his head fall back into the pillow. “Wow. That snake really hated me.”

“It really did.” Tony agreed. “Bruce put you back together as much as possible.”

At the mention of Bruce, Peter’s stomach twisted, not from pain, but from something colder and heavier.

“…They know.” Peter said quietly.

Tony didn’t pretend not to understand. He eased back into the chair. “Yeah.”

Peter stared at his hands, his left one, anyway. Pale. Bare. No gloves. No suit. Just him.

“They saw me.” He said. “Like me-me.”

“They did.”

There was a long pause.

“That’s weird.” Peter whispered. “It feels… weird.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah. It usually does.”

Peter turned his head slightly, eyes darting toward the glass wall of the medbay. It was transparent but tinted, offering a clear view of the hallway outside.

He could see them.

Steve stood with his arms crossed, posture straight but tense, staring at the floor like it might give him answers if he looked hard enough. Natasha leaned against the wall nearby, arms folded, expression unreadable, eyes flicking occasionally toward the room. Clint sat in a chair, one ankle resting on his knee, unusually still. Bruce hovered a little apart from the others, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, gaze worried.

They all looked unsettled.

“They’re waiting.” Peter said.

Tony followed his gaze. “Yeah.”

“They probably hate me.” Peter added quickly. “Or think I lied. Or, I don’t know, think I’m stupid for doing this.”

Tony looked back at him sharply. “Hey.”

Peter flinched slightly at the tone, then looked at him.

“They don’t hate you.” Tony said firmly. “They’re processing.”

Peter huffed a weak laugh. “That sounds worse.”

Tony smirked despite himself. “Fair.”

Peter swallowed again. His chest ached with every breath, and beneath that was something tighter, heavier, fear that had nothing to do with broken bones.

“I didn’t want them to know.” He said. “I didn’t even want them to know my name.”

Tony softened. “I know.”

Peter squeezed his eyes shut for a second. “I messed everything up.”

“No.” Tony said immediately. “You didn’t.”

“I took my mask off.” Peter said, voice cracking just a little. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Tony leaned forward. “You were suffocating and in shock. That’s not a failure, kid. That’s being human.”

Peter didn’t answer.

Outside the medbay, Steve finally lifted his head.

“Tony.” He called, voice careful but carrying. “Is he awake?”

Tony didn’t respond right away. He looked at Peter.

Peter hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

Tony stood and turned toward the glass. “He’s awake.”

Steve exhaled, relief flashing across his face before it was replaced with something more complicated. He stepped closer to the door, stopping just short of entering.

“We should talk to him.” Steve said.

Tony held up a hand. “We will.”

Natasha tilted her head. “Tony.”

Tony didn’t look at her. “Let me handle this.”

Bruce shifted his weight. “He’s stable.” He said quietly. “But he’s young. And he’s been through a lot.”

Peter winced. Young. It sounded different when they said it out loud.

Clint cleared his throat. “Kid almost died. I think he deserves to say his piece.”

Tony turned back to Peter. “You up for company?”

Peter looked at the four of them through the glass. Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. The people he’d watched on the news. The people he’d fought beside without them knowing who he really was.

“Do I have a choice?” he asked weakly.

Tony gave him a small, crooked smile. “With Captain Language here, not really.”

He turned and pressed a button. The door slid open completely with a quiet hiss.

Steve entered first, slow and deliberate, like he was approaching a skittish animal. Natasha followed, then Clint. Bruce lingered at the doorway for a moment before stepping in too, his movements careful, almost hesitant.

The room felt smaller with them all inside.

Steve stopped at the foot of the bed, hands clasped behind his back. He looked down at Peter, not at Spider-Man, not at a masked figure swinging through trees, but at a teenager lying in a hospital bed with one arm in a cast and bruises blooming along his collarbone.

“You gave us a scare.” Steve said gently.

Peter nodded. “Sorry.”

Tony shot him a look. Peter stopped talking.

Natasha’s eyes swept over Peter, clinical but not unkind. “How are you feeling?”

Peter considered that. “Like I lost a fight with a truck.” He said honestly. “But… alive.”

“That’s something.” Clint said.

Bruce stepped closer to the bed, hands still in his pockets. “Your healing’s good.” He said. “Better than average. But you’ll need rest. No heroics for a while.”

Peter nodded again. “Yes, sir.”

Bruce winced slightly at that. “Just Bruce is fine.”

Another pause settled over the room.

Steve took a breath. “We didn’t know.” He said. “About you. Any of it.”

Peter stared at the blanket. “That was kind of the point.”

“I get that.” Steve said. “But it’s a lot to take in.”

Tony shifted slightly, positioning himself closer to Peter again. A subtle move. Protective.

Natasha noticed.

Clint noticed.

Steve definitely noticed.

“You’re young.” Steve continued carefully. “And you’ve been putting yourself in situations that—” He stopped, jaw tightening, clearly choosing his next words with care. “That are dangerous even for us.”

Peter glanced up. “Yeah. I know.”

“Then why do it?” Bruce asked quietly.

The question hung in the air.

Peter hesitated. His chest hurt. His arm throbbed. His head still felt fuzzy. And now all of them were looking at him, waiting for an answer he’d never had to say out loud before.

“Because someone has to.” He said finally. “And I can.”

Steve frowned slightly. “That’s not enough.”

“It is to me.” Peter replied, voice small but steady.

Clint tilted his head. “You ever think about what happens if you don’t get back up next time?”

Peter swallowed. “…Yeah.”

“Then why keep doing it?”

Peter’s grip tightened on the blanket. “Because if I don’t, and someone else gets hurt, that’s on me.”

The room went very still.

Tony closed his eyes briefly.

Steve stared at Peter, something old and familiar flickering in his expression, recognition.

Natasha’s gaze sharpened.

Bruce exhaled slowly.

Clint muttered under his breath, “Oh, kid…”

Steve straightened. “We don’t even know your name.”

Peter hesitated.

Tony leaned in slightly. “You don’t have to answer that right now.”

Peter looked at him. Tony met his gaze steadily, giving him the out.

Peter looked back at the others.

“Peter,” he said. “Peter Parker.”

The name landed heavily.

Steve repeated it softly. “Peter.”

Natasha filed it away instantly.

Clint let out a low whistle. “Well. That explains the voice.” Yea, nobody knew what that meant.

Tony watched them all carefully.

Steve took another step forward. “Peter.” He said. “We need to talk about what happens next.”

Tony held up a hand again. “Not tonight.”

Steve looked at him, surprised. “Tony—”

“He’s injured.” Tony said firmly. “Physically and otherwise. He doesn’t need a lecture. He needs rest.”

There was a long moment where Steve looked like he might argue.

Then he exhaled and nodded. “Alright.”

Natasha crossed her arms. “This conversation isn’t over, Tony.”

Tony met her gaze. “Never is.”

Clint gave Peter a small, awkward nod. “Get some sleep, kid.”

Bruce offered a faint smile. “I’ll check on you later.”

One by one, they backed toward the door.

Steve lingered last.

He looked at Peter again. Really looked at him.

“You were brave out there.” Steve said quietly. “Reckless. But brave.”

Peter didn’t know what to say to that.

Steve turned and left.

The door slid shut behind them.

The room felt empty again.

Peter let out a shaky breath. “That went better than I thought.”

Tony snorted softly. “Low bar.”

Peter turned his head toward him. “They’re mad.”

“They’re worried.” Tony corrected.

Peter stared at the ceiling. “Same thing.”

Tony leaned back in the chair. “Welcome to the club.”

Peter was quiet for a long moment.

“They know who I am now.” He said.

Tony nodded. “Yeah.”

“That changes things.”

“It does.”

Peter swallowed. “Are you mad at me?”

Tony looked at him sharply. “For what?”

“For… all of it.”

Tony didn’t answer right away. He reached out and adjusted the blanket carefully, making sure it didn’t press against Peter’s ribs.

“No.” Tony said finally. “I’m scared. There’s a difference.”

Peter’s throat tightened.

The machines hummed softly.

That was enough comfort. Kind of.