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Chapter Text

Peter opens his eyes, and then promptly panics because he can’t see anything. He blinks rapidly, hoping whatever has happened to eyesight un happens but it never does. He can’t see, and slapping his hands against his face does nothing. Especially considering his movements are slowed by the jello-like liquid he is currently floating in.

Wait.

Perhaps the jello is the reason why Peter can’t see. 

Another perhaps… Maybe the jello is the reason Peter’s lungs are on fire and his spidey sense is screaming RED ALERT! RED ALERT! over and over.

So, Peter can’t see, he can barely move his body, and he can’t breathe. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool, he can totally figure out a way out of this before he ultimately drowns in whatever thick ass liquid he’s submerged in. 

Spoiler alert: Peter does not, in fact, figure out a way out.

Peter wakes up again, with the inherent knowledge that he drowned , and sets about figuring out this predicament with a little less panicking over the symptoms of being in said predicament. 

He starts swimming, hopefully up, kicking his legs out as hard as the jello allows him, arms essentially pulling him through the liquid. He has DON’T BREATHE as a mantra in his head, eyes closed since there’s no reason to have them open. He actually feels like the jello is getting thinner around him when he feels his lungs spasm.

Peter is very aware of his brain shutting down from the lack of oxygen, mostly because his enhanced healing is trying like a bitch to keep him from drowning (again). He tries to swim faster, harder, something telling him he’s so, so close to the surface. 

Spoiler alert: Peter will never eat jello for the rest of his life, ever. 

Update: Peter will never eat jello for the rest of any of his lives.

He gets to swimming as soon as he wakes up, something in his brain singing, third time’s a charm! He tries to convince himself that the luck of thirds outweighs Parker Luck, but he should’ve realised that nothing could beat out the cosmic joke that is being a Parker trying to get out of a shitty situation. 

It’s even worse when Peter’s hand breaks the surface of the jello. He wriggles his fingers, enjoys the sensation of being free , but then he feels himself slipping. Not back into the jello, but feels his consciousness slipping away from his body. His hand goes limp, sliding back into the thickness, and Peter wonders if he’s been condemned. 

Dante gets nine circles, and Peter gets jello. 

Something inside him, something that sounds like MJ, reminds him that Dante made it through Inferno , and Purgatorio . That he made it all the way to Paradiso . 

Peter’s fourth time waking up is thinking of Paradiso . 

His fifth time waking up, he’s angry.

Fuck this jello, fuck Dante, and fuck whatever universal joke was being done to him that caused him to die, and come back to life, all to just die again. His anger pushes him, and he’s no longer swimming through the jello, but throwing his body through it. He breaks the surface with a gasp, lungs screaming at him to take in air, all the air.

Peter rubs the jello from his face, scrubbing it from his eyes so he can see, and he’s even more pissed off to note he’s in some dark ass, whack ass cave that his weak ass vision is having a hard time seeing in. He stays in the jello a moment longer, breaths coming out in ragged puffs as he surveys the cave around him. 

He grunts, moving again, far easier to do at the surface than below. He can make out an edge to whatever pool he’s in, and guns for it, very eager to be out of this fuck ass jello lake. 

Peter lays on the rocky shore for a while, staring up (as well as he can) at the cave ceiling, and just enjoys having air in his lungs. He can feel the rocks beneath him digging into his spine, his shoulder blades, but he doesn’t move. Not yet. 

He’s not too masculine to admit he’s fucking terrified of what waits for him outside this cave. He can’t hear anything, but he also thinks some jello might have gotten lodged into his ear canals, because everything is a little muffled. It’s like wearing his StarkPods, his own breathing sounding far away.

Peter groans, rolling over, wincing as he feels the rocks cut into his skin, wincing again as he feels the tiny cuts knit together just as fast from his healing factor. He shakes his head rapidly, both to clear his thoughts and attempt to focus, and to hopefully empty his ears. Standing, his feet take note of the stones below him, and he realizes with a start that he’s barefoot.

Looking down, he sees he’s not only shoeless, but pantsless, and shirtless. Hell, he’s even underwearless . 

What the hell?

Who stripped him bare ass and threw him in a jello lake in some Descent style cave? Who hated Peter Parker that much? Because he’s very firmly Peter Parker right now, with no Spider-Man suit in sight. Shit, he doesn’t have his webshooters on. Not even his StarkTag that he’s worn on a necklace since Tony held him down and tied it around his neck for his 16th birthday. 

He’s entirely naked, and the jello is crusting on his body in very weird ways. A whole body shiver takes over him as he tries not to think too hard on the feeling of that . 

So, no tracking device for Tony to find him. No Spider-Man suit or webshooters to help him in case whoever threw him in here is waiting for him somewhere in the cave. No shoes to protect his non-calloused feet.

He curses Aunt May for taking him to get a pedicure with her last week. His feet would be in a much better position if he still had a hard shell of callouses on the soles. Unfortunately for him, Aunt May had taken one look at them the one time he was barefoot in the apartment and practically dragged him to the nail salon. 

Now he’s here, essentially tip-toeing across the many rocks that stand between him and the nice smooth looking rock ledge ahead of him. 

He’s there quickly enough, and he pauses to let his healing take care of his feet. The many little cuts stinging as they get sealed up. He looks around, seeing only one opening, but noticing there is no light coming from it. Perhaps whoever put him in here can see in the dark? Or perhaps they’ve already gone.

That would truly be Parker Luck. Toss him in the jello pit from hell, and then hightail it out of there before he clawed his way out. He sighs, and then starts coughing uncontrollably, before finally, a piece of jello goes flying past his lips, landing on the ground by his toes. His lips curl in disgust, and he decides to, yeah, let’s just fucking dip from this hell hole . 

He takes off, letting his barely there night vision and spidey sense guide him through the cave tunnel. Sounds start to infiltrate his clogged ears, and he runs toward it. Whether it’s a big bad, or weird cannibalistic not-humans that evolved to live without sunlight (why did MJ love The Descent so much?), Peter didn’t care. He barely noticed a change in the tunnel, but some part of his spider brain still caught it. The rocks went away, and Peter felt cool metal under his feet. Eventually he was running through a hallway, rather than a tunnel. 

Still no light. 

But the sounds were closer. 

Peter thought he heard talking, footsteps, maybe a heartbeat, but it all sounded so far away. His spidey sense was going a little haywire, not like it was in the jello pool. That was a Code Red, which only happened when Peter was near death or dying. He only had RED ALERT blaring in his head two other times, when Vulture leveled that building on him, and when Electro set that fuel tank on fire. 

Currently, Peter categorizes his sense at being at a Code Blue. Basically, there’s definitely a threat but Peter could probably take it on. You know, if he could hear and wasn’t currently running endlessly through a seemingly never ending tunnel. 

He begins to slow down, attempts to regain control of himself, though he doesn’t really know when he lost it. His mind feels hazy, that anger from the jello still lingering below his skin. It makes him itchy, like the rage is a festering wound he needs to dig out. 

Distantly his mind tells him the sounds are super, duper close to him, almost like they’re right in front of-

He slams into a body, so solid that Peter wonders if it’s actually a wall instead. The oof the body lets out firmly tells Peter it is, in fact, not a wall. Peter blinks a few times, hating how he can’t see shit in this dark ass tunnel. The body groans, hauls himself back up, and…

Holy shit . 

This guy has to be nine feet tall, easy. He looms over Peter, practically double his height, and good fucking god, Peter wonders why his spidey sense isn’t going full Code Red on him. Because sure, Peter has enhanced strength, but he’s currently naked, webshooterless, and slightly disoriented from dying too many times.

Oh fuck!
Peter forgot he was naked. 

He shrieks, startling the giant in front of him, and his hands go flying to cover himself. The man seems to notice at the same time Peter did, taking multiple steps back and turning his head away from Peter.

Though turning away does nothing, because it’s not like Peter has some spare clothes hidden up his ass he can change into. 

“Got a name, kid?” The man rumbles, voice sounding slightly robotic.

Voice modulator, Peter thinks, eyeing the behemoth in front of him. Why disguise his voice? Peter is 100% certain he does not know this guy, so there’s no reason to hide his voice from Peter. Unless the guy thinks Peter knows him? Maybe he’s the guy who put Peter here, and he thinks Peter remembers him. 

Well, Peter doesn’t!

Peter doesn’t remember anything!

Huh…

Peter doesn’t remember anything ?

He blinks a few times, attempting to think about what happened immediately before the jello pit. He had been on a field trip, which was never a good idea for Peter, but Ned was excited. He had been on a field trip, and then… What? And then what?!

Field trip, jello pit.

That was Peter’s day, apparently. 

“Kid?” The man repeats, this time head tilted in a way that showed the guy’s confusion. 

“Peter,” He answers, quiet, in a whisper. 

He’s scared, Peter realizes. 

He’s truly fucking scared. Scared in a way he hasn’t been since Homecoming. He was scared then because he didn't have his suit, and there was no one coming to help him. And isn’t he in that same situation now? Sure, he’s not buried under a collapsed building but is being trapped in some weird cave system that different?

“I’m Red Hood. I can get you outta here, get you somewhere safe.”

What kind of name is Red Hood?

Peter’s never heard of the guy, and he does a good job of keeping up with all the vigilantes out on the scene. He liked to network. 

But Red Hood? Unknown. 

New in town? Or… Not from town . His town, at least. He’s probably not in New York, huh?

“Where are we?” He asks, voice still quiet in the darkness. 

Red Hood is silent for a minute, then another, before he finally answers, “Near Gotham. It’s in New Jersey. Not from around here, right?”

Goddamn New Jersey. Peter was going back to the jello pit.

Red Hood laughed at his sigh, and Peter felt the need to answer, “I’m from New York. Queens, actually.”

There was some shuffling, and Red Hood was tossing his jacket at Peter’s face. It quite literally knocked him to his ass. He huffed, struggling to stand under the thing, as Red Hood just watched. 

“The fuck? I say I’m from Queens and you assault me?” Peter guffaws.

He can’t see it, but Peter is pretty sure Red Hood rolls his eyes at him. “I didn’t assault you. I thought you’d catch the jacket, kid, not just collapse like a sack of potatoes.”

Sack of potatoes?! 

Peter hates people from New Jersey. 

“Put it on,” Red Hood continues, “You’re shivering.”

Peter notices the guy is kind enough not to mention why he’s shivering. He takes the kindness at face value, and shrugs himself into the jacket. It smells like gunpowder and gasoline. Peter feels a bit weird that he finds the scent comforting. Also, the jacket completely swallows him. He feels like he’s eight playing dress up in Uncle Ben’s clothes. 

“Follow me, kid, let’s get out of this shithole.”

And Peter doesn’t need to be told twice. 

It’s silent for a majority of their walk, until Peter can’t handle it anymore, “Do you know who put me in the jello?”

Red Hood’s footsteps stuttered for a moment, but he quickly righted himself. 

“Jello?”

Peter jerked a thumb behind him, indicating he meant the terror pit from Hell that he was happily leaving behind. “I kept waking up in a lake of jello. Over and over again. I don’t know what it really is, but it was thick, and impossible to swim through. So… Jello.”

Red Hood was eerily quiet. “Was it green?”

Green? Peter has no fucking clue what color his death jello was. He shrugs, “Don’t know, couldn’t really see anything. Still can’t, I guess. By the way, is your head actually a giant pill shape, or are you wearing a helmet?”

A deep sigh escapes from Red Hood as he answers, “Helmet. What do you mean by ‘waking up’?”

Another shrug from Peter. He’s trying to decide how honest he should be. The guy isn’t setting off his spidey sense anymore. Not even a Code Blue. All’s quiet on the spidey front. It’s unsettling, if he’s being honest. So his spidey sense trusts this random pill-headed bitch, and Peter is just supposed to be okay with that?

Well.

He was okay with it when it happened with Wade.

And Daredevil. 

But those guys were different. They didn’t meet Peter when he was butt ass naked running from a jello pit of doom. And they weren’t ten feet tall. Not that Peter’s a size-ist! Size doesn’t matter to him, no sir, he’s okay with people being short or tall. It’s just… This guy’s tall in a way that doesn’t sit right with Peter. Like he shouldn’t be this tall. 

Ugh.

Fuck it.

“I’m pretty sure I died. Like, over and over? Drowned, I guess.”

Red Hood curses, though he says it quietly, as if Peter shouldn’t hear it. They stop walking, Red Hood turning to look behind them for a long minute. He brings his hand up to his helmet, and suddenly there’s another voice joining in.

“What the hell, Hood? You don’t get to say you’re at an LOA base and then go completely offline! That’s not how this works! I almost sent B after you!”

Whoever is on the line sounds royally pissed off at Peter’s knight in shining pill-shaped armor. Though, Peter reasons, if he did what Red Hood did, Tony would have shown up fuming and grounded Peter for a month. Aunt May would have taken it a step farther by grounding him for three months. They were dramatic like that.

“I had it covered, O. Small hiccup, though. Found a kid, around ten-years-old. Naked. Claims he came from a Lazarus pit.”

And okay, Peter totally did not say he came from whatever the fuck a Lazarus pit was. Also, what did he say before? LOA? What the fuck was that? And-

Wait.

Ten-years-old?

Did he just say Peter was ten-years-old?

Red Hood and O kept talking, but Peter’s still muffled ears completely shut down. Ten?! Is that why Red Hood seems ginormous to Peter? No way. Nuh huh. Absolutely not. There is no fucking way Peter… What? Shrunk ?! What kind of fucking jello was that?!

Peter feels himself breathing heavy, working himself up to hyperventilating. His already very limited eyesight starts to tunnel, vision going as he basically watches himself blackout from panic. It’s terrifying, but Peter’s passed out plenty before. At least this time he wasn’t in the jello, so he knew he wasn’t going to die from this. 

Maybe.

Possibly.

Red Hood still might be a big bad, despite what his spidey sense tells him (or doesn’t tell him). He resents the fact that he’s about to collapse like a “sack of potatoes” as Red Hood called him, but before his bare ass can hit the floor below him, hands grab onto his shoulders, successfully stopping his fall. Those same hands maneuver him around, one hand sliding to his back, the other going to the back of his legs. He’s scooped up into strong arms in no time, cradled to a chest.

Red Hood’s chest.

Armored chest, but the armor isn’t cold. It’s weirdly warm, and Peter lets himself lean against it. His eyes are closed, and he still feels like he’s floating in his own body, not quite back from the panic attack yet.

There’s a rumble at Peter’s ear, and a few seconds later he realizes that it’s because Red Hood’s talking. Not to Peter, but to the mysterious O. 

“-passed out. I got him now, we’re heading out. Tell B and Robin to come clear the place. Do not tell them about the kid.”

The last was a command, and it sounded different coming from Red Hood. Peter realized he’d been talking pretty softly to Peter this entire time, like you would a wounded animal. 

Or a naked child you found in a cave. 

Peter whined, high in his throat, and Red Hood apparently took that as his sign to speed up, because suddenly it felt like they were near running out of the hallway slash tunnel slash portal to Hell. Peter didn’t mind that one bit, honestly.

O started talking, “You know how I love secrets. But when B finds out about him, because we both know that it’s going to happen, I had no part in this! I’ll act appropriately shocked and disturbed by the information.”

Red Hood grunted, which jostled Peter, “We both know Nightwing is going to see through that pretty fast.”

“I don’t care what he sees through, I don’t want the grief from B for hiding this. You know how piercing his disappointing stare can be.”

Peter opens his eyes, finally, something in his spider brain telling him they were almost out, out, out . They’re in a much larger room, still no lights, and what the fuck is up with this place and no lights? Peter blames it on being in New Jersey. It’s expansive, the room, and each step Red Hood takes echoes out. Peter shivers, feeling like they’ve been dropped in some backrooms type shit. Red Hood tightens his hold on him when Peter shivers, and Peter burrows further into the man’s body heat that’s somehow radiating out through his armor. 

Peter thinks he sees lumps on the ground, and he definitely smells blood. Lots of blood. Suddenly he remembers the jacket he’s wearing smells like gunpowder. Did Red Hood kill these people? Were these the people that put Peter here? Why can’t he remember anything?

“Disconnecting, O. Heading for a safehouse.”

There’s a hum for a response, before, “B and Robin are about five minutes out. Should just miss each other. You know B is not going to be happy when he sees your little trail, by the way.”

Peter thinks Red Hood might be smiling, and when he speaks, Peter knows he’s smiling, “B can eat it. I did what needed to be done.”

And then there was silence. Radio silence. 

Red Hood is probably working under the assumption that Peter’s still unconscious in his arms, and Peter is happy to let the big guy think that. Especially since he just got confirmation that the unmoving lumps are definitely dead bodies caused by the big guy that’s currently cradling Peter to his chest. 

“I know you’re awake, kid.”

Alright so Red Hood is smarter than his pill-shaped head looks. 

That or Peter sucks at faking being asleep. 

Uncle Ben always caught him out after long car rides, too, so he supposes the latter might be true. Still. Little rude to not let Peter have this.

“Why’d you kill them?”

The hands holding him tightened, not painfully so, but enough that Peter’s spidey sense jumped, as if being kickstarted. Not a Code Blue.

Code Yellow.

That was Peter’s sign to tread carefully. He’s not in danger, but he could be. Like he’s at a forked path, one way is all sunshine and rainbows, the obvious path, and the other is a straight fall into a pit of piranhas. Sometimes Peter accidentally chooses the piranha pit over the rainbow path. Sometimes he chooses it on purpose. 

This time, he’s hoping to avoid it entirely.

“Some people are just better off that way,” Red Hood answered, and it sounded so final, like there was no room for argument. 

Peter had an argument, but he was wise enough to dip out when he realized he was at a disadvantage. Okay, he didn’t always dip out at that realization, but this time , he was dipping out. There was something far different about being disadvantaged as Spider-Man versus being disadvantaged as Peter Parker.

He thinks it has a lot to do with being naked.

Red Hood turned, busting the doors open with his back, and finally, finally they were outside. And it was-

The fuck?

It’s daytime.

There’s no sun out, and it’s all cloudy, but it’s definitely daytime. Peter squints his eyes at the sudden brightness, even with the grey cloud cover hovering menacingly above him. He feels weird. There’s something about drowning over and over in a jello lake hidden underground in some cave system that Peter feels should only happen at night. So to see daylight… Mm, yeah, he’s unsettled. 

Red Hood takes them to a motorcycle, a nice red and black that Peter very much appreciates. Peter turns to look up at the man, seeing the helmet in all its glory, finally. In the daylight, the helmet looks pretty fucking sick, Peter can’t lie. It looks like it offers way more protection than Peter’s suit, and would likely be way more useful to stop concussions.

Not that Peter gets a lot of concussions! No sir, he’s so safe, all the time. And even if he did get a concussion, he’d sleep it off quicker than any doctor could find a way to help him.

The rest of Red Hood was covered in black armor. Very form fitting, very durable looking. Peter was pretty impressed, honestly. A red bat was plastered pretty prominently on Red Hood’s chest, right where Peter’s head was laying. He lifted up a little, eyes tracking over the bat, and a careful finger going to trace around it. 

“What does the name Red Hood have to do with bats?” Peter asks.

Red Hood stops at the bike, sitting Peter gently down on the seat, and it’s as he’s zipping the jacket up that he answers, “Nothing.”

Wow, great response.

Peter rolls his eyes, letting Red Hood basically baby him. 

After the jacket is zipped up, Red Hood goes to digging in a compartment off the side of his bike, pulling out… Pants?

“Why the fuck do you have little kid pants on you?”

Red Hood laughs, tossing the pants at Peter while he turns his back on him, giving him the idea of privacy as Peter jumps off the bike to put the pants on. They’re big on him, which make him seethe, because they looked so fucking small in Red Hood’s hands. 

“I keep lotsa clothes on hand. There’s a lotta street kids that won’t take from shelters, but they’ll take from me,” He shrugs, “So I keep a supply on hand for ‘em”.

Peter stops seething at the too big pants, and looks down at his bare feet. It’s nice, what Red Hood does. It makes sense then, why his spidey sense stopped going off around the man. Peter thinks maybe he should get a motorcycle like Red Hood, so he can help take care of the kids out in New York. 

He thinks of Tony and Aunt May’s reactions to that , and figures he might be better off getting a backpack. 

Red Hood turned around, and without even asking, lifted Peter up by his armpits and set him back on the bike. Peter’s mouth fell open, and he gave a very indignant squawk at the treatment. “What the hell man! You don’t just pick somebody up without asking!” 

“Despite your very colorful vocabulary, you’re just a kid. And your head barely sees over the bike seat. Hate to see you crush yourself underneath it by trying to climb on.”

Peter huffs, and juts his elbows out behind him when Red Hood climbs on. There’s an oof sound, similar to when Peter ran into him in the hallway slash tunnel, and Peter feels better. Red Hood shakes his head, starts the bike, and Peter hates how he throws his hands up to hold onto Red Hood’s arms as they take off. 

Peter noticed the architecture immediately. It was so shocking to see he almost fell off the bike. Red Hood steadied him, keeping an arm wrapped around his chest while the other steered. Peter felt very suddenly like a child in a car seat, and he wanted to scratch Red Hood’s arm away. He didn’t, but he sure wanted to. 

The buildings were so different from anything Peter had seen. Well, okay, they just didn’t fit New Jersey, is what Peter means. The gothic structures, dark colors, and holy shit , did that building have actual gargoyles on it? Wait… Most of these buildings have gargoyles. Yeah, this is for sure not the New Jersey Peter knows. It doesn’t even feel American. 

What city did Red Hood say they were near?

Gotham . 

Peter’s never heard of it, but he never really bothered to memorize all of New Jersey’s cities. Still. He thinks he might have heard about this one. Or at least MJ would have mentioned it. The darkness that seems to exude from every building is right up her alley. And there were plenty of alleys in this city. 

His spidey sense was going absolutely crazy the moment they rode over the bridge into the main part of the city. Spiking at random as they passed the various different buildings. The wind whistling by Peter’s ears, and the jello still stuck inside, stopped him from hearing a lot, but he was still able to make out random yelling, gunshots, and cries.

Goosebumps ran over his arms, and Peter scooted minutely back into Red Hood. The guy seemed to take it as Peter being cold, and wrapped him up a little tighter in his arm. 

Finally, Red Hood slowed, pulling into a garage that once they were inside, the door slammed shut with such force Peter thought the entire thing was collapsing on them. He flinched, unable to stop himself, and Red Hood apologized.

“Can’t be too careful in Gotham,” He said, as if that answered everything.

And Peter guesses it did. 

Most garage doors close slowly, and he’s seen plenty of movies (thanks, MJ) where killers and the like crawl under slow closing garage doors. If this city is as crime filled as his spidey sense is telling him, it makes sense the garage door would close the way it did. Still. A little warning would’ve been nice.

“C’mon, let’s head up. I have some spare clothes you can change into. And food. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Peter’s stomach growled in response, and Red Hood, though Peter couldn’t see, definitely smiled. He wasn’t sure how he knew, he just did. 

He followed the man up the stairs, noting how quiet the building was. Not spider hearing soundproof, like his room back at the tower, but soundproof enough that if Peter focused on the sounds inside the building, he wouldn’t hear the sounds outside. 

He still let his hearing stretch out, gunshots and screaming still happening somewhere, everywhere. He pulled it back to himself, deciding to ignore it, despite how much it killed him to do so. The reminder of his nakedness, and lack of suit were the only things helping him not feel too guilty about ignoring people that obviously needed help. 

Red Hood unlocks way too many door locks, and then there’s a beeping sound, before the door swings open. Peter wonders if there’s an identification mechanism in his suit somewhere. Likely in his helmet. Like an ID tag. Or the tags they put on dogs so they can go in and out of their doggy door but no wild animals can get it. Peter saw one one time, when he went with his mom to visit a neighbor. 

…

Peter hasn’t thought about his mom in a long time. 

He didn’t even remember that memory until just now. 

Oh, so he can remember that but not what the fuck he was doing a few hours ago? Can remember a memory with his dead mom but not what happened between the field trip and waking up in jello land?

Coolcoolcoolcoolcool, that’s awesome, Peter loves that. 

It’s a tiny apartment, Peter notes, as he discards the memory and lets himself return to the present. The kitchen and living room are basically one room, with two doors. Peter can guess one is a bathroom, and the other a bedroom. The living room has a singular couch in it, the world’s saddest looking tv, and so many books Peter thinks MJ would probably pass out on the spot from excitement. He smells the guns, but doesn’t see them. Red Hood takes the two guns off his belt, but Peter already knew about those. So the guns he smells are somewhere hidden, only where Red Hood can find them. 

Hm.

Curious. 

He supposes it is a safe house, and he’s been to one of Wade’s (much to the absolute displeasure of Tony). So from his experience, a safe house has a shit ton of guns. And knives. And swords. And frozen burritos. 

Peter’s stomach growls again.

Red Hood tilts his head from one side to the other, a clear popping sound filling the air, before he heads to the small kitchen. There was little counter space, but as Red Hood went digging in the freezer, Peter figured he wouldn't need the counter space. 

“Pizza good with you, kid?”

He hummed an approval, and looked around the room some more. There wasn’t a mirror anywhere he could see so he couldn’t check himself. A quick run of his fingers through his hair tell him all he needs to know about how disgusting he is. It’s all tangles and knots, likely welded together by the jello. Most of what was on his skin flaked off on the drive here, small blessings, he figures. 

Red Hood turned as Peter was trying to yank a clump of jello from his hair. 

He walked past him, opening one of the two doors, revealing the bathroom. He flicked the switch, light filling the small room, and then beckoned Peter over. He opened the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a towel, and washcloth. Peter took them, holding them to his chest as if they might be taken away. Then Red Hood left the room, and returned a few minutes later holding a set of clothes. Well, a set of pyjamas. Peter doesn't remember the last time he had a pyjama set. He’s always slept in sweats and a random shirt, here lately the shirt has been his New York shirt Tony got him after taking the suit away. Tony hates it, Peter loves that he hates it.

The set Red Hood holds is black, and looks impossibly soft. The stitching is gold, and there’s even a monogrammed D on the shirt pocket. It’s far fancier than anything Peter was expecting the guy to hand him.

“Uh… These obviously belong to somebody,” Peter said, feeling very uncomfortable at the thought of wearing some other kid’s pyjamas. 

No! You’re NOT a kid, Peter! You’re almost seventeen-years-old!

Okay, so not some other kid’s pyjamas, but he still isn’t comfortable with wearing some kid’s pyjamas. Talk about gross. What kind of teenager just puts on a ten-year-old’s outfit?!

“Yeah, he hangs around sometimes. Don’t worry about it. He won’t mind sharing.”

There’s a hint of amusement in his voice at the last bit, as if the kid, D , would very much mind sharing his clothes. Peter’s pretty easygoing, he thinks, but even he would feel a little weird if somebody just gave his clothes to somebody else without asking. 

“Take a shower, kid. By the time you get out the pizza should be ready for you.”

Red Hood walks out then, shutting the door behind him. Peter stands on the cold tile before shuffling over to stand on the bathmat. It feels good on his non-calloused feet, soft, and warm. Red Hood left the pyjamas on the sink counter, and Peter closed the toilet lid to set his towel and washcloth down. He turned the water on in the shower, letting it warm up as he turns to glance at the mirror above the sink. It’s now or never, he thinks, and basically throws himself to stand in front of it.

He’s ten.

Duh .

He hadn’t shrunk, no it couldn’t be that easy. The jello had… Unaged him. Deaged him? Reverse aged him. Whatever. He’s ten-years-old. But he still has his powers, so that’s at least cool. He couldn’t imagine if he had been reverse aged into the body that needed glasses and an inhaler in order to function. Peter grabs at his face, pulling, as if it were a mask he could yank off. It stays put, if turning a little red from his grip. 

His hair looks as gross as he thought, and he takes a minute to lift up a few locks, grimacing as they stick together. Red Hood’s earlier question on if the jello was green or not comes back to him as he looks at the green crust clinging to his hair.

So, yes. 

But he’s sure Red Hood can tell that by now.

He sighs, catching his eyes in the mirror, and then leans over the sink to get closer.

Why are his eyes green?

He crawls up on the sink, silently promising to clean it after his shower, and presses his face to the mirror. Green eyes stare back at him. Bright, vivid green eyes. They glow the longer he looks at them. He wants to break the mirror, he realizes. And Peter sees himself doing it, smashing the fuck out of this stupid ass mirror and absolutely destroying his hands in the process. He even feels his healing factor take over and seal back all his cuts until all that’s left is the broken glass pieces. 

He doesn’t do that though.

He can’t do that. 

Red Hood is being way too nice for Peter to go full sicko mode and destroy his things. 

So, he slowly crawls off the sink counter, and goes to stand on the bath mat. Taking a few deep breaths, he does allow himself to dig his nails into his palm, hard and sharp and painful enough that he feels a little better. Blood comes to the surface and Peter presses harder. He stops when he sees steam has completely filled the bathroom. 

With a sigh, he watches as the crescent marks on his palm close up, the only evidence left being the blood that’s going to wash away in the shower.

He uses his towel to wipe the sink off, making sure everything looks just as he found it. He is very firmly not looking in the mirror, refusing to meet the eyes that aren’t his. His wet hair drips down his neck, and Peter pushes up the sleeves of the borrowed pyjama top as he continues cleaning up his mess. 

There’s a soft knock on the door, and, “Food’s ready, kid.”

And then footsteps as Red Hood walks away. 

Peter takes a deep breath, hanging his damp towel on the hook by the shower, before he chanced a glance in the mirror.

Unnaturally green eyes? Check.

Still ten-years-old? Check.

Weird white streak in his hair? Check.

Wait.

He doesn’t crawl up on the sink this time, but he does just stare at himself. His eyes are less green than they were before the shower, and if he looks really hard, he can make out some of his brown around his pupil. But the white streak is new. The green jello must’ve masked it. Peter touches it, almost expecting it to wipe away, like it was chalk. But it wasn’t. Peter just had a white streak of hair now. It was growing from the right side of his head, near his temple. It was at least two fingers thick, and not ten-year-old fingers, but actual grown up fingers. 

He tried burying it underneath his other hair, but with it being wet it just kept falling back to the front, as if laughing at him. 

Peter wondered if Red Hood would give him scissors, or if he would just cut it off if Peter asked. 

“Good, kid?” Red Hood’s muffled voice outside the door asks.

Peter’s now clean ears can hear a lot better, and if he focuses on the man, he can hear the slightly elevated heartbeat. He’s worried. About Peter? Why?

Peter doesn’t answer him, instead moving to yank at the white streak of hair. He could probably pull it out with minimal injury. Would that be easier than cutting? No, but would it be more satisfying? Most definitely. 

He gets to yanking, harder and harder, and distantly hears, “Who fucking trusts a fresh-from-the-pit kid in the bathroom alone? You’re a fucking idiot.”

Is Red Hood okay? Peter thinks, wincing as a few strands of white hair get pulled from his scalp. 

Not enough . 

He’s twisted his fingers in the streak, effectively twirling it around, and begins pulling even harder, pouring in some spidey strength, when the door flies open. Red Hood stands in the now open doorway, red helmet off, but with a black cowl on his face. His hair is on display, frazzled and wild. 

With a white streak growing from the black. 

They both stare at each other, before Red Hood very carefully pulls Peter’s hand from his hair. There’s a deep sadness emanating from the man, and Peter doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand anything, honestly. 

Like why the fuck is he in New Jersey?!

“Peter,” It’s the first time Red Hood has said his name. Also the first time Peter has heard his real voice. It’s not as deep as Peter imagined it would be, but there’s a roughness to it that’s expected from a beefed up vigilante. 

“Let’s go eat dinner, okay?” Is said softly, so fucking softly, and Peter can’t stand that he’s being treated like a little kid. 

Like a victim.

Like how he’d talk to kids on the streets as Spider-Man.

His hands start shaking, including the one still being held by the wrist in Red Hood’s hand, and he’s so angry, so suddenly that it shocks him. Without a second thought, or even really a first thought, Peter yanks his hand away from Red Hood and shoves the man, hard. Not too hard, some deep rooted part of him not wanting to hurt him. Red Hood stumbles back, hitting the wall, and he eyes Peter with wide eyes. 

The mirror mocks him, Peter seeing his reflection in his periphery and he wants to smash it again. This time nothing stops him as he turns, quicker than he would normally turn when he was purely just Peter Parker, and beats his hands against the glass. It rains down on him, and blood starts falling from his still shaking hands. 

He stops, breath ragged, chest moving up and down violently, and it hits him all at once what he just did. 

Tears fill his vision faster than he can think, and he falls to the floor. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He repeats, feeling so horrible it makes him want to vomit. 

Hadn’t he just thought about how nice Red Hood was? Saving him from that awful jello lake, giving him clothes, a shower. Food, eventually. And what did Peter do to repay him? He pushed him and broke his bathroom mirror. What a fuck up.

He doesn’t hear Red Hood, if the man even speaks, “I don’t know why I did that. I just got so angry,” He finishes off pitifully. 

Even to his own ears, Peter sounds like a young child.

A scared kid. 

Because despite what Peter feels , that’s what Peter is. A scared kid. Trapped in New Jersey. Life sucks. 

“Hey, look at me, Peter,” Red Hood says, no longer leaning against the wall where Peter shoved him, but on his knees in front of him. He looks a little ridiculous, nearly taking up the whole ass bathroom with his hulking size, yet kneeled down in front of Peter, doing his best to appear small. Like a gorilla trying to look like a kitten. 

That thought makes Peter snort, and Red Hood breathes out a sigh of relief.

“No apologies,” He states, leaving no room for Peter to argue. 

He grabs some toilet paper off the roll, and dabs at Peter’s cheeks, soaking up the tears. Peter sniffs, twisting his fingers around each other, noting the blood finally stopped pouring from his hands. Red Hood takes notice, says, “Fuck,” and gets up with surprising speed.

He digs around in the cabinet under the sink, and pulls out a first aid kit. Returning back to his kneeling position, he takes out bandaids and tweezers, Peter assumes he plans to get any leftover glass from his hands. He should say he’ll be okay, his healing factor will take care of him, but he doesn’t. No words come out as Red Hood gently, so fucking gently, turns Peter’s hands over in order to get started cleaning them.

When the blood is all wiped away, that’s when Red Hood stops. The tweezers hover uselessly mid air, and the confusion is basically radiating off of the man. 

And then, without any questions, Red Hood packs away the first aid kit, and sets it carefully on the sink counter. He grunts as he gets up, hauling Peter up with him. 

“Hungry?” Red Hood asks, causing Peter to look at him as if he grew a second head. Red Hood smiles at him, and walks out of the bathroom without looking back, just expecting Peter to follow. Peter does, mostly because he can smell the pizza. 

“What about the glass?” Peter asks, sitting at the counter where Red Hood gestures for him to. 

He plates up two servings of pizza, definitely not enough for Peter’s metabolism, but he’s not going to say that. He already shattered the guy's mirror, he can’t eat all of his food, too. Peter, despite the last few hours of evidence, does have some manners. 

Red Hood stands across from Peter, eating at the counter, “I’ll clean it up later, don’t worry about it. Would you believe me if I said it wasn’t the first time I’ve had to replace that mirror?”

Peter chews on the pizza, realizing now that he’s eating how fucking hungry he is, but still swallows before he answers, “You’re the size of the Chrysler building. Yeah, I believe you’ve broken a mirror before.”

Red Hood laughs, loud and a little obnoxious, but Peter smiles when he hears it. It makes his cowl crinkle, and shows off his almost too-white teeth. Peter wonders what he looks like without the whole disguise thing. And how old he is. He doesn’t seem that old, but Peter has never been that good of a judge of age. Doc Ock was disgusted with him when he guessed that the guy’s age was seventy. He didn’t know! Everybody looks old when they’re over forty!

They eat in silence after that, with Peter only breaking it to say thank you when Red Hood gave him a cup of water. He hadn’t realized he was so thirsty, drinking the entire cup before Red Hood had finished pouring one for himself. His eyebrow rose, and he refilled Peter’s cup before returning to his plate of food.

“Slow down,” Red Hood says, “You’ll make yourself sick.”

Peter listens, not really wanting to, but also knowing he’s right. 

Slowing down, Peter takes very deliberate bites, and makes sure his gulps of water turn into sips. Red Hood drops another slice on Peter’s plate, and he offers a smile in thanks. Red Hood nods at him, the corner of his lip ticking up in a phantom smile. 

“So, Peter. Got a last name?”

Peter chews and chews, swallowing, wiping his face when Red Hood gestures for him to. He thinks about telling him a fake name, or refusing to tell him one at all, on account of stranger danger . But then he thinks about Aunt May and Tony, who are probably freaking out over not being able to find him. With no tracker and no phone, Tony’s probably close to pulling his hair out in frustration. So…

“Parker. Peter Parker.”

Red Hood nods, “Any family, Peter Parker?”

Again, his first instinct is to lie. But what good would that do? The quicker he gets back, the quicker Tony can… Peter doesn’t know, call in Dr. Strange to fix him, he guesses. He can’t stay ten forever! He and Ned were going to see their first r-rated movie together this weekend! 

“My Aunt May. She’s a nurse in Queens.” 

Peter does not mention Tony, already knowing that’ll lead nowhere. What vigilante would believe a ten-year-old kid knows Tony Stark? Nobody even believed his very real story of Iron Man saving him during the Stark Expo when he was around this age. So, he mentions Aunt May and leaves it at that. 

“She got the same last name as you?”

Peter nods, plate cleared, holding his cup with both hands as he takes very measured sips from it. He ignores how ridiculous he must look, stupid kid hands holding the large cup so he doesn’t drop it. Peter glares at the cup as he drinks. 

“I’ll get in contact with her, let her know where you are. With any luck, you’ll be outta Gotham by lunchtime tomorrow.”

Red Hood sounds weirdly chipper about the whole ordeal, like… Too chipper. Something prickles at the base of Peter’s neck, and without really thinking about it he thinks: liar . 

Why would Red Hood lie to him? And what part is he lying about? Finding Aunt May or Peter getting out of Gotham? His heartbeat stayed the same, steady and even, so he wasn’t lying lying. He told a half-truth, Peter guessed. He switched his glare from his cup to Red Hood, who was busy clearing the counter of their plates. He must’ve felt Peter’s glare on his back, as he turned around and raised his brows at Pete.

“Good, Peter?”

Peter relaxes his face, setting his now empty cup down, and nodding. “Thank you for the food, Red Hood.” 

“Don’t thank me, kid. Here, you can sleep in the bedroom.”

Red Hood walks around the counter, going to lead Peter to the other door. Peter stays rooted to the spot, head tilted, and it’s only when Red Hood is opening the bedroom door that he turns to see Peter not following him. “What’s up?”

Peter cannot believe this man!

“I can’t take the bedroom.”

Red Hood mimics Peter, tilting his head, staring at him. “Why not?”

Peter throws his arms in the air, sputtering. 

“It’s your room! I should sleep on the couch!”

Red Hood seems to understand, a small smile working its way on his face, and it looks like a smile reserved for when kids do something cute. It makes Peter want to attack him, scratch at him like a cat. He almost hisses at Red Hood. Almost . 

“No sweat, kid. Take the bed. I’ll feel better out here anyways. I need to make some calls, remember? Find your aunt. Wouldn’t be right to take the bed when I’m not even going to sleep yet.”

Peter fumes, silently, glaring at the stupid man in front of him. He hates that it makes sense in Peter’s newly ten-year-old brain. And Peter is tired. So, so tired. Drowning over and over again really took it out of him.

He growls, surprising even himself, and jumps off the stool to head toward the bedroom door. Red Hood’s smile only grows, and Peter wants to shove him again. The man must see his hands twitch, and he holds his own hands up in a display of compliance. 

“Easy, easy. No need to go all angry kitten on me.”

Yeah, Peter’s going to go full sicko mode on this guy the second he gets his spidey suit back. He walks into the bedroom, stomping on Red Hood’s foot on the way. The boots did nothing to stop Peter’s heel from digging in, and Red Hood yelps in response. It actually makes Peter feel a bit better. 

Red Hood mumbles, “Bratty fucking kids,” under his breath, obviously not meant for Peter to hear, but he does. Peter glances down at the very fancy D on his chest, wondering really for the first time who the kid is. Obviously somebody close to Red Hood, if he has pyjamas at the guy’s safehouse. Well, Peter has clothes at Wade’s safehouse, but that’s mostly because Wade stole them with the reasoning, “You never know when you’re going to need a spontaneous sleepover with your bestie!”

Still.

Peter’s almost seventeen. 

The kid that owns these pyjamas has to be around ten. What kid is uber close to a vigilante? So close they have clothes at his safehouse? Does Red Hood have a son? Do vigilantes even procreate like that? Peter’s never thought too hard on the personal lives of the vigilantes in his life. Shit, does Daredevil have kids?! 

Ew.

That would mean Daredevil’s had sex. 

He mentally bleaches his brain, trying to rid that thought from it. 

Red Hood turns the lights on, heading over to the queen sized bed that’s been shoved into the corner of the room. It’s made up, and there’s not even any clothes anywhere on the floor. Peter wonders how often this safehouse is even used. Red Hood did say a safehouse, not the . Why does he need more than one?

Red Hood pulls the blankets back, and tosses the remote at Peter. He catches it without thinking, turning it over in his hands. The television sitting on the dresser is even sadder than the one in the living room, big back behind it with an honest to god VHS player built into it. Peter eyes it like it might growl at him. Red Hood gestures to the room around them, “All yours, kid. There’s some movies on the shelf over there if you wanna watch something to go to sleep.”

He walks out with little fanfare, leaving Peter standing in the middle of the room. Heading over to the shelf Red Hood mentioned, Peter looked through the tapes that were there. He saw few that he would deem “kid friendly” - and why the fuck was he looking for kid friendly?! He’s not actually a kid!

“Ooh, A Goofy Movie !”

Peter puts the tape into the player, turning the TV on as he throws himself on the bed. He leaves the light on, not wanting to plunge himself into a dark room in an unknown vigilante’s apartment. The opening previews start, and Peter turns the volume down pretty low, not needing it very high since he cleared out all the jello. His enhanced hearing is back to working order. 

He burrows under the blankets, trying to pretend he’s back in his room at his apartment with Aunt May. They don’t have a VHS player, but he can pretend he found it dumpster diving. Yeah, this is all normal. Totally, completely normal. He’s not in some vigilante’s safehouse, reverse aged to ten, after waking up naked in a jello lake. Nope, he’s at home, waiting for Aunt May to get off shift so they can have a way too late dinner of takeout. 

He hates that his eyes start tearing up.

Peter hears a phone ringing.

He’s halfway through the movie, half paying attention to it, half paying attention to the keyboard clicks he hears from the living room.

“Hm?” A tired voice answers. 

A man’s voice, so not O, as that was distinctly a woman’s voice. Could this be the B or Robin that they were talking about earlier?

“Wanna keep a secret from B with me and Oracle?”

The person on the other side of the phone is quiet for a moment, before an almost gleeful response comes back, “Of course.”

Oracle? Is that O? What a sick fucking name. 

“B tell ya bout the LOA base outside Gotham?”

A tired mumble was all that was given as a response, but Red Hood continued, “Went in to check it for myself. By all accounts it was abandoned, yeah? No activity for however long B was watching it.”

Again, a mumbled reply. 

“Except there were guys down there. Not a lot, but enough that they thought they could group up and fight me,” Red Hood takes a deep breath, “And no, I didn’t kill them all. I left a few for B and Robin to play with.”

He did? Peter hadn’t heard any heartbeats… Then again, he wasn’t really listening for them. He saw the slumped forms, and smelled the blood, and feared the worst. And Red Hood basically confirmed he killed them! He just never said how many…

What a bitch.

“Anyways, I left the computer shit behind. Figured B would hand it over to you or Oracle. I went into the deep dark,” A frustrated sigh came from the other side of the line.

“Get to the fucking point, Hood, Jesus.”

Red Hood laughed, obviously enjoying tormenting whoever this was. 

“I was about halfway into whatever bumfuck tunnel system they had set up when guess what ran into me?”

Silence.

“Guess, Red.”

A grunt, “No.”

“C’mon!”

“No, fuck you, I’m hanging up.”

A rustle. “Fine! God, you’re such a baby.”

There was grumbling for a minute before Red Hood finally continued, “A kid. A kid ran full body into me. Little younger than the brat. Way smaller than him. He was totally freaking.”

Unfair. Peter was not totally freaking . He was understandably a little out of sorts, but he was totally in control of himself. Yes sir he was. 

“What?” Red sounds way more interested at the mention of Peter.

“Mhm. Just based on the shit he’s told me, kid definitely came out of the pits. After taking a few dunks into it.”

There’s a mumbled curse, wind blowing through the phone’s speaker. Was this person… Flying? Jumping? Running? What is Red up to at whatever o’clock?

Well, Peter guesses Red Hood is talking to another vigilante. But then, why take the call? Peter never takes calls during patrols (much to the frustration of Tony). 

“So, the kid what? Died over and over again and the pit just kept bringing him back?”

A hummed affirmative is Red Hood’s response.

There’s silence for a minute, and Peter watches as Goofy and Max sit on the hood of the car, attempting to ignore each other as they float in the water. 

“That’s so fucking messed up, man,” Red says, and Peter agrees.

It is so fucking messed up.

“What do you need from me?” Red asked.

Red Hood stands, Peter can tell by the sound of his armor moving and the way his heartbeat picks up ever so slightly. “Look the kid up for me. I don’t know how much of his information will be on the computers from the base. Shit, they might not have even known the kid’s name before digging him up and throwing him in.”

What?

Digging who up? Peter?

Peter wasn’t dug up by anybody! 

Right?

He was on a field trip. He remembers that much! He was on the bus, with Ned. They weren’t even talking, just listening to music, sharing his StarkPods, ignoring Flash. He had looked out the window, saw…

What did he see?

And then he woke up in the jello. 

There was no digging to be done. Not to Peter!

“Give me the name, then. I’ll look him up now.”

“Now? Aren’t you out?”

Red laughs, “You know I carry my pocket computer.”

“Is that what you call your phone, nerd?”

A deep sigh fills the space, and Peter feels it deep in his soul. “Shut up and give me the kid’s name, Hood.”

Red Hood rattles off Peter’s name, and tells Red about his Aunt May, and how he’s from Queens. It scares Peter, a little (a lot), knowing these random vigilantes know his name and his family. Sure, they just think he’s a random little kid that likely got kidnapped by some big bad, but still. It makes him very uncomfortable to think they just have this information. 

Peter watches Goofy and Max make up, and then watches them head straight for a waterfall. He likes the end of the movie best. Powerline was always his favorite. 

“Nothing.”

Red Hood doesn’t answer immediately. “Huh?”

“There’s nothing, Hood. Peter Parker doesn’t exist. Not in Queens, not in the US, not anywhere. I even checked for a Peter Barker, in case you heard wrong, but he died at the age of sixty-eight. Also he died in 1956. So doubt that’s your kid. But yeah, this kid’s a ghost. There isn’t even a May Parker.”

Peter’s vision starts to double, then blurs, then goes completely black. He’s breathing, heavy and hard, and since his eyes have gone his ears have taken the extra power.

“Not possible, Red. I have the kid in my safehouse right now. He has to exist.”

“What do you want me to say? He isn’t in any system. You could try to get prints or a picture, maybe he was reported missing. But he also could’ve given you a fake name.”

Peter thought about it! But he didn’t. He didn’t. He doesn’t exist? What does that mean? His throat feels like it’s closing, like somebody’s hand is squeezing his esophagus like playdough. 

“No, he didn’t give me a fake name. Trust me, Double R, kid was telling me the truth. And he was telling the truth about his Aunt May. He said she’s a nurse in Queens.”

There’s a hum, “I’m sorry, man, I don’t know. I’ll keep looking. Check the Cave’s database when I get back, but just the preliminary search isn’t good.”

Peter opens his mouth, feeling like a fish that was grabbed out of the water, or like a spider mutant that was thrown into a jello lake. He can’t get any air in, despite how much he tries. He tries to swallow, almost like he could gulp the air down, but no such luck.

He moves to crawl out of the bed.

“What do you think it means?” Red Hood asks quietly.

Powerline is singing on the television, Peter can hear it.

“I think it means your kid was probably brought up like Robin. Except he got to be experimented on instead of trained.”

Silence.

Peter falls out of the bed, crumpling to the floor in a truly pathetic pile, but he doesn’t care, he just wants to breathe! His spidey sense is sending him farther into a panic spiral, telling him he’s in DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!

Peter knows! He knows!

The door opens and Red Hood barrels in, hands on his shoulders as he hauls Peter back onto the bed. He can’t hear anymore, can’t see, just knows it’s Red Hood by the feeling of his gloved hands on his shoulders. By the smell of gasoline. Gunpowder. The frozen pizza from earlier. Peter clings to those smells, to those feelings.

There’s hands in his hair, petting him, and he’s being held to Red Hood’s chest. He feels the weirdly warmed armor, and he can almost see the red bat on the guy’s chest. 

“You’re okay, Peter, you’re okay,” Red Hood’s saying when Peter’s hearing comes back to him. 

Peter doesn’t feel okay. Hasn’t felt okay since waking up and realizing he was drowning. He wants to be back on that bus with Ned, not here, in some apartment in New Jersey with a guy he doesn’t know. A guy that was just told Peter doesn’t even really exist. 

“I am real. I wasn’t some experiment. I really am Peter Parker. My Aunt May is really a nurse.”

He’s saying it into Red Hood’s chest, but the man hears him all the same. There’s a slight tensing below him, and then, “You heard that?”

He nods. Red Hood continues, “I believe you, Peter. You’re right, you are real. Completely real.”

Peter doesn’t know if what Red Hood is saying makes him feel better but he stops crying. When did he start crying? He blinks a few dozen times, and his eyesight slowly fades back in, showing off the bright red bat that’s in his face. He lifts a hand, tracing the outline, trying to match his breathing to Red Hood’s. 

Red Hood picks him up, and that snaps Peter out of his pity party, as he starts getting angry at the man for just scooping him up like he was nothing. 

“Put me down! This is so embarrassing!” Peter wailed, hitting his fists against the stupid red bat. 

Red Hood laughed, “There’s no one here to even see you, kid.”

He promptly dropped him on the couch, where Peter landed with an oof. He glared up at Red Hood, who smiled and walked back into the bedroom. He returned with an arm full of blankets, and he began basically tucking Peter in.

“Uh. What are you doing?” Peter asked, watching as the blankets were nestled in around him.

“I have more work to do. And since it seems you can hear pretty damn well,” Red Hood side eyed him, “You might as well sleep in here. Make it easier, yeah? Being near somebody?”

Peter wanted to guffaw. Did he think Peter was a baby? That he needed a nightlight and somebody to check for monsters? Well…

He did leave the main light on in the bedroom…

And he does, technically , have a Captain America shield nightlight in his bedroom at Aunt May’s, but that’s been there since he was a little kid! Uncle Ben got it for him, it holds sentimental value! So what if Peter’s replaced the bulb everytime it’s burnt out! Who cares!

He glares at Red Hood, who smiles serenely down at him. 

That does nothing but piss him off more.

“Relax, tiger. I’d rather you have a panic attack out here where I can get to you quicker than have one hidden away in the bedroom.”

Okay, Peter stops glaring. 

He feels a little humiliated, but whatever. Red Hood’s probably right, despite how much Peter absolutely does not want him to be. He huffs, settles into the blankets, and squeezes his eyes shut. Red Hood laughs, loud and obnoxious again, before ruffling his hair. Peter opens his mouth, intending to bite him, but Red Hood draws his hand back before Peter can do that. 

“Night, kid,” Red Hood says, and Peter does not respond. 

He’s awake to the sounds of talking, much like how fell asleep. Peter keeps his eyes closed, trying to let his breathing remain even so Red Hood doesn’t realize he’s up. 

“I feel like a fucking freak,”A voice says, it sounds like Red from the phone.

“You are a fucking freak,” Red Hood answers, from the couch beside Peter. 

There’s an affronted gasp, before Peter hears a zip of a baggy being sealed. Part of him wants to open his eyes, see what Red looks like, but he figures the guy is wearing a cowl like Red Hood had on last night, still probably has on right now. There’s a clasping sound, like a suitcase being shut, before Red speaks, sounding like he’s right in front the couch, “Should have the results back within the day. Don’t know how much this is gonna give us, though, considering your mini me isn’t even in the Cave’s database.”

Oh, neat, they’re talking about Peter.

What results?

Peter consented to nothing. His spidey sense didn’t wake him up, so he knows they didn’t take his blood or secretly swab his cheeks. He would’ve noticed if they went for his fingerprints, like Red had mentioned doing last night. So what did they get that requires testing?

His cup.

He pictures last night, drinking from the cup Red Hood handed him, not even bothering to clean it himself, just utterly exhausted from the day he had. Red Hood had taken and washed his plate, but what happened to his cup? He didn’t even pay attention to it. Fuck, he’d make such a bad spy! There goes his plans of impressing the Black Widow!

“It’ll at least give us some ideas into who the kid is. He’s not in the system, but maybe his mom or dad are.”

Okay, that settles it-

Peter throws himself up, flailing until the blankets go flying off of him, and then he stands on the couch, so he’s above Red Hood. The man himself looks startled, eyes wide behind the cowl, staring up at Peter. He puts his hands on his hips, glaring down at the stupid bat, “You stole from me!”

And seeing Red Hood roll his eyes does nothing but anger Peter even more.

“I did not steal from you, Peter.”

Peter growls, baring his teeth as if he has fangs to show off. The sight shocks Red Hood, who furrows his brows, and turns to face Peter head on. “Kid, I said I’d get you back to your Aunt, yeah? To do that, I needed a bit more information. Instead of bothering you, I took it from a source I already had.”

If Peter wasn’t half spider, he wouldn’t give a single fuck about taking a sample of his DNA. In fact, he probably would have nodded along and offered up some more if it meant getting back to Aunt May. But as it stands, he’s got radioactive spider DNA twisted into his human DNA that he knows for a fact these two losers don’t need access to.

“Give it back,” Peter demands.

Red Hood’s eyes narrow, almost disappearing behind the cowl, “No.”

The other guy, Red, speaks up finally, “Uh, Hood, maybe we just give it up? I’m sure those guys at the base had some on file anyways.”

Peter turns to stare at Red, his cowl showing off more sharp points compared to Red Hood’s. He’s not as big as Red Hood, but still bigger than Peter. His spidey sense trills, telling him he can take Red on, easy, despite his smaller size. Almost subconsciously, Peter juts his head out, elongating his neck, attempting to intimidate Red.

Red balks at him, “What the fuck?” He whispers, taking a few steps away from the couch. Peter’s spidey sense sings at the victory. 

“Alright, kid, back off,” Red Hood interjects, “Red Robin’s right, ya know? We can destroy the DNA sample we got from the cup but those guys that had you in the pits likely took dozens of their own. Batman already swept the place clean, and all of their studies and experiments are back at the cave where Red Robin here is going to comb through it with a fine tooth comb. So sure, we’ll destroy it, but we already have your DNA, kiddo. This was just a fresh sample.”

There’s so many things Peter wants to say to that but all he says is, “Who the fuck is Batman?”

Red Hood and Red Robin seem to buffer in front of his eyes, before Red Robin speaks up, “You don’t know Batman?”

Peter stomps his foot, which does nothing as he’s still standing on the couch. 

“No, I don’t know who the fuck Batman is! And is your name actually Red Robin? Like the fucking restaurant? What the hell, man, that’s so lame!”

Red Hood barks out a laugh, but quickly goes back to his stoic face, the one he wore while basically threatening to steal Peter’s DNA. 

“Yes, that’s my name! And that restaurant went out of business like fifteen years ago, how do you even know about it?”

What.

Peter feels his face screw up, getting a headache where his eyebrows are scrunched together, “No, it didn’t,” Is all he can think to reply.

“Yeah, kid, it did,” Red Hood said, standing from the couch. 

Peter is no longer towering over the man, but they are instead eye to eye. It makes Peter feel stupid, suddenly. Like he just now realized he’s a ten-year-old kid standing on the couch to look taller. He huffs, glares at Red Hood one more time, and jumps down.

“No, it didn’t. Wanna know how I know that, burger boy? Because the stupid restaurant still makes those dumb commercials with their little saying: Red Robin… YUM!” Peter sang the last bit, ignoring Red Hood’s smile, “It shows up all the fucking time on my TikTok.”

“The fuck is a TikTok?” Red Hood asks, crossing his arms in a way that makes him look even more buff. 

“It’s… Wait, what? You don’t know what TikTok is? How old are you?”

Red Robin moves, back to his original spot that he had vacated after Peter scared him, “Hey, quick question for you, Peter! Who’s your favorite member of the Justice League?”

The confusion must have shown on Peter’s face because Red Hood dropped his arms as if they were dead weight. 

“I don’t- What do you mean? What is that?”

The air in the room suddenly felt stifling. Peter’s skin started crawling and he wrapped his arms around himself, glancing up at the two vigilantes that looked more like statues than humans right now. 

“Fuck.”

Red Hood shook his head, and then peeled the cowl off his face. Seeing his full face was a bit jarring, but Peter suddenly understood why Red Robin called him Red Hood’s mini me. Green eyes, nearly glowing, stared down at Peter. The cowl may not have covered his entire face, but Peter noticed it covered a few scars, mainly those around his left eye. Like the skin broke so intensely it was never able to heal back correctly. 

If Peter had black hair, he and Red Hood could be twins. Green eyes, white streak, and his spidey sense keeps telling him same, same, same as if Red Hood and Peter are connected even deeper than just by their cosmetic similarities. 

“My name is Jason,” Red Hood says, tossing the cowl to the couch. 

Peter swallows, does it again, mouth feeling way too dry to speak but he does it anyway, “Why are you telling me your identity?”

Jason sighs, “Have you ever even heard of the Justice League, Peter?”

He shakes his head, feeling a pit form in his stomach because what does that mean ? What does him not knowing who the Justice League is mean?!

“They’re an organization of heroes that work together to protect earth. They work independently from each other, but come together when needed. The original group is made up of Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Aquaman, and Martian Manhunter,” Red Robin rattled off, as if reading from a Wikipedia page. 

Peter had no fucking clue what to say to that. He had no idea who any of those people were, and frankly, they all sounded a little made up. Martian Manhunter? The fuck?

Some annoying voice in his head, it sounds like Wade, reminds him of Bill the Lobster. Yeah, he’s a weird one. So, okay, Martian Manhunter doesn’t sound too bad compared to that. But still! 

What does this mean? 

These guys obviously know about these heroes, so they can’t just be made up. Unless… Is this some psychological experiment? Some weird way to fuck with Peter’s head to the point where he goes crazy. It’d work, if Peter thought about it. Forcing him into the body of his ten-year-old self, making him die over and over again, and then placing him with two pretend-vigilantes that act like he’s the crazy one for not knowing a bunch of made up superheroes. 

His distrust must show on his face as Jason says, “We’re not shitting ya, kid, scout’s honor.”

Red Robin goes for his cowl, wincing a little as the glue pulls on his skin. Once removed, he tosses it where Jason did his, and then offers a boyish, disarming smile at Peter. Peter is immediately armed, not liking how blue this guy’s eyes are. Talk about a thousand yard stare. 

“I’m Tim. And yeah, you can believe us. Though it’s probably hard to believe…”

He looks contemplative, and Peter rolls his eyes at him. “What are you saying anyways, burger boy? That I, what? Forgot about an entire group of superheroes? There’s no way I wouldn’t know about these guys. New York isn’t that far away, and you said they protect the earth from threats. That’s basically what the Avengers do.”

Tim purses his lips, eyeing Peter like he’s a sample on a slide he’s about to shove under a microscope, “What are the Avengers?”

Yeah, Peter’s fixing to go full sicko mode on this guy. 

Jason must sense it, because he jumps between them, hands up in a placating way. 

“Easy, kid. Breathe.”

He doesn’t want to breathe (which, funny, considering just this time yesterday he was struggling like crazy to get out of the jello so he could breathe). Peter wants to break something, anything. Maybe everything. Jason watches him, nods, and then walks away. He rummages around the tiny kitchen, and comes back with a cup. Not a plastic one like he gave Peter last night, but a glass one. He holds it out to Peter.

“Smash it,” He instructs. 

Tim stands off to the side looking super not okay with the happening of events, but Peter is right on board. He takes the glass from Jason and turns, throwing it to the wall and watching it explode into a million sparkling pieces. The sound settles over Peter like a warm blanket. 

“Feel better?”

Peter turns back around, smiles, “Yeah!”

Jason’s smile mirrors his, and Tim says, “Okay, yep, there’s two of them, cool, awesome, what could go wrong.”

He realizes Tim must just be talking to himself so he doesn’t answer. 

Peter does answer the previous question, “The Avengers are like your made up Justice League,” Jason’s smile goes even wider, “Except they don’t really do a lot of work by themselves. They’re based in New York, and protect the earth from crazy, once-in-a-lifetime-except-they-happen-multiple-times-in-a-lifetime events.”

Tim nods, but doesn’t say anything. Peter rolls his eyes, “It’s made up of Iron Man, Captain America, Hawkeye, Black Widow, Thor, and Hulk. Well, I think they’ve added a few new members… Captain Marvel and Black Panther.”

It’s silent in the apartment, until Peter’s stomach starts growling. He digs his fingers into his belly, willing it to stop, but Jason swats his hands away. 

“Let me get you some clothes, Peter. We’ll head out for breakfast.”

Tim looks horrified at the idea, “What? You can’t take him out!”

Ignoring him, Jason heads into the bedroom that wasn’t used last night, the sound of drawers opening and closing his only response. Tim continues. 

“Jason! The LOA knows by now that Peter’s gone. They probably also know that one of us took him. They’re going to be watching us!”

Jason returns, handing Peter some jeans, and a hoodie. He runs to the bathroom, noting the shattered mirror has been cleaned up, but not replaced. He’s fine with not seeing himself. Stripping out of his borrowed pyjamas, he was quick to replace the clothes. He didn’t really want to focus too hard on his current little kid body. He held the hoodie up, though, before putting it on. The logo on the front was a yellow W, with lines flaring out from the sides. It almost looked like wings. The hoodie itself was a bright fucking red, and Peter was happy with it. It was also the softest thing he’s ever put on his body and he spent a minute just nuzzling into it. 

When he walked out, he was pleased to see the whispered argument between Jason and Tim that he tried his best not to listen to was finished. 

“So we’re going out?” Peter asked. 

Tim looked over at him, and his eyes immediately went to Peter’s feet.

“I think you need shoes, Peter.”

He looks down at his feet, rolling around on the soles, realizing he doesn’t have any shoes. Or socks. He wiggles his toes, pushing them into the carpet. 

“Well, Tim, why don’t you head to the thrift down the street and get him some?” Jason says, picking up his laptop and papers.

Tim sputters, “Why me?”

Jason gives him one look , and Tim says a quick “see ya later” before he’s out the door. Jason winks at Peter, “I’m gonna take a shower and get dressed. Been in this suit for way too many hours. Please just watch a movie and don’t do a runner on me.”

Peter tilts his head to the side, still focusing on his toes in the carpet, “I wouldn’t run. You might have a sniper waiting outside the building to take me out the moment I pop my head out.”

Jason looks absolutely disgusted.

“I would never hurt a kid.”

Spidey sense determined: that was the truth!

“We’re not fucking with you, Peter. We’ll go out for breakfast, and I’ll take ya by the library. You can do your own research, convince yourself however you need to. Okay?”

Peter watches him, his spidey sense basically purring at the big stupid man in front of him. God! Can Peter’s dad issues take a fucking hike for one second!

Jason grabs his clothes, heads for the shower, and the bathroom door shuts behind him with a quiet click. Peter heads for the bedroom, despite it having the smaller television, it's the only one with the VHS player. He rewinds A Goofy Movie while he looks for another one to watch. 

He wonders if Tim even knows what size shoes to get him.

God what if Tim gets him shoes that are too big…

Ooh, Flubber !

Peter swaps the tapes, and settles on the bed to wait for Tim or Jason, whichever one finishes their tasks first. 

Tim gets back before Jason’s done. He has a few sacks with him, and dumps one on the bed beside Peter, and five pairs of shoes fall out. They’re all different styles of sneakers, and different sizes. Peter just looks at them.

“I left before I got your shoe size so I just got a few different ones. Also I picked up some clothes. And a backpack, so you can carry your stuff. And I found this sketchpad that was still in the wrapping! So I stopped on the way back and picked up some colored pencils. And here’s a fun tourist book about Gotham! Don’t mind the outdated stuff, they haven’t published a new edition in… A lotta years. So this one’s pretty old but I figured you could still learn from it. And-”

“Tim, you’re stressing the kid out,” Jason says from the doorway, hair wet, wearing jeans, a hoodie, and a leather jacket over the top. He looked bigger out of the armor somehow. 

Tim looked back at Peter, and seemed to just now notice the wide eyed stare that was on his face. He smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, guess I got a little out of control.”

Peter nods mutely, picking up the shoes at random and holding them up to his foot, trying to see which one would fit him. He sees Tim and Jason share a look, a look Aunt May and Tony often share when Peter is doing something particularly Peter-like, but he ignores them. He finds a pair that fits well enough, they’re all black except for a streak of blue. He doesn’t notice until he’s put them on and stood up, but the moment he drops his feet to the floor they go to lighting up. 

He slowly raises his head up, finding Tim’s evil little eyes, and lunges for him. Jason grabs him before he makes contact but he’s pretty sure he’s hissing at Tim. All Tim does is dance out of the way and laughs, as if it’s perfectly normal for him to be attacked by a ten-year-old. 

“Enough, children, let’s go for breakfast before Petey here eats our heads off.”

Petey . 

He snaps, shoving Jason off of him, “Do not call me Petey!”

With a grunt, Jason barely stops himself from falling backwards like he did last night.

“Sorry, kid, no nicknames. Got it.”

Another look is shared between Tim and Jason, and then they finally head off for breakfast. 

Peter ate three plates of pancakes and four bowls of fruit before his body stopped screaming for food. Tim nonchalantly shoved his hot chocolate at Peter when he downed his and Peter happily drank that one down. Jason ordered pancakes and fruit to go, claiming it was for a “snack” later. But they stopped halfway to the library and Jason shoved it in Peter’s hands with the simple command of “eat”. 

Peter did.

He wasn’t full, doesn’t think he’s ever been full before really, but this is as close as he’s gotten in a long time. He got pretty close one time at the tower, when he was alone in the kitchen and found a stash of high protein bars made specifically for Captain America. Peter ate four of them and marveled at the feeling of not being hungry for once since the spider bite. He still grabbed a juice for the road. 

Now, though, Peter’s pretty satisfied with his state of hunger. 

And he’s currently gawking at the library that sits in front of him. 

It’s the biggest library he’s ever seen, seeming to stretch into the sky forever. There’s gargoyles at every level, some look like they’re roaring, others just observing passively. The building itself is shades of grey and black, blending in nicely with the matching clouds above them. There’s a sign above the door, but it doesn’t even look like a sign, more like it was born from the building itself.

GOTHAM CITY PUBLIC LIBRARY

MJ would be weeping at the sight of this place. 

Jason leads them in, heading straight for the front desk, even though Peter already sees the computers.

“Hey, Babs!” Tim calls, waving at the redhead behind the desk. 

The woman looks up, gently pushing her glasses back up her nose. She smiles when she sees Tim and Jason, but when her eyes land on Peter there’s a slight bump in his spidey sense. Just a nudge, as if to say, “hey, stupid, watch out”. Peter cocks his head to the side, wondering how on earth this woman could be dangerous to him, but deciding to accept it. If she knows Jason and Tim, then she’s likely a vigilante herself. Or at least part of the night life. 

Has Peter heard about any woman being involved?

O .

The mysterious Oracle. 

Is this her?!

“And who is this? Please tell me Bruce hasn’t done it again…” She sighs out the last bit.

Jason laughs, and Tim answers, “Nah, this one’s all Jason’s.”

Babs takes another look at Peter, eyes seemingly memorizing his face, likely focusing in on the green eyes and white streak in his hair. She looks over at Jason, then back to Peter. There’s a moment where Peter feels like he sees her brain stutter. 

“Is this… from last night?” 

Jason nods once.

And if that’s not confirmation enough that this Babs woman is the Oracle from Jason’s coms last night…

“Peter and I are heading to the computers,” Jason says, leading them over to the computers he saw on the way in. Tim stays to chat with Babs, and Peter lets his ears stay with him, ignoring whatever conversation they’re starting to have. 

Jason logs them in under his name, and sits back. He gestures for Peter to go ahead, and he doesn’t waste a single second. He’s googling everything Tim said back at the apartment, about every single made up hero, starting with Martian Manhunter. 

Peter nearly has an aneurysm when the search actually provides results. Granted, not a lot, but there are still news articles showing Martian Manhunter fighting alongside Superman and Green Lantern. What the fuck? Peter keeps going. Superman’s a Kryptonian? What the fuck does that mean?!

He feels like he’s having a stroke. 

Shit, maybe he had one on the bus with Ned and this is some weird in-between land. Maybe he’s hooked up to some crazy drugs right now in the medbay at the Tower and this is all some grand hallucination. 

Aquaman is from Atlantis. 

And that’s just generally accepted knowledge here.

Well, Thor’s pretty generally accepted for being a Norse God from Asgard. 

But!

Peter just can’t accept any of this. Mostly because it doesn’t make any fucking sense.

“This doesn’t make any fucking sense,” Peter says, turning to Jason with a pout.

Jason arches one eyebrow, highlighting a scar that runs through it. “What part are you confused on, kid?”

Peter sighs, sits back in his chair, chews on his lip for a minute.

“Why don’t I know any of these heroes?” He asks, throwing his hands at the computer. “And why don’t you guys know any of the ones I know?”

There’s a pause, before Jason scoots closer to Peter, knocking his chair against his, “Wanna know Timmy’s theory?”

Peter looks over at Tim, still talking with Babs, something about an Alfred taking away his coffee privileges. Returning his attention to Jason, he nods his head. 

“Different universes.”

It’s such a simple response, and he offers no other explanation. Does he need to? Peter doesn’t think so, because the more he works through that reply, the more the pieces fall into place. This is a different universe. Peter’s in a different universe. How? And why?

“What’s the last thing you remember, Peter? Before the pits.”

“I was on a field trip with my friend Ned. I was looking out the window, and we were listening to music together. And then… I don’t know, it just goes blank. One second I’m on the bus, the next I’m in the jello.”

Jason nods, face looking torn up and upset. “We’ll talk more about it at the apartment, yeah? For now, are you good believing that we’re not playing mind games on you?”

Peter thinks about it, and then huffs out a “Sure, whatever” that does nothing but earn him a crooked grin from the man. He stands, and Peter dutifully follows after closing out the computer. They’re halfway back to the front desk when Peter realizes he should’ve looked up Red Hood and Red Robin. 

“So…” Babs says, looking at the two of them as they rejoin the pair, “What are we telling Bruce?”

Jason grunts, “Nothing.”

Babs and Tim share a look this time. 

“You know that’s not going to work, Jay,” She says, tucking a stray piece of red hair behind her ears. She smiles at Peter when she catches him watching her, and Peter hates that he feels a blush on his cheeks. Can he just be fine for one second!

“Sorry, Peter, I don’t think I ever told you my name. I’m Barbara, but you can call me Babs!”

Peter nods, “You already know my name, Miss Babs,” He responds with a shrug.

Her laugh makes him puff out his chest a little more. “Please, just Babs is fine. Gosh, you’re so cute! Please don’t ruin him, Jay.”

Jason guffaws, lips curling as he registers the insult.

“What? Do you actually think I’d mess up a kid more than Bruce?”

So quiet Peter’s ears start ringing. “Don’t worry, I’m plenty screwed up already. My parents died when I was little and my uncle was shot in front of me!”

He means it as a joke, used to making the dead parents joke all the time with MJ and Ned, who would usually respond with, “Yawn, Parker, dead parents are a dime a dozen these days”. The adults around him don’t make a joke back, though. They offer varying levels of horrifying looks mixed with pity. Peter suddenly feels uber uncomfortable.

“Wow, uh, tough crowd,” He mumbles, which earns him a choked gasp from Tim as he says, “That was supposed to be a fucking joke?”

Peter shrugs, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket. Jason lays a hand on his shoulder, “Good joke, kid, wrong audience.”

“No! Not a good joke! Bad Jason!” Babs says, exasperated. 

“Okay, sure, whatever. Anyways, Peter wants to check out some books.”

News to him! “What? I do?”

Jason hums, “Yep, you do. Can he do that, Babs?”

A few clicks on the computer, and Babs is turning to Peter with a blinding smile, “Of course! Head on over and pick out a few books, Peter. Don’t worry about checking them out, I know how to find Jason to get them back.”

That sounds like a vague threat, and judging by the sick look on Jason’s face, Peter thinks it was. Tim laughs, disappearing into the shelves ahead of Peter, and Jason steers him to the… Ugh, kid section.

Peter hurries and turns on his heel, heading straight for the science section. Jason moves to walk with him, “You a nerd, Peter?”

A roll of his eyes is all he offers as an answer.

Part of Peter is worried the science is all different in this universe . If the heroes are different, and Red Robin went out of business over a decade ago, what’s stopping the science from being wonky? Peter stops short when he sees a book titled Dr. Sivana’s Periodic Discoveries . Peter begs the finest pardon he can, because who the hell is Dr. Sivana? He picks the book up, seeing shit like sivanium and protium written on the back. Peter tucks it into his arms, grabs another one titled Marvelium and Captain Marvel , and another What We Know About Shazamium . What the fuck are these elements?

“Doing some studying?” Jason asks, trying and failing to sound innocent. 

Peter ignores, heading out of the shelves, but seeing a bright blue book on the end cap that catches his eye. 

The Complete and Total History of the Justice League .

“How accurate is that book?” Peter asks, heading for it.

Jason follows, picks it up before Peter can, turns it over, then flicks through a few pages. He hums a few times, frowns, says, “Should be pretty good. The only way to get a totally accurate telling is to talk to someone in the League, but this is probably easier to get information from.”

Jason hands it to Peter, and he adds it to his pile. 

Together, they head back up to the front desk. Tim still isn’t back, but Babs looks over Peter’s choices, smiling in a way adults do with little kids at his choices. Peter grinds his teeth to not let himself get too angry. 

“We’re heading out, Babs. Tell Tim to run that sample before he forgets.”

The sample.

Chapter Text

They’re sitting at Bat Burger, Peter glaring down at his Bite-Mite meal while Jason shoves his Bat Fries into his mouth in a manner that would have even Ned calling disgusting. Jason stops for a moment, Peter thinks to breathe, and says, “I heard your stomach growl on the way back to the apartment, Peter. So suck it up, buttercup, and eat your kid's meal.”

The hand gripping his plastic fork squeezes to the point the fork snaps in half, falling out of his grip and onto the table. Jason smiles down at the mangled fork, as if Peter wasn’t imagining doing that to him.

With a grumble, Peter tears open the Bat-Mite box, trying to take an angry bite out of the Bat Burger but finding it impossible when… Dammit, the stupid Bat Burger actually tastes good! He hates this fucking place. He keeps eating, but he stays glaring, ignoring Jason’s happy little smirk. 

“What toy ya get?” Jason asks, maneuvering the food around his mouth so he could talk. 

Peter just stares at him, “You eat like a wild animal.”

And for whatever reason, the smile that comes to Jason’s face is ridiculously happy, like so happy and bright Peter thinks the guy might blind him. It’s also entirely uncalled for, given Peter just insulted him. Whatever, the weirdo, Peter shoves his hand into the box and pulls out the toy, hidden in an all black plastic bag. The words MYSTERY TOY written on the bag do excite Peter, but he bites the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling. He grips both sides of the bag and pulls, ripping it open with a satisfying yank that makes Peter want to trill in happiness. 

Out topples a little action figure, wearing a cowl that looks like Red Robin’s. The figure has a black belt over a red vest. A yellow cape that matches the fancy R that’s over where the figure’s heart would be. Green gloves and green boots that… don’t really match the rest of his suit but Peter likes it all the same. He also likes the sword in the figure’s hand, and the frown on the little guy’s face. This action figure looks as angry as Peter feels. 

Peter loves him.

He holds him up in awe, moving the arm holding the sword into a position so it looks like the vigilante is guarding himself with it. He pulls the legs apart to a fighting stance, and sets him carefully on the table. Lowering his head, Peter stares at him and smiles.

There’s a click, like a camera shutter, that draws Peter’s attention.

Jason is holding his phone up, shit eating grin covering his face. Peter realizes, slower than he would like, that Jason took a fucking picture of him.

“Delete it,” Peter demands.

Jason lowers his phone, raises a single eyebrow, and says, “Nuh huh.”

He is not proud of the way he reacts to Jason’s gleeful little “nuh huh” but, well, Peter never did have good impulse control. Everybody in his life could come together to complain about that particular characteristic of his.

Anyways… He crawls over the table to attack Jason.

He’s met with genuine amusement, Jason laughing as he ducks out of the way, a simple swoosh sound coming from his phone. Peter knows what that means, he sent the picture off and away, to whoever was on the other side of the line. What the fuck is this guy’s problem? With a growl, Peter stuck his hand to Jason’s phone, yanking it away from him. The surprise on Jason’s stupid face pleased Peter as he crawled under the table to fuck with Jason’s phone. He shoved himself into the farthest corner in the booth, biting Jason’s hand when it came close to him.

“Ow, what the fuck? Did you just bite me?”

Peter hissed, not even really thinking before he did it, “You put your hand near my mouth, not my fault!”

There’s grumbling from above but Peter ignores it as he focuses on his prize. It’s opened to a group chat, named “Red Hood and the Not Red Hoods”. Peter hates Jason so much. There’s a text thread currently going, and Peter sees the picture Jason took. The action figure is standing on the table, sword up, and Peter is eye to eye with it, smiling like a fucking weirdo. He looks so… Young. Peter remembers seeing that face in pictures only. Except his eyes were brown and his hair wasn’t streaked with white. 

The picture was captioned “Peter loves Robin” by Jason. Somebody fucking heart reacted to it, oh my god!

There’s a reply from someone named “Replacement”, Peter has no idea who that is, but they said: those two can never meet. Oh? How come? What would be so bad about Peter meeting Robin? Is it because of the sword?

The next person, named All Seeing Eye, which Peter thinks is Oracle, so Babs, responded: They’d be so cute together! :D

Replacement: before or after they kill us and take over the world?

All Seeing Eye: Before! <3

Peter’s pretty sure Replacement is Tim, as he’s the only other person Peter’s interacted with. Also the only one he thinks knows about him. After all, Jason had brought Tim in by saying it was to keep a secret from B, which Peter just now realizes must be the Batman they had mentioned earlier. 

Peter stares at the group chat for a second more, changing the name to “Two Losers Plus Babs”, and sends a flipping off emoji. He locks the phone, and crawls back into his seat, eyeing Jason who is looking at him with a really unimpressed face. Peter rolls his eyes, searching the table for the Robin figure. He finds nothing. He looks under the table, but doesn’t see it there either. Peter actually gets a little worried, he had liked the figure, to be honest. But it was just gone!

“Looking for this?” Jason said, raising his hand up from behind his back to show off Peter’s Robin. 

He reached for it, but Jason withdrew his hand quickly, hiding it behind his back again. 

“Let’s make a trade, kid. My phone for your little doll.”

“It’s not a doll! It’s an action figure!” 

Peter has no idea why he argued that, already hearing MJ berating him, that boys can play with dolls, too, Peter. But that wasn’t the point! If it was a Ken, sure, yeah, it’d be a doll. But this is an action figure! It has a sword! For action!

“Are we trading or not? Because I can always just get another phone, but what are the odds of you getting another Robin? He’s relatively new, ya know, to the Bats line-up. Pretty rare. I’m sure any other kid in this joint would love to have their very own Robin!”

Jason looks around, and Peter copies him, seeing plenty of other kids in the restaurant. He listens in, hears a few opening their own toys, and one boy sighs, far more dramatic than Peter feels he has ever been, says, “Man, another Nightwing. I’ve been trying for the new Robin for ages!”

Fuck.

Did Jason pay him or something, what the hell?

Peter slaps the phone on the table, teeth biting into his lower lip, and reaches out his empty hand for the action figure. Jason hesitates, but cooperates when Peter bares his teeth and growls. They’re both awfully slow with the exchange, neither really trusting each other, but it does happen. Peter yanks his Robin to his chest quickly, almost afraid Jason would trick him. He checks it over, seeing his sword still in hand. 

“Really? You renamed the group chat?”

Peter sticks his tongue out at him.

It’s once they’re back in the apartment that Peter tries his luck.

“Why do you need to run my DNA? You said I’m not from this universe, and it makes sense to me. What good is my DNA going to do?”

He’s sitting at the coffee table. Jason cleared it off for him, making room for Peter to set his library books, the sketchbook and colored pencils Tim bought him, and his Robin. He’s half heartedly flipping the pages in Marvelium and Captain Marvel, not really reading anything, but finding the diagrams interesting enough. He’ll probably read this one first, though, when he does get around to reading his library books. Mostly because he’s fascinated by the fact this place has a Captain Marvel too. 

“I said Tim’s theory was that you were from a different universe. Running your DNA will either disprove that theory, or add more evidence to it.”

Peter purses his lips, hating how logical that sounds.

There’s a sigh, and Jason sits down on the couch behind him. His knees knock into Peter’s back, forcing him to turn around and look at him. He looks sincere, determined, maybe a little sick. “We know you have powers, Peter. So if you’re worried about your DNA tattling on you, don’t worry about it.”

And now it’s Peter’s turn to be sick.

“Kinda hard not to notice, kid. You literally pushed me into the wall last night. And after you beat the shit out of the mirror, your cuts were all healed up, like they were never even there. You admitted to having enhanced hearing, too, remember?”

God, Peter’s terrible at keeping secrets. Might as well tell them he’s actually sixteen and moonlights as a vigilante named Spider-Man.

“And your little sticking trick at Bat Burger didn’t help you.”

Peter had just wanted the phone.

He didn’t even really think Jason would notice.

“And you hiss way more than any other kid I know. It’s actually pretty scary, ya got a good thing going. But yeah, it’s all adding up to the simplest result: you’re a meta.”

Huh? “Meta?”

Jason tilts his head, thinking for a moment, “You have enhanced abilities. We call people like that meta. Metahumans. What do you call it?”

“Mutant.”

Jason curls his lip, “Kinda mean.”

Peter agrees, but only in his head. 

“People don’t like mutants. There was a whole… Thing about it. Still about it, I guess. It’s not good to be a mutant, back home.”

He’s being honest, even if he doesn’t really want to be. There was a reason Peter never thought about revealing himself, beyond just endangering his family and friends. Tony got away with it, because he’s not a mutant, he just has money and brains. Captain America was created so long ago everybody just kind of lets him pass, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s a fucking war hero. But he’s seen how the Scarlet Witch is treated. The X-Men. Considering every time he logs on to Twitter one of the trending tags is #AntiMutant, yeah, even if Peter only had to worry about himself, he’s honest enough to admit he would likely never reveal himself as Spider-Man.

“What thing?” Jason asked, voice quiet.

Peter thinks about the Church of Humanity. The last headline he saw about them was that they had crucified a few mutants on the lawn of the X-Mansion. It was scary, how people reacted to it. Twitter was a nightmare that day, with the memes, and jokes, and the “the world is better off” tweets. But he doesn’t really want to talk about it. So he shakes his head, moving his Robin around the table, as if the figure was guarding Peter’s things.

Jason, thankfully, accepts.

“Metas aren’t crazy accepted. I won’t sugarcoat it for you, kid, they get shit on frequently enough for it to be an issue. But they aren’t… They’re just people, to those of us that give a shit. The Justice League is made up of enough metahumans that people… Value… Them, I guess, and fuck, that doesn’t sound too good. Just… You’re not gonna be, like, assaulted on the streets or something.”

Peter mulled over what Jason was saying, wondering how much of it was true and how much of it he thought was true. If you weren’t a mutant, or meta, it’s likely you never even think about what they go through. His Aunt doesn’t think about it. Tony only thinks about it when the government “butts their noses in”. Peter thinks about it all the time. So, sure, from Jason’s perspective maybe Gotham isn’t so bad, maybe this universe isn’t so bad. But Peter would rather have his powers kept in a box locked inside his own head than let any others know about it. 

He thinks about his DNA, remembering all the different samples he gives Dr. Cho monthly. Tony wants to keep an eye on him, citing worries about Peter’s metabolism and other such things, thus he wants to keep track. Peter never cared, and still doesn’t, but that’s because it was Tony. His spidey sense trusts Jason, and Tim and Babs by extension but… Peter isn’t sure he trusts them yet. 

Feeding him and letting him do his own research has gone a long way to earn his trust, though. 

“What do you think my DNA is going to give you?”

It’s silent, the only sound being the non stop yelling all around them, and a gunshot going off every now and then. 

“See if ya got any family. Any relation to anyone, really. If not, combined with all the shit that’s gone on, Timmy’s theory about you being from a different universe is pretty solid. We aren’t running it to poke at all your secrets, kid, I promise.”

He sighs, opening his colored pencils and finding a blank page in the sketchbook. “You’re going to find out I’m radioactive,” Peter says, drawing a little web in the corner of the page. 

“I’m sorry, you can’t just say that all nonchalant as if that’s- as if it’s normal being radioactive.”

Peter shrugs, “Hulk is radioactive.”

A groan makes Peter look away from adding the spider to the web, finding Jason pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, well, Hulk doesn’t exist here, as far as I know, so you being radioactive is pretty abnormal.”

He returns to his drawing, adding a little fly stuck in the web. 

“It’s normal to me.”

Neither of them speak for a minute more, and Peter focuses on his drawing. Adding webs all over the page, more spiders, and more insects trapped in webs. He makes one look like a mini Rhino, the dick, and then scribbles all over it to make it look like the spider has wrapped him up in a silk cocoon to eat later. 

Ha ha, Peter thinks.

“Where do your powers come from?” Jason asks, having probably thought about it too long.

Peter wonders what he’s thinking. Strength, stickiness, hearing, healing. What does that make someone think of? Certainly not a spider. 

He just hasn’t seen it all together, Peter reasons. Add in the webs, Peter’s inclination to crawl on his feet and hands up walls and on the ceiling, and the fact it all started from a spider bite, well… Spider-Man. 

He thinks about lying, saying it was some lab experiment gone wrong, like he was dipped into a tub of radioactive goo. But would that help him? They don’t know him as anybody but Peter. To them, he’s a little kid with some weird powers, and far away from home.

He really wishes he knew how he got far away from home. 

Something must’ve happened to the bus he was on. He hopes Ned was okay. Maybe Peter hit his head? Got dragged away by some baddie? 

And then they, what? Shoved him into a teleporter and sent his ass to Gotham?

Jason waits, way too patiently, and Peter sighs through his nose, resigning to telling the truth. “I got bit by a spider.”

Silence.

“A… Spider.”

Peter nods, “Mhm, yep.”

“What the fuck?” Jason whispers, “Just a spider?”

“Not just a spider. This spider was like experimented on to the max. Poor thing was a spliced monstrosity of a billion different species of spiders, and then was pumped full of anything else the scientists could think of.”

Jason clears his throat, sits up a little, opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it. Peter says, “So, ya know, I was bit by a radioactive genetically modified super spider. It happens.”

It happens, Jason mouths. 

Peter smiles, returns back to his drawing. 

He’s drawing a little Superman flying beside Iron Man when his sense tells him someone new is coming. 

Peter chews on his lip, wondering why it didn’t wake him up to tell him Tim, Red Robin, was coming. Then again, Peter could’ve taken Tim, even in his sleep. Maybe that’s why. Peter’s awake this time, so his sense is giving him a cursory warning, as if saying here, damn, if you wanna know when someone’s coming!

The knock at the door doesn’t startle Jason, so he thinks the guy knew too. Why didn’t he at least tell Peter? Rude.

Jason goes to open the door, but doesn’t let the mystery guest in. Peter notices he’s blocking the view inside the apartment, keeping Peter hidden. But Jason’s heartbeat is normal, calm, so this guest isn’t anyone to worry about. 

Peter surmises if his sense and Jason are cool, he should be cool, so he keeps drawing. 

“Hello, Dickie,” Jason greets.

The other person’s heartbeat is fast, but not from anxiety. Peter thinks this guy’s heart is always pumping quickly, as if he’s always buzzing. 

“Jay,” this Dickie person says, “You will not believe what I just found out.”

Peter gets a creepy crawly feeling up his back, and has a bad feeling that this Dickie guy found out something about him. He draws a blast coming from Iron Man’s repulsors.

“I’m gonna kill Tim.”

And the creepy crawly feeling intensifies. 

“Now, Jaybird, that’s no way to treat Timmy. He just figured you might need some… Help, considering what he’s found from a certain sample.”

He already ran Peter’s DNA? Peter looks at the clock on the wall, noting it’s nearing seven. They’ve been gone from the library since before noon, so he guesses Tim could have ran it that quickly. Do they have access to a lab, though? Daredevil wouldn’t be able to just rock around and run DNA samples all willy nilly. Tony? Definitely. Peter? With the help of Tony. But regular, run of the mill vigilantes? 

Maybe they’re not regular vigilantes. 

There does seem to be a lot of them, Peter thinks. 

Batman, Robin, Red Hood, Red Robin, Oracle. Nightwing, Jason mentioned him yesterday, and so did that kid at Bat Burger. That’s six, just that Peter knows of. 

That’s a pretty large team of vigilantes. 

And with one of their members being in the Justice League, perhaps they have access to crazy stuff. Like how Peter has access to crazy stuff because of Tony. Or Kate has access to stuff because of Hawkeye. 

Peter’s getting a headache. 

“Spit it out, Dickie, I’m trying to make dinner.”

And- not true. Jason had put chicken nuggets and fries in the oven ten minutes ago. While he’s been waiting he’s just been reading. 

“I know about the kid, Jason. What are you doing?”

There’s a very loud sigh that comes from Jason before he kicks the door open wider, allowing Dickie to come into the apartment properly. Peter had fixed himself so he was half facing the coffee table and half facing the door, so when Dickie enters, he immediately zeroes in on Peter. 

There was a hard set to the man’s jaw, with his blue eyes (what is with these people and the blue eyes? Was Tim not enough?) scanning around the place as if he was a cop on a mission. The moment that he sees Peter everything goes soft. His eyes go a little wide, and his jaw unclenches. There’s an uptick to his lips and oh god, Peter thinks the guy might start crying. 

“Hi there,” Ewww… “My name’s Dick. I’m Jason’s brother. Are you Peter?”

The soft, quiet tone makes Peter want to punch him- hold up. Brother?

Peter turns to Jason, “You have a brother?”

Jason shrugs, grabbing a cup from the cupboard. Filling it with water, he hands it over to Dick, who takes it as he continues basically cooing at Peter. “Tim’s also my brother, if that does anything to your brain.”

It very much does.

“Wait, you guys aren’t just, like, a team of vigilantes? You’re… Family?” Peter hadn’t meant to say the final word in such a disgusted manner. Truly.

It’s just-

God, it sounded like the Fantastic Four. Way too wholesome for Peter. Wade would be having a field day with this bunch for sure. Peter couldn’t wait to tell him about it.

Well, if he got to go home.

Dick answered, “He knows about us?”

Jason nods, “Not you, though, Dickie. He knows me and Tim, and I’m gonna guess he knows about Babs.”

“Babs is Oracle,” Peter confirms, to which Jason makes a “told you so” gesture. Dick looks massively uncomfortable with this news, but says nothing. Peter keeps looking at him, then at Jason, before he rudely says, “Are you adopted? Because Tim and Dick look alike but you don’t look like them with their,” Peter shudders, “Blue eyed stare.”

Jason nearly drops the jug of juice he was pulling out the fridge, barking out a laugh. Dick guffaws, hand reaching up to ghost at his eyes, as if he didn’t know they were blue in the first place. 

“Believe it or not, kid, I used to have blue eyes too.”

Peter is floored.

“Oh my god so it’s like an epidemic here.”

Jason keeps chuckling, filling a cup with the juice before bringing it over to Peter. He says thank you, pretending like he hadn’t watched Jason water down his juice. 

“My eyes were brown,” Peter says after taking a sip of the watered down apple juice. 

Dick’s face actually looks like the sad faced emoji, and Peter is disgusted by it. Jason just nods at the information.

“So you know you were in the Lazarus pits?” Dick asks, moving to sit on the couch. 

Peter squirms a little under his undivided attention. Tim wasn’t so bad because he was focused on everything around them. And Peter was scaring him, which was fun. Dick’s blue ass eyes are 100% focused on Peter, and Peter only. He actually hates it. 

“Is that the jello lake I was in?”

Jason checks the chicken nuggets and fries in the oven, before coming to sit on the couch by Dick, behind Peter. “Yeah, you’re the only one that calls it that. The rest of us call it the Lazarus pits. It brings people back to life. Sometimes.”

The last bit is said ominously, and Peter wonders who the others were that didn’t get to die and come back over and over in the Lazarus jello. 

“I don’t know how I ended up there. I woke up in it,” Peter tells Dick, trying not to make eye contact.

He returns to his drawing, adding Captain America off to the side. 

“How’d you get out?” Dick asks, not hiding the fact he’s looking over all of Peter’s items on the coffee table. His eyes stop on the Robin, and Peter snatches it away quickly, placing it in his lap. Jason does a bad job of hiding his smile behind his non watered down cup of juice. 

“I didn’t.”

Dick’s heartbeat does a funny thing at that. 

“Not the first time, at least. I didn’t know where I was, or why I couldn’t see. I was too far below the surface, I think,” Peter doesn’t know how to draw Batman, so he just makes a giant shadow with pointy ears on his page, “So I drowned. A few times, actually. It was really hard to swim through that stuff. One time, though, I didn’t really try… I was just tired so I let myself stay under that time.”

Are those tears in Dick’s eyes? 

“The last time I was just mad. I think I basically kicked my way out. And then I ran and ran until I found Jason.”

Jason snorts, “If by finding me you mean running full throttle into me. Thought I was being attacked until I saw it was just a naked kid.”

Peter glares at him. “Please don’t ever mention that I was naked again, weirdo.”

His hands go up in a mock surrender, “So sorry, kiddie.”

Peter thinks Dick wants to change the subject from all the times Peter’s died, which is alright with him, so Dick focuses on the action figure. 

“Can I see your Robin action figure? I haven’t got to see them since they announced it.”

Peter hums, picking up his Robin and holding it pretty tight. His eyes flick between the figure and Dick, and then over to Jason, before back to his figure. Jason seems to understand his dilemma and laughs at him. “Kid, I promise Dick isn’t going to steal your little doll.”

“It’s an action figure! See the sword, dumbass? It’s for action!”

Dick is surprised at the cursing, but smiles at his argument. “Yeah, Jaybird, the sword is for action.”

Peter respects Dick for supporting his argument, and very carefully hands over his Robin. He watches Dick the entire time, but all the man does is stare down at the figure with something Peter can’t quite name in his eyes. He probably knows the vigilante, Peter assumes, if they’re all one big, weird ass family. Are they friends? Or do they hate each other? 

“Are you Nightwing?” Peter asks, drawing Dick’s attention back to him.

Jason speaks before Dick does, “Knew you’d figure it out, kiddo.”

Peter rolls his eyes, holding his hand out for his Robin back, to which Dick gingerly hands the figure back. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. “Yeah, I’m Nightwing. You’ve met about half of us now.”

Half.

Half?

Half?!

“What the fuck?” Peter says, turning to face Jason, “Why are there so many of you? What’s wrong with this city?”

Jason and Dick share a look, before Jason answers, “Gotham needs a lot of help.”

And that was it. There was no other information offered, as if that was all Peter needed to know. The oven beeped, and Jason got up to take the nuggets and fries out before they burned. Dick scooted over on the couch, closer to Peter, offering a weirdly charming smile that immediately disarmed and armed Peter at the same time.

He turned back to his sketchbook rather than look at the weird man. 

He kept his Robin firmly in his lap, though, eyeing Dick out of the corner of his eye just to be safe.

Peter would easily admit, in his head only, that he preferred eating with just Jason over having Dick there. He kept trying to make Peter talk, about anything, his likes and dislikes, what he did for fun, did he like pizza? did he like to spend time with friends? 

He felt like he was going to explode.

Jason, thankfully, took pity on him.

“What’d Tim find in the DNA?”

Dick eyed Peter, as if trying to decide if he should speak while in front of him. Peter resisted the urge to bare his teeth at him.

“C’mon, Dick, Peter knows we ran his DNA and he hears well enough that even if we sent him away he’d know everything you said.”

Peter did allow a feral grin to take over his face, one he usually only let happen under the Spider-Man mask. Dick looked immensely uncomfortable at the sight, and Jason just rolled his eyes. “Ya know, knowing you’re part spider, I get it now. You’re so small ya gotta intimidate people by seeming scary, just like a little spider.”

The disgusted sound that came from Peter was an entirely new sound to him, but it felt right. 

“I’m not a little spider!”

Wait, why is he arguing about his size? It’s like at Bat Burger, when he argued about his Robin not being a doll. He doesn’t actually care about that! Does he? His brain feels weird.

“Sure, whatever ya say, baby spider.”

Wade’s spider baby echoes in his head on a loop, and Peter feels a little sick.

“Um, so you know he’s meta?” Dick asks, interrupting their little argument. 

Jason dips his chicken nuggets into his ranch, which yes, Peter has already gagged at the crime of it all, and nods his head, “Yeah, we talked about it earlier. I was just wondering if Tim found anything interesting. Any familial relations?”

Dick shakes his head, his hair falling a bit into his eyes, before he easily runs a hand through it to push it back. The action made him look very handsome, like a movie star. Peter hates him. 

“None. But you knew that already, too, didn’t you?”

Jason offers a boyish smile, cheeks full of nuggets and ranch. 

“So now that we all know I’m meta and not from this universe, how do I get back? I wasn’t lying about my Aunt May, she’s probably really worried about me.”

Dick gives him a sad face, “I’m sure she is, Peter. We’ll work it out, don’t worry.”

“I’m not calling Constantine,” Jason says, touching his finger to his nose. Peter realizes he’s playing “nose goes”. This guy, this guy that’s in charge of Peter’s well-being and care, is playing nose goes over who calls the guy that Peter assumes is going to get him home. He’s going to be stuck here forever, good fucking god.

Dick sighs, and for once, Peter shares one of those looks with someone, him and Dick eyeing each other as if to say “Jason’s being Jason, again”. The man pulls out his phone, scrolling for a minute before he stands, says, “I’ll reach out to him, you overgrown child,” and steps into the bedroom. 

As if Peter couldn’t hear everything. He would have better luck with privacy if he just left the fucking state. 

Peter continues eating, trying not to listen to Dick’s phone ringing, and ringing, and ringing. He dips his nuggets (dino shaped, because Jason thought he was a toddler, apparently) into his mustard, like a law-abiding citizen, and continues eating. Jason looks to the closed bedroom door, and then back to Peter. 

“You sleeping in the bed tonight, kid?”

Odd question, Peter thinks, shoving a few fries in his mouth. “You made me sleep on the couch last night,” Peter accuses, “Did you even sleep last night?”

Jason shrugs, which makes Peter narrow his eyes at him. “Doesn’t matter. ‘M just asking, anyways. You’re the little spider that tumbled out of the bed, remember?”

Peter wants this conversation to end.

He shoves more food in his mouth in an effort not to have to talk to Jason, who just smiles at him and sips at his drink. 

Unfortunately, not talking means just listening, which leads Peter to-

“It’s a kid, Constantine. Around ten, maybe younger.”

Silence, just breathing, and Constantine on the other side of the phone seems to be taking his sweet time to answer.

“He’s just here, then? No bumps or bruises? Tough kid.”

Constantine has a rich voice, with an accent Peter’s only heard in movies and tv shows. There’s a shink sound, and then a puff, and Peter realizes the man just lit a cigarette. Gross. 

L smoker, Ned would say. Peter almost smiles at the thought.

“Came out of a stray Lazarus pit.”

Peter idly thinks Dick is giving away too much information, but whatever. If it gets him home, he’s alright with throwing everything at this Constantine. 

“Fascinating. What’s Daddy Bats say ‘bout ‘im?”

Daddy Bats…

Is Batman… Dick’s dad? Wouldn’t that make him Jason’s dad? Peter eyes Jason, who has gotten up from the table to refill his and Peter’s drinks. 

“Not quite in the loop yet.”

There’s a laugh, loud and a little mean. Dick sighs, as if irritated by the response.

“Well, you’ve definitely piqued my interest, Nightwing. Be there in three weeks.”

Three weeks?!

Jason places Peter refilled cup down in front of him, retaking his seat just as Dick comes out of the bedroom. He has a wrinkle between his brows, which Peter understands after listening to the conversation. Before Dick can even sit down, Peter speaks, “Why three weeks? Isn’t Constantine magic? Can’t he, like, I don’t know, teleport here?”

Dick looks taken aback, turning to Jason who winks at him. “I told ya the kid can hear well.”

Dick eyes Peter out of his peripheral, “I didn’t think you meant that well!”

“So… Three weeks?” Peter questions again, setting his Robin on the table and pretending he was battling the dino nuggets. 

“Yes, he’s magic, but he also does… Other things. We should be happy he’s coming in three weeks. Batman called him once for help and he showed up six months later.”

Jason smiled, “Ah, B was so angry. I loved that day.”

Peter has no idea why he did it, but a little roooaar came out of his mouth as he pretended his pterodactyl nugget was swooping in to attack Robin, to which Robin lifted his sword (pushed up by Peter’s pinky finger) and impaled the dino. It fell in a downward spiral (Peter adding the faint screaming effects) to his plate, splatting into the mustard. He stopped to take a drink from his juice, finally noticing the two men staring at him with overly fond looks on their faces. 

Heat rushed to his cheeks, and Peter realized he was blushing like crazy. Why had he done that? He hasn’t… Played like that in years! Why did he do that? That’s so embarrassing. 

He decides the best course of action is to pretend that did not happen, at all, no way, and just go back to eating. So he shoves the pterodactyl dino in his mouth, glaring down at his plate so he doesn’t have to look up at the two men still staring at him. 

“I think we should tell B,” Dick says eventually. 

Tension descends upon the room, so heavy and thick Peter almost chokes on his nuggets. Jason’s heartbeat speeds up, which isn’t really normal for the guy, at least Peter thinks it isn’t. He’s only known him a little over 24 hours, but during those hours his heartbeat has always been pretty settled. Dick’s is humming quicker than when he first came here, Peter deciding he’s nervous after his statement to tell B. 

Does Jason hate Batman? Constantine had called him Daddy Bats, and Peter had wondered if that made him Jason’s dad. Do they not like each other? They’re both vigilantes, so he imagines they might argue a bit about their patrols. Peter’s argued with Daredevil quite a lot. Mainly because Peter throws himself head first into danger, and Daredevil would prefer he not do that.

“No,” Is Jason’s only answer.

It sounds very final. Peter nervously starts eating more fries.

“Jay…” Dick pauses, choosing his next words carefully, “Peter’s going to be here for the next month. How are you going to patrol? Somebody has to watch Crime Alley. And he’s going to eventually ask Tim for an update on all the equipment they recovered from the LOA base, if he hasn’t already.”

Crime Alley.

Are they in Crime Alley? What kind of name is that? No wonder Peter’s heard nothing but various different crimes going on in this place. Why does Jason live in a place called Crime Alley? And how in the hell is this place such a garbage fire with a small army of vigilantes running around?

“I said no.”

Peter would probably back off (he wouldn’t) but Dick doesn’t. He just keeps going, disregarding the weird way Jason’s eyes start to glow. 

“He’s going to find out about Peter, probably sooner than later. What’s your plan for that, Little Wing? Keep Peter locked in here for the next three weeks?”

Peter bristles at that, swallowing the food in his mouth as quickly as possible, “I’m not staying locked up!”

Jason looks at him, eyes dimming a bit, but not by much, “I won’t lock you up, Peter.”

Dick threw his hands in the air, obviously irritated, “So, you and Peter are just going to hang out for three weeks? Eat junk food and go to the library. Let Crime Alley fall into chaos. Ignore Batman when he inevitably finds out about everything. And then what happens when Constantine shows up? Huh?”

Peter’s never had siblings, and none of his friends have siblings, so he has no idea if this is a normal way siblings interact, but it really looks like Jason is about to crawl over the table (previous example: Peter at Bat Burger) and attack Dick. 

“I’ll still patrol. I’m sure Peter can handle staying a few hours alone,” Jason says, but even as he says it, there’s a frown on his face, as if he doesn’t really believe his own words.

Dick says nothing, just raises a single eyebrow, as if saying “really?”. Jason growls, eyes sparking, and pushes himself away from the table. 

“What’s your grand plan then, Dickie? Pack Peter up and drop him at the manor? Let Bruce fuck him up in the three weeks he’s in Gotham so when we send him back to his universe he’s a mangled up Robin Junior?”

Oh.

Peter thinks Jason really doesn’t like his dad.

Is Batman’s name Bruce?

Do you actually think I’d mess up a kid more than Bruce? That’s what Jason had said to Babs, earlier at the library. Peter doesn’t really like the sound of this Batman slash Bruce. Still…

“No offense to whatever trauma you’ve suffered, but I think I’m already pretty fucked up as it is. At this point, I mean, what’s a bit more damage done to my psyche matter in the grand scheme of things?” 

Peter was trying to lighten the mood, but like his dead parents joke earlier it completely misses the mark. Dick looks so grief stricken Peter wants to immediately apologize. Jason’s eyes hurt to look at so Peter averts his gaze to his Robin, picking it up with both hands and dragging it to his chest. He feels weird about hugging it to himself but a part of him also feels soothed by the little figure. 

“He doesn’t have to stay at the manor, Jaybird,” Dick’s voice is soft, calming, and Peter actually feels better listening to it, “Just- He could stay over? Let you patrol a few nights. Alfred would take care of him, you know that. Think of it like… Babysitting.”

Dick winces as he says the word, almost whispering it, and Peter knows exactly why. Because as soon as the word babysitting hits Peter’s ears he’s out of his chair. He stands so quickly the chair falls backwards, hitting the floor with a thwak. “I don’t need to be babysat!”

Dick sighs, looking up at the ceiling, or Heaven, Peter doesn’t know. “Peter, I know you don’t need to be babysat.”

He says it sincerely enough, but Peter hears the spike in his hummingbird heartbeat and he seethes. His hands tighten around his Robin and he feels himself start vibrating. Something changes, because Jason’s eyes are back to a cool green, like a gemstone, and Dick’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“Hey, kid,” Jason says, coming around to kneel in front of Peter, so similar to last night in the bathroom, “Breathe, little spider.”

Peter is breathing. He feels every ragged pull through his nose, it burns into his lungs, and his chest heaves violently with every breath. What does Jason mean, breathe? Can’t he see Peter is?!

“With me, kiddo,” Jason pries one of Peter’s hands away from Robin, and Peter lets it happen. The now freed hand is placed against Jason’s chest, laid reverently over his shirt. It’s so soft, Peter thinks idly. He sticks to it, suddenly not wanting to let go. He feels Jason’s heart, hears it, beating underneath the palm of his hand. It’s calm, steady. So different from Dick’s, and Peter’s. There’s an inhale, and Peter’s hand moves up as Jason takes a deep breath in, and then an exhale, and Peter’s hand goes down. 

The process repeats. 

Peter doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but Peter feels better after a while. 

“Good?” Jason asks. 

Peter nods, and it’s when Jason drops Peter’s hand and attempts to stand up that the sticking thing becomes noticed. He blushes as Jason looks down where his shirt is being pulled by Peter’s setules. He blushes, letting go and pulling his hand back to his Robin.

“Thank you,” Peter whispers. 

Jason fixes Peter’s chair, and offers him a crooked smile. “No sweat, Peter.”

Everything settles, though Peter feels a bit stupid for his reaction. He eyes Dick, who does nothing but give him a genuine smile. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Peter, really. I just wanted to make Jason feel better about you, maybe, staying over at the manor every so often.”

Peter sits in the righted chair, and Jason goes back to his. “The manor?” Peter questions.

“Where we used to live,” Jason answers quickly, moving on before Peter can ask any more questions. “Fine, we tell Bruce. But it needs to be made clear to the old man that Peter stays with me, got it?”

Dick nods so fast his hair kind of flies all over the place. “Of course, Jay, of course!”

Jason sighs, looking like he made a deal with the devil, before he starts cleaning up from dinner. He gives Peter a look, and then says, “Go take a shower, kid. You can wear the same pyjamas from last night until we wash those clothes Tim got you.”

Peter frowns, looking down at his W hoodie. “I just showered last night!”

“Yeah, and we’ve walked all over Crime Alley today. You literally sat on the floor at a fast food restaurant. Go wash the outside germs off your body before bed.”

Bed?!

“It’s not even nine yet! Why do I have to go to bed now?”

Dick is quietly laughing, trying and failing to hide his smile. 

“Because little spiders need their beauty sleep so they can be nice and feral in the morning,” Jason practically sings.

The growling comes from deep in Peter’s chest, earning him a very unimpressed look from Jason. “We talked about this. Your little thing of trying to appear scary isn’t going to work. Shower, now.”

The last part is a command, and Peter wants to rage against it. But he thinks back to Jason breathing with him, and he deflates. His shoulders fall and he shoves himself back from the table, blowing a raspberry at Dick who snorts in between laughs. He almost slams the bathroom door shut behind him, but his eyes spy the vacant wall where the mirror was, and he closes the door as quietly as he can. 

Peter sets Robin on the counter, sword up, facing the door as if he could protect him. He feels a lot better with the figure standing guard, as childish as that seems. 

By the time he exits the bathroom, hair damp and Robin firmly in his hands, Dick is gone and Jason is in the bedroom. Peter grabs his Sights of Gotham! book Tim bought for him, looking at all the wrinkles and tears on the cover, and looks inside to see the copyright date. 

1996.

Tim said it hadn’t been updated in a long time, but this is- crazy. No one’s taken a look around and thought there was anything new to write about? Just how bad was Gotham? Maybe it was all like Crime Alley. Peter felt shivers go up his arms.

Jason appears from the bedroom, “C’mon, Peter, time for bed.”

He rolls his eyes, feeling like a toddler but heading toward the bedroom anyway. Jason plucks the book from his hands, “No reading after bedtime,” Jason says, dancing out of the way of Peter’s hands. 

The bedroom is the same as it was last night, except… Something is different. Peter looks around, trying to find it, but can’t it. He hesitates, but walks in, heading for the VHS shelf. Thumbing through the options before finding Land Before Time. Sad, but Peter remembers watching it every night with his mom. She would quote the movie, arms wrapped all the way around Peter, holding him to her as he curled into her on the couch. 

Huh.

He didn’t remember that until now.

He rewinds Flubber and switches the movies out. Jason is hovering in the middle of the room, and Peter is doing his best to ignore him. 

“Don’t get mad at me,” Jason pleads, and Peter tenses.

“You left the light on last night. And that’s all fine and dandy, but according to some sleep experts it’s bad for your circadian rhythm or whatever. TV light isn’t that good either, but definitely the lesser of the two evils, right?”

What the fuck is Jason even talking about?

“So I figured we could compromise,” Jason heads over to the nightstands, and Peter sees what’s wrong. There’s no longer just a pile of books on the table but a white ball with a few buttons on top. Jason taps it, and it makes a little sing-song sound as it turns on, and then he taps another button. It shines light up to the ceiling, the image of a bat being projected upwards. It looks a little like the red bat from Jason’s armor but less sharp, more rounded edges. Peter watches it as it moves in lazy circles around the ceiling above the bed. Jason heads to the lightswitch by the door, flicking the main light off. The tiny TV glows to light up where Peter’s standing, and the bat lights up nearest the bed. 

“Tim got it while he was out. We’re in Gotham so unfortunately all they had was a Batman light, but I thought you wouldn’t mind. Good?”

Peter wonders if somewhere online would have a Robin themed light. He’d like that over this Batman one. And- what the actual fuck is he talking about? Is he really thinking about which goddamn nightlight he’d prefer? 

He gives a shaky thumbs up to Jason, who mimics the action with a smile. 

Walking to the bed, Peter climbs in and settles under the blankets. He keeps Robin with him, feeling foolish and a little embarrassed for the nightlight and sleeping with the toy. But Jason comes over and makes sure the blankets are secure around him, and pushes play on the movie, so Peter thinks it’s alright.

After all, he’s in the body of a ten-year-old, right? It’s not so bad if he acts like one every now and then. Jason would probably find it weird if he acted like his real age, anyways. He’s doing this to keep everything normal, yeah, for sure. 

He falls asleep watching the bat drift around, and hearing Little Foot calling for his mom. 

Chapter Text

Dick is back.

Peter wakes up to clanking sounds in the kitchen, Jason humming under his breath, eggs being cracked and then scrambled (if the clinking of the whisk against the bowl is anything to go by), and Dick’s hummingbird heart in the living room. He rolls over, taps the button that turns off the nightlight, and shoves the blankets back. He rubs at his eyes, looking around the bed for Robin. The figure is shoved into the pillows, and Peter quickly scoops it up.

“Peter’s pretty good at drawing,” Dick comments, the sound of a page turning hitting Peter’s ears.

The sketchbook, Peter realizes. He left it sitting open on the coffee table. He feels a little weird at Dick looking through it, but he also didn’t draw anything weird in it. Plus Jason watched him draw nearly the entire time. 

He shuffles out of the room, the sound of the door opening drawing Dick’s attention. 

Dick holds up Peter’s sketchbook, smiles, “I love your drawings, Peter!”

Immediately, he feels alright with Dick going through the book. He whispers a quiet, “Thank you,” and continues to the kitchen, heading for Jason. The man in question turns to Peter, smiling wildly, “Good morning, sleeping beauty! How’d you sleep?”

Peter sits at the counter, placing Robin on top facing him. “Good. I liked… Um,” Peter feels Dick’s eyes on him, “I slept fine.”

His cheeks heated, and the blush ran down his neck. For some reason, he doesn’t want to mention the nightlight around Dick, shame burning hot in his belly. Weird. He didn’t feel shame last night. Hadn’t he thought it was alright to act like a ten-year-old? He still believes that, definitely. He just- doesn’t want to talk about the nightlight in front of anybody but Jason. And he guesses Tim, since he bought the thing.

Jason’s eyes crinkle, “I’m glad, Peter. Hope ya like eggs and toast for breakfast. Courtesy of Dick.”

The chair to Peter’s right was filled by Dick sliding into it, “Couldn’t stand another meal of yours being diner food or something frozen. Look! I even got you some fruit, Peter!”

A bowl of fruit is shoved into Peter’s face, nearly toppling into his lap. Dick looks so proud of himself that Peter feels obligated to pick something out to at least take a bite of. There’s oranges, apples, grapes, and what the fuck is that? It’s purple, shaped like an eggplant, but definitely not an eggplant. Peter picks it up, turning it this way and that as he examines it.

Jason chuckles when he sees Peter confusion, “That’s a q’tasba melon. Alien fruit, brought here a few decades ago. They grow it locally, actually. It thrives in Gotham’s amazing climate.”

He’s joking at the end, Peter notes. But what the hell? An alien fruit just casually being cultivated on earth? Is there anything like that back in his universe? Peter hasn’t heard about it. He’s sure there would be an uproar if an alien brought food to earth and just started growing it. People were far nicer to aliens than mutants, but even then… 

“You have to try some, Pete, it’s so good,” Dick says, grabbing one of the plates Jason laid out and the knife he set down as he began cutting up the melon.

Jason huffed, “Hey, dickhead, I was literally using both of those items.”

Dick shrugged, “I’m sure you have another plate and knife, Jaybird.”

Once it’s been cut up, Dick hands a piece of it to Peter. He takes it, sniffing it carefully, and decides it smells sweet enough. He chews on it for a minute, deciding it tastes like a cross between a strawberry and a green apple. 

“That’s really good,” Peter declares, which prompts Dick to shove the entire plate of the fruit at Peter, demanding he eat the entire thing. “It’s actually really good for you, Pete. Carrots are good for your eyes, right? Well, this melon is good for your lungs! They did so many studies on it, and it actually helps fight lung cancer! Which is beneficial here in Gotham given all the air pollution and toxins.”

Peter’s about halfway through the fruit before he pauses, hand at his lips. “Air pollution and toxins?”

Jason’s plating the eggs and toast, and dropping broccoli on the side. He passes a plate to Peter, and then Dick, before taking his own. Dick gets up to get drinks, again watering down Peter’s juice, this time orange. 

“Way to sell Gotham, Dickie,” Jason comments, biting into the broccoli first. 

Dick shrugs, “He’s gonna be here for a month, man, so he’d find out sooner or later.”

Peter copies Jason, going for his broccoli first, though not really happy about it. 

“Is Gotham, like, a terrible place?”

Jason and Dick exchange a look. “It’s just not the best. There are good parts to it, but the parts that aren’t good, are really, really not good.”

“Like Crime Alley?” Peter guesses, waiting for Dick to continue.

He nods, “Yeah, like Crime Alley. We try to help where we can, but sometimes it’s not enough, and sometimes it’s too much.”

Peter wonders what that means. How can there be too much help? Peter liked working alone, but when he teamed up with Deadpool and Daredevil it was always nice. The rare times Tony would let him tag along with an Avengers mission was good, too. Captain America would usually say an extra pair of hands was always appreciated. 

“How many vigilantes does Gotham have?”

Jason pretends to count on his fingers, and Peter laughs in his orange juice. “Well, there’s me as Red Hood, Dick as Nightwing, Tim as Red Robin. And then there’s Batman and Robin, Spoiler, Signal, and Batgirl. Babs is Oracle, but she’s our behind the scenes master.”

Dick nods along, “Without Babs, we’d all probably be dead.”

Jason chews on his lip, thinking for a minute, “Nah, I think it’s less a probably and more like a definitely.”

Peter knew Babs was awesome, he didn’t need to be convinced. 

“And Batman is Bruce?” Peter asked.

Jason laughed, while Dick seemed nauseous. “How’d you get that?” Dick asked.

Peter looked at him like he was stupid, because he was. “You kept mentioning a B. And Batman. And then at the library yesterday Jason mentioned Bruce messing up kids, and then he mentioned it again last night when you two were arguing. But he said Bruce when you kept saying B or Batman. Ergo, Batman’s name is Bruce.”

“Did you just fucking say ergo?”

Peter rolls his eyes, “It means therefore, or consequently, or-”

Jason’s hands fly around his body, as if waving away Peter’s words, “I fucking know what ergo means!”

“Then why’d you ask if I said ergo like you didn’t know what it meant?”

“Because I’ve only ever met one other little kid that’s used that word! Gave me whiplash!”

“I am not a little kid!”

“Okay!” Dick yells, interrupting them, “Jason knows what ergo means, and Peter isn’t a little kid, I think we can stop yelling at each other now.”

Peter glares at Jason who glares back at him, and neither of them speak. While staying locked on each other, Jason reaches over and knocks Robin over. Peter gasps, insulted at the action, and moves to crawl over the counter to throttle him.

Dick holds him back, all while looking at Jason, “What the hell is wrong with you, Jay?”

Jason’s laughing, having moved away from Peter’s hands as they swipe at him. 

“You sure have a bad habit of crawling over things, baby spider,” Jason mocks, and that just makes Peter start hissing.

Dick was huffing in his struggle and Peter wasn’t even putting a fraction of his strength into it. He tapped into it, though, and enjoyed the feeling of Dick’s arms losing control over him. Peter slapped his hands on the counter, stuck to it, and yanked himself up and over. Dick’s arms went falling away, and Peter lunged for Jason, who realized he was in danger a tad too late. Peter collided with the wall of a man, and both went falling to the small kitchen’s floor. Peter held Jason down, and bared his teeth at him.

“Say you’re sorry!” Peter demanded. 

Jason stared up at him for a moment, and Peter saw his lips threatening to smile. Somehow, he kept a straight face through his apology, “Okay, okay! I’m sorry for knocking your Robin over. That wasn’t very nice of me.”

Peter growled, not really pleased with his sorry, but knowing it was likely the best he was going to get. He crawled off of him, and went back to his chair, continuing to eat his broccoli and then moving on to his toast. Thankfully the scuffle didn’t mess up anyone’s breakfast. Peter would have felt bad if he ruined the food Jason had spent so long making.

Dick collapsed backward into his chair, blinking a few times, “Fuck, it’s like a mix between Damian and Jason.”

Peter fixes his Robin, setting the sword upright, and then spinning the figure so it faces Jason. “He could kill you,” Peter says, staring at Jason.

Dick laughs, full bellied, nearly doubling over. Jason looks disgusted at the sight, before he says, “He fucking wishes.”

Jason goes back to his breakfast, just like Peter, while Dick struggles to recover. Peter wants to laugh at the glare Jason is giving his Robin, but he also wants to tackle him again. This mental fight happens for a while, until Peter remembers the conversation they were having before everything went sideways.

“Is Bruce your dad?” Peter asks, mouth full of q’tasba melon. 

Jason chokes, so Dick answers, “Yes.” That answer causes Jason to slap his hand down on the counter, and he says, “No.”

Peter waits for the two men to figure their shit out, eating the rest of his food. 

“He’s like our dad. Better?” Dick says, trying to appease Jason, who curls his lip everytime one of them says dad. 

Peter thinks, in hindsight, he should’ve steered clear of this conversation given he had the inkling already that Jason really didn’t like his dad slash Bruce slash Batman. But, well, here they are.

“Wait, does Bruce, like, adopt you guys and turn you into vigilantes or something?”

Dick winces, rubbing the back of his neck as he thinks of an answer. “No?”

“You don’t sound too sure…”

A sigh. “Well, I don’t think he wants us to become vigilantes. But he does train us, and then he doesn’t really stop us, so…”

Peter doesn’t comment anymore, but in his head he thinks this Bruce guy is an asshole. Who trains up a bunch of kids and just lets them run around a crime filled city?

Tony appears in his head.

Okay, well, in Tony’s defense, he didn’t train Peter until after Peter nearly died. Which was after Tony took away his suit. Which was after Tony gave him the suit and recruited him to fight against the Avengers.

So maybe Tony and Bruce aren’t that different, but at least Tony’s superhero identity is cool! What kind of name is Batman? Is he part bat? Peter doesn’t think so! At least for Tony his first suit was literally made of iron. 

So ha! Tony - 1, Bruce - 0. 

Why is he comparing them?!

“Are we going to the manor today?” Peter asks instead, hoping it lightens the mood.

It very much does not.

Jason starts snatching plates and cups off the counter, dumping them loudly into the sink. He’s making a lot of noise, and it’s obvious he’s angry. It’s different than last night, though, because last night he was frustrated with Dick. This time it’s obviously something Peter has said, keeps saying, that’s upset Jason and Peter feels something ugly crawling up his throat. Jason’s moving things too roughly and one of the plates falls from his hands, smashing on the floor into a million pieces. It’s loud, and ugly, and Jason swears, slamming his hand down into the sink and breaking the other plates. Peter, not really understanding why, grabs his Robin and fucking sprints back to the bedroom. He shuts the door quickly, and crawls under the bed, to the corner of the room. He’s curled into an impossibly tight ball, Robin held to his chest, before he realizes what’s going on.

It was like his body was on autopilot. 

He hasn’t been scared of noises like that in so long. Uncle Bed used to be angry, after his mom and dad died. Aunt May would say Uncle Ben just missed Peter’s dad so much that it was hard for him to deal with it. Uncle Ben never hurt Peter, would never want to hurt Peter, but he broke a lot of things, yelled a lot. He’d usually cry after, saying he was sorry, so sorry. He started going to therapy after that, just like Peter. 

But Peter would hide. 

Uncle Ben would yell and throw things and Peter would crawl into closets or under beds to make everything more quiet.

It was like an instinct for him, muscle memory. His body reacted before his mind ever even had the chance to catch up. 

And now he’s back under the bed.

Hiding.

He doesn’t want to hear Dick or Jason, so he lets his hearing go. Closes his eyes and imagines Gotham as one big web. All the roads and alleys different lines of silk, and Peter lets himself visualize crawling through the web. He hears shouting, always shouting, but he doesn’t want more shouting. He crawls past the shouts, the yells, the gunshots, the sounds of things breaking, and finally finds something he doesn’t mind listening to. 

Laughing.

In some apartment, blocks and blocks away. She’s a little girl, younger than Peter (in this universe), and she’s apparently playing with an older woman. Her mom, Peter guesses. He can’t see their faces, but he tries to imagine what they look like. She’s running, he can tell by her heartbeat and how quickly she’s breathing. The woman is chasing after her, purposefully going slower, taking very measured steps. Eventually the game is over, the mom scoops up the little girl, blowing raspberries into her tummy, which causes the girl to squeal. Peter smiles, a memory of his dad playing this game with him coming up suddenly. 

The web dissolves, Peter falling back to himself, as his spidey sense alerts him the door is opening. 

He doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t want to see, and tries to scoot himself even further back into the corner. It’s impossible to go farther back, but he tries anyway. His hands hurt from how tightly he’s gripping Robin, the sharp pieces of his cape and boots stabbing into his palms. 

His eyes are closed but he knows it’s Jason.

The heartbeat is faster than normal but it’s calmer than a hummingbirds. He sighs as he sits, facing the bed, and Peter wills himself away but it doesn’t work.

“Peter,” A whisper, the softest Jason has ever spoken to him, “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

He chews on his lip, not wanting to argue that he wasn’t scared! because he’s man enough to admit he was. He absolutely was. That’s why his body had reacted the way it did. But he’s not scared anymore. Right? 

His heart has slowed, but his hands are still clenched. 

So maybe just less scared, but still scared. 

“Bruce… And the manor, they’re- it’s a tough subject for me. That’s not your fault, and it’s something I’m working on, but… Guess I still gotta long way to go with it.”

Jason shakes his head, Peter knows, by the sound of his shirt rustling. Peter wonders why it’s tough for him, wonders what happened, what did Bruce do? Because it had to be Bruce, he decides. Jason is too nice. Too… Kind. He took Peter in without even knowing anything about him. Gave him clothes, and food, and introduced him to his family. So whatever the issues are they have to be because of Bruce. 

But.

Well, Peter’s issues with Tony aren’t just because of Tony, right?

Peter’s made some mistakes. Lots of mistakes. Sometimes the same mistakes over and over. Tony makes them, too. Their problems aren’t just on Tony’s shoulders, despite what Ned and MJ like to say. So. Peter guesses it isn’t fair if all the issues are on Bruce’s shoulders.

Peter’s still Team Jason. 

“My uncle did that,” Peter whispers, but he knows Jason hears him because his heartbeat jumps and his body tenses. 

“Broke things?” Jason asks after a while. 

Peter loosens his hands from Robin, and very slowly opens his eyes. Jason is sitting with his legs crossed, hands on his knees. Peter can’t see him from the chest up due to the bed. He doesn’t know why that makes it easier to talk.

“Sometimes. He was mad. After my dad died.”

Jason waits, so painstakingly patient it puts Peter on edge.

“Aunt May said he was just sad. Because I lost my dad and he lost his brother.”

Peter finds it interesting when Jason’s breath hitches on the word brother. He thinks of Dick, eavesdropping but trying to be stealthy about it against the bedroom wall. Jason remains silent, waiting for Peter to continue.

“I never liked it. When he would yell and break things. I hid in my closet a lot. Or under my bed. He was always sorry after.”

Peter crawls out from under the bed, and it must be a weird sight, because Jason makes a face before seeing that Peter is watching him. He scoots back, giving Peter room, and then the two of them sit. Legs crossed, facing each other on the floor.

“I didn’t get it. Until my Uncle Ben was killed,” Peter doesn’t even realize he’s crying, “And then I got mad, too.”

Jason’s fingers twitch on his knees, and Peter hugs his Robin to his chest, thinking of his Iron Man figure Uncle Ben got him after his parents died. He’d held on to that thing for years. Well after he had actually met the real Iron Man. To the point where Tony had found it in his room and teased him about it. 

“Are you still mad?” Jason asks.

Peter thinks about it. “I think I’m always mad,” Peter admits. 

It’s very obvious when Dick says “hug him”, even though he pretended it was a cough. Peter smiles, feeling wobbly, catching Dick’s eyes as he peaks around the opened bedroom door. Jason sighs, hands lifting to a hover over his knees. “Do you want a hug, Peter?”

Peter likes that he asked. 

He thinks Dick would have just gone in for the hug. 

“Please,” He whispers.

And then he’s engulfed in those giant arms, pulled into Jason’s chest, no red bat to trace. Just Jason’s steady heart, and his soft shirt. Peter presses his ear to his chest, focusing hard on the heartbeat buried there, and wraps his arms as far as they go around Jason. Robin is being smashed between them, but neither care. 

Peter doesn’t feel sixteen right now. 

Not even close.

They are not going to the manor today, much to Jason’s obvious relief. Peter feels a stab of guilt for having obviously triggered him with the constant questioning, but Jason waves his apologies away. Dick makes a plan to tell Bruce about Peter, which Jason makes a sour face at. 

“It’s either you tell him or I do, Jaybird.”

“Why do we have to tell him at all?”

“Are you just going to waltz into the manor with Peter trailing behind? Damian will kill him.”

“He wishes he could.”

Neither really liked Peter’s response to that, but Jason did laugh after Dick left. Jason cleaned up the breakfast disaster, and told Peter their plan for the day was to stay inside. 

“We’re not going anywhere?” Peter had questioned, pulling his Captain Marvel book into his lap as he sat on the floor nearest the window. 

“Nah. You should read a few of your library books, and I have some things around here to catch up on.”

And apparently when Jason has “things to catch up” he means reading his own books. Peter feels content, then guilty for feeling content. Here he is, lounging in Gotham’s version of sun (clouds), reading about Captain Marvel, and what about everybody he knows back home? Surely they’re worried about him. Aunt May would be beside herself. Peter wonders if Tony is out looking for him still. Does time work the same way in both universes? If so, it’s only been a few days since he’s been gone. Tony wouldn’t give up after only a few days. 

But then, Peter doesn’t even know what happened. 

Maybe he died in his universe and that’s why he’s here. Jason called it the Lazarus pits, and said that it brings some people back to life. Did it bring him back, all the way from his universe? 

He hopes he isn’t dead. 

But isn’t he already technically dead? He died in the jello. Sure, he came back, but he died. And maybe he died on the bus. Maybe it was a terrible accident, and not even Peter’s spidey sense could save him. 

What a bummer way to go. 

“Are you even reading?”

Peter jumped at Jason’s voice, turning to see the man watching him. “Yes, I’m reading!” Peter defended, even though he very much wasn’t. 

“Mhm, sure, and that’s why you haven’t flipped the page in seven minutes.”

What an oddly specific amount of time. Was Jason watching him? Is Jason even reading? The battered book in his hands looks like its been read over and over again, but that doesn’t mean Jason’s rereading it now. 

“I got stuck on a word,” Peter grumbles, totally lying.

“What word?”

Peter’s eyes snap back to the page, scanning and scanning for any word that seems semi hard to read. He’s about ready to smash the book into his face when he just says the first word he sees, thankfully he remembers to say it wrong, “Archive.”

He says it with a “ch” sound, rather than a “k”, and Jason’s eyes narrow at him. Can he really tell that Peter’s lying? 

“It’s archive,” Jason says, pronouncing the word correctly. 

Peter smiles, showing probably too much of his teeth, “Thanks!” And then he flips the page so hard he nearly tears it out of the book. He winces, smoothing out the pages, and pretends he doesn’t feel Jason’s eyes on him. 

“So, was nobody going to tell me Captain Marvel was a boy or was I just supposed to figure it out myself?” Peter questions later.

Jason hums, eyes slowly looking up from his book, “Hm?”

Peter shakes his book in his lap, as if that explains everything. When Jason still offers no comment, Peter sighs, and slams the book closed. “Your Captain Marvel is a dude.”

A singular arched eyebrow is all Jason gives him.

“And your Captain Marvel isn’t, I’m presuming?”

Peter rolls his eyes, “Duh! She’s this badass superhuman that could easily take out any baddie.”

He hasn’t fact checked that last part. But he’s seen Captain Marvel fight, and even Hulk looks weak compared to her. She’s strong, and fast, and pretty, and nice, and Peter is starting to realize he totally has a crush on her, what the hell? When did that happen?

Jason brings him out of his thoughts, “So… You’re upset that our Captain Marvel is different from yours?”

Peter shrugged, “I don’t know, I guess I thought since she’s so strong in my universe maybe she’d just… Be the same here. Like she’s so powerful she exists across all universes.”

Jason furrows his brows, sitting up from where he was slumped into the couch. “That sounds more like God than a superhuman.”

Whatever, Peter thinks.

The popping sound Jason’s body makes as he stands up nearly makes Peter gag. The man just flips Peter off when he sees Peter’s disgusted look. He twists his back, creating more popping sounds, and says, “Hungry? It’s a little after lunch. We could go out, or just snack on all the fruit Dick brought.”

The melon from earlier does sound pretty good. Before he can respond, Jason’s phone starts ringing. He glances at it, groans when he sees who it is, and ignores the call. The person calls again. Jason hits decline harder this time. The person keeps calling, until seemingly out of nowhere the call connects despite Jason not hitting answer. He glares at it, “How’d you do that, Replacement?”

“Not telling,” Tim’s voice answers through the phone.

So Peter’s earlier assumption that the Replacement in Jason’s phone is Tim is correct. Now Peter’s just left wondering why the fuck he’s saved under the name Replacement. What did Tim replace?

“What do you want?” Is the gruff response he gets from Jason.

It doesn’t seem to bother Tim at all, who responds cheerily, “I’m coming over. I bought some more stuff for Peter that I figured he could use. Dick told me he’s hanging around for a few weeks.”

Peter crawls toward the couch, but he must’ve done it in a weird way (he did) because Jason looks down at him with a face twisted up into a horrific expression. He stops crawling, realizing he was crawling on his toes and fingertips, not on his hands and knees like a normal kid would. His knees were also drawn up near his ears in the current position he was, almost like he was getting ready to jump. 

“Yeah, whatever, just stop by whenever you want, don’t ask or anything,” The eye roll was pretty clear even if Tim couldn’t see. “Also, Peter, kid, please fix yourself. I am straight up not having a good time looking at you right now.”

Peter tilts his head, debating whether he should jump at Jason, and something must show on his face because Jason stands quickly and rushes to the kitchen, putting the counter between them. Peter lets himself drop, laughing at the reaction, making a mental note to launch himself at Jason sometime. 

“Oh and since you’re coming, stop at Bat Burger and get us lunch, loser.”

Tim sounds like he’s running, which Peter finds interesting, because when he replies he’s slightly out of breath, “What does Peter want, then?”

Jason looks at him expectantly, and Peter thinks back to the menu he basically just glanced at, “I want a Bat Mite meal and Night-Wings! And an Ivy Salad!”

The silence was a little deafening, if Peter thinks about it too hard, before Jason finally says, “Anything else, kid? Wanna order the whole damn restaurant while we’re at it?”

Peter hums and haws, “I have a fast metabolism,” He says with a shrug, moving to sit on the couch, draping his arms over the back as he watches Jason. 

“Wait a fucking minute. Hold on. Are you telling me you need to eat a lot?” 

Peter nods. Tim says, “How much is ‘a lot’?”

He doesn’t really need to think about it, but he likes watching the vein in Jason’s forehead do the little spasm thing it’s got going on. “Um, I need to consume about 20% of my body weight on any given day. If I do a lot of stuff that day then I’d need to eat more.”

“Define ‘stuff’,” Jason demands.

“Like, running around. Jumping. I don’t know, that kinda stuff.”

There’s a sigh on the other side of the phone, “So by ‘stuff’ you mean playing. Which is what kids do. Which is what you are.”

Peter frowns at the simplicity of it, not really liking the reminder that he’s just a kid to these guys. By stuff he really meant Spider-Man activities, but he couldn’t really tell them that could he? 

“So have you been starving since you’ve been here?” Jason asks, sounding disgusted.

Peter shakes his head quickly, so fast he almost wants to throw up, “No! I’ve eaten lots of food. Just, like… Not enough?” He winces at the end, not liking how Jason looks ready to hook him up to an IV drip.

“Okay, I’m at Bat Burger. Don’t worry, Peter, I’ll get you the Bat Mite meals, the extra Night-Wings, and the Ivy Salads! Bye!”

Peter obviously notices how Tim made everything plural when Peter had only asked for one of each of those items, but whatever. He knew he’d eat it all so he didn’t really feel bad for Tim getting it. Jason moves to the dyer that’s tucked into the back wall of the kitchen, next to the washer. He yanks out Peter’s clothes that Tim bought him, tossing them at Peter.

“Go change. Pretend like we haven’t been rotting in this apartment all day,” Jason commands, staring down at his own sweats and hoodie combo. Peter looks down at himself, seeing the fancy D on the pyjamas he’s borrowed, and runs to the bathroom to change. 

By the time Peter returns, Jason has also changed, dark jeans and a black shirt on instead of the comfy clothes. Peter was wearing jeans, too, and a red shirt with a black circle over his heart. Inside the circle was a yellow R. Peter holds his Robin in his hands, staring down at the same R on the figure that Peter wears on his shirt. 

“Nice shirt,” Jason says, sounding amused even though Peter doesn’t know why.

Ignoring him, Peter goes to clean up his books and things from the coffee table. He stacks them in a pile by the bookshelf. He sets Robin down on top of the pile, protecting his things. Sword up, scowling face looking out at the living room. 

While still lookin at the figure, Peter asks, “Who is Robin?”

Jason’s shuffling steps make their way to him, until his legs come into Peter’s peripheral, “Nah, not gonna work, kid. You figured out Babs, Dick, and Bruce, I’m sure you can figure out Robin.”

Peter’s eyebrows furrows as he turns to look up at him, “Not fair! I only figured out Babs and Dick because I got to meet them! And I only made the connection between Bruce and Batman because you and Dick are kinda dumb.”

Jason smiles at him, but it's a smile one gives a small child when they say or do something oh so cute. Peter’s hand shoots out, covering Jason’s mouth so he doesn’t have to see it. “Don’t smile like that at me!” Peter demands.

All it earns him is a tongue against the palm of his hand, and Peter goes to squealing. “Gross, gross, gross!” He yells, running to the bathroom to wash his hands. Jason’s laughing in the living room, and Peter rolls his eyes at the giant toddler. 

Peter’s senses prick, and his ears pull back, listening. 

He walks out of the bathroom, shaking his hands all over the place to dry them, sending water droplets everywhere. Jason throws him an annoyed look.

“Tim’s here,” Peter says.

Jason cocks his head to the side, a puzzling look taking over his face. “How do you know that?”

He taps at his ears, letting Jason think he just heard Tim, rather than his sense telling him somebody was coming up on the building they were in (with the intent to enter). Jason looks down at his phone, likely double checking Peter’s statement and his security system. A moment later there’s a knock on the door. Jason and Peter stare at each other for a moment, before the man goes to unlock and open the door. 

Tim has his arms filled, and Jason offers him no help. The man simply opened the door, and walked into the kitchen. He began pulling plates out of cabinets and filling cups with drinks. This time Peter gets the luxury of drinking soda. Actual soda, not watered down. Peter feels a thrill run through him at the thought. 

Before he could have his fully carbonated, definitely not good for him soda, he ran to help Tim. 

“Thank you, Peter,” Tim said, voice muffled by all the stuff in his way. Peter grabbed the food and handed it off to Jason, before taking half of the rest in Tim’s arms to the coffee table. Tim followed behind, setting his arm full on the couch. Peter didn’t really know where to look. He saw more clothes and shoes, and what looked like actual groceries. He even saw q’tasba melons! His hand shot out, ripping those from the sack and holding them up, “Look, Jason, more melons!”

Jason glanced up at him, “You’ll have the pinkest lungs in Gotham, kid.”

Tim started pulling everything out, throwing the clothes on the floor, saying, “Jason can wash those later.” He set the shoes near the couch, and then pulled out a thin box. Blue eyes looked at Peter, nearly piercing into his soul with how intense they looked, and Tim said, “Ta-da!” Shaking the box in his hands as if Peter should know what the fuck it is.

Peter didn’t quite react the way Tim wanted, judging by the way the man deflated.

“Do you know what this is?” Tim asked, showing Peter the box more closely. 

It was a grey box, sleek, with a sharp-edged W embossed on the front. Peter reached out, running his fingers over the front, feeling the raised edges of the letter. It was smooth to the touch. Definitely fancy. But, yeah, Peter has no fucking idea what it is. He shrugs, and Tim frowns. 

“You did not buy the kid a tablet,” Jason says, coming to stand behind the couch, watching them.

Peter wrenched his hand away from the box, as if it burned him. A tablet?! In a box that fancy? Oh god, Peter can’t believe he touched it!

Tim looked distraught at Peter’s reaction, “You aren’t going to break it, Peter.”

He begs to differ, honestly. He’s broken plenty of Stark branded items, despite them being advertised as nearly unbreakable. It got to the point where Tony started giving Peter products that hadn’t hit the market yet, to see if they passed the Peter Test. If they did, score! If they didn’t, then Tony sent it back to R&D. 

“I can’t take it,” Peter said.

Tim looked so sad. “Why not?” He pouted, which made Jason start fake gagging. 

“It cost a lot of money and I can’t pay you back.”

His explanation stopped the pouting and the gagging from the two men. They exchanged one of their looks, and Peter is really starting to hate when these two make eye contact. He might freak out the next time it happens. 

Jason speaks first, “Kid, you don’t have to worry about paying anybody back. Tim probably had this laying around his trashed ass room, anyways.”

Those bright blue fucking eyes turn to glare at Jason, before turning back to Peter. “Jason, while rude as hell, is right. I… work for the company that makes these tablets. So I get the new iteration for free. This ones an older model I have no use for.”

He looked a little sick when he said he worked for the company. Is he lying? He could’ve stolen it, Peter figures. But why? If he stole it, he would want to sell it, right? Make a profit. Not give it to some random kid that’s tried to attack him. Maybe he does work for the company, but he still also stole it. Both could be true, right?

Why not ask?

“Did you steal it?”

Jason snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, this little rich boy definitely stole a fucking tablet.”

Rich boy.

Peter feels his nose wrinkle. “You’re… rich?”

“No need to look so grossed out,” Tim says, rolling his eyes.

In Peter’s experience, rich people fucking suck. Tony was alright about half the time, but he also sucked the other half. He would make comments about stuff, not really intending to make Peter feel less than but it still did. MJ said it was the curse of money. Ned said it was just because he was Tony Stark.

Peter always thought it was a little of both.

But Tim… 

Peter guesses that would explain why he came back with all that shit when he was sent out to get him shoes. It’s a rich person thing, Peter knows, to just buy. He didn’t even know if Peter would like drawing, or if Peter wanted to know more about Gotham. He just assumed, and so he bought it. See a problem, buy something to fix it. Classic rich person mentality. 

Tim sighs, long and drawn out, “Yes, Peter, I’m rich. I grew up with wealthy parents, and now I have a well paying job that makes sure I stay rich. So let me give you this stupid tablet so you can watch the Robin videos I found for you.”

Peter snatched the tablet box from Tim’s hands so quickly that Tim flinched backwards in shock. “How do I see the videos?”

He’s been wanting to see Robin since he opened the stupid mystery bag and got the figure. A vigilante that fights with a sword? And has a cape? Yeah, Peter’s already a fan. 

Tim smothers his grin, but Jason lets his show outright.

With little fanfare, Jason pulls the box from Peter and opens it up, handing the tablet to Peter. It’s not black like Peter figured it would be, but a nice blue. Not the blue of Tim’s freaky eyes, but a sunny sky blue. He loves it. His fingers travel around the edge, looking for a button to turn it on, feeling rather successful when he finds it. Turning it on, he’s met with a swirling background, a blue matching the color of the tablet itself with the words “hello” shining up at him. Tim reaches out, sliding his finger up from the bottom to swipe the screen away. 

“It’s a Wayne tablet, just a couple years old. I set you up an account already, so we can just log you in.”

Upside down, Tim started typing away, entering Peter’s name and then a password, which he said, “I made your password as the date we found you, so 0816.”

August 16th? Peter went on his field trip May 10th, 2018. Is he forward a few months, or backwards? What year even is it?

“I saved the videos for you already,” Tim says, clicking on an app, opening up to show Peter an entire folder titled ROBIN. “They’re not very long. Civilians don’t capture the best videos, but it’s what’s easiest available.”

Jason huffed, “Didn’t wanna be bothered to go through security cameras?”

Peter watched Tim roll his eyes, “They wouldn’t be that clear anyways, you know how Gotham cameras are.”

Honestly, Peter was pretty surprised this place even had cameras. If it was as crime riddled as these vigilantes have said, and as Peter’s hearing tells him, cameras are pretty shocking. Before he can take his tablet and run away to watch the videos, Jason yanks it out of his hands. 

“Food first, videos after.”

Peter whines, flapping his hands around. Jason watches with an unimpressed face, “Don’t throw a fit, kid. Timmy just bought you half the stock at the local Bat Burger, so come eat.”

Peter plans to eat as quickly as physically possible, that he promises. Stalking over to what he’s now claiming as his chair, he basically throws his body into it. 

“Are kids always this dramatic?” Jason asks, placing the tablet on top of the cabinets, as if that could stop Peter from grabbing it. He starts passing out the food, and looks disgusted as Peter starts shoveling it in. 

Tim comes over, sitting beside Peter, “Have you already forgotten how Damian acted when he first showed up?”

“Stop that,” Jason demanded, glaring at Peter, “New rule: you have to wait until everybody else is done eating before getting on the tablet.”

“That’s not fair!” Peter yells, pieces of his Ivy Salad falling out of his mouth. Tim looks absolutely horrified, turning wide eyes to Jason, who just looks at Peter like he’d rather be dealing with anything else. “It is fair, kid, because I say so. And guess who’s in charge?”

There’s an evil little glee in Jason’s eyes as he says it, leaning over the table as he answers himself, “Me, kiddo, I’m in charge.”

Peter closes his mouth, swallowing his bite of salad, narrowing his eyes at Jason. When his mouth is empty, he says, “I’m stronger than you.”

His spidey sense does a little dance, Code Yellow blaring in his head. Jason’s green eyes stare into his, and it’s deadly silent in the apartment. For a moment, Peter wants to laugh, remembering this entire thing started because Peter wanted to watch Robin videos on a fucking tablet. God, how old is he again?

Tim breaks in, whispering more to himself, but due to the silence it sounds like he’s yelling, “Oh my god, Jason’s a dad.”

Peter and Jason whip their heads to stare at Tim, who flinches back at the sight. His eyes jump between the two of them, before he offers a wonky looking smile, and starts eating his own food.

“Is he really stronger than you?” Tim asks after a bout of silence.

Peter’s back to eating his salad, moving on to his second one, eyeing the tablet on top of the cabinets. Jason answers, halfway through his burger, “Pushed me into a wall his first night here. Don’t even think he was really trying to.”

He blushes, avoiding Tim’s curious eyes. 

“Interesting,” Is all Tim says, and Peter decides to leave it at that. 

Finally, fucking finally, Jason finishes eating. 

He had the least amount of food, and talked the least throughout the meal, but took the longest. Peter knows exactly why, but it didn’t stop him from fidgeting in his seat, whining, and glaring at Jason. What an ass! Peter thinks, wanting to web Jason to the wall. He really misses his webshooters right now. He hasn’t missed them these past few days, mostly because he hasn’t really needed them, but right now he could see their use clear as day. Webbing Jason up, and covering his mouth with some webs for good measure would be immensely satisfying.

Jason stands up, and Peter thinks it’s to get the tablet, but he turns, grabbing the sack the food came in and tossing it to Peter.

“Here, you little asshole.”

Tim frowns, “You shouldn’t call him an asshole, Jason, he’s just a kid.”

Peter resents Tim’s argument. “Hey! I’m not just a kid! I can be an asshole!”

Jason smiles, “Yeah, ya heard the kid. He’s an asshole.”

“Wait a minute,” Peter says, furrowing his eyebrows, which just makes Jason and Tim laugh at him. 

Whatever, Peter thinks, opening the sack Jason gave him. Looking inside, he sees four black MYSTERY TOY bags and eagerly dumps them on the table. His hands hover over them, eager to rip them all open but unsure which one to start with. “Am I sharing these?” Peter asks, eyeing Tim.

“Nah, they’re all yours, kid,” Tim says, waving him away. 

Peter smiles, grabs one and rips it open. Out tumbles an all black figure, and from Peter’s very brief research at the library, he’s guessing it’s Batman. The figure is taller than his Robin, and way more boring. The black cape with the black outfit and black mask with little ears sticking up. Peter’s lip curls, and he pushes the figure away. 

“Not a fan?” Jason asks, something mirthful showing in his eyes.

Peter shrugs, “He’s just boring looking.”

Jason nods approvingly, and Peter rips open another bag. This one has a blue and black suit, the same blue that the tablet is. He has blue gloves, blue boots, and a blue bird over his chest. The rest of his suit is black, with a matching black cowl over his face. Peter stares at it, trying to guess which one this guy could be. He knows it’s not Red Hood, and obviously not Oracle or Batgirl. Surely Red Robin has some red on his suit, so he doesn’t think this is him. Spoiler, Signal, or Nightwing. Only one of those sounds… Bird-ish.

“Is this Nightwing?” Peter asks, turning the figure around and around. 

There’s two batons strapped to the guys back, and when Peter pulls at them, he’s pretty impressed to see they’re removable. He slides them into the figure’s hands, and moves him so he looks like he’s ready for a fight.

“Yeah, that’s him. Dickie was pretty upset they didn’t model his toy after his Discowing suit.”

Peter blinks a few times, before looking up at Jason, “Disco…wing…?”

There’s an evil smile on Jason’s face, “When you get your tablet back you can look it up.”

A hum is all Peter responds with, and then he opens his third bag. Out topples a figure with a pill-shaped helmet on, and a bright red bat on its chest. Peter finds himself smiling, holding it up for the real Red Hood to see. Jason’s entire being softens, and he smiles back. Peter toys with the crowbar in the figure’s hand, before moving to open his last bag. 

When the last figure tumbles out, Peter feels an overwhelming sense of deja vu at the suit. It’s black and red, with yellow straps crossing over the chest. The man is wearing a black cowl, and has a red and black cape on. No weapons, Peter thinks sadly, but still.

Something about the colors and the suit look so achingly familiar. 

His suit never looked like this, though. He never wore yellows or blacks, always red and blue. Spider-Man colors. 

“That’s Red Robin,” Jason says, mistaking his silence for confusion on the vigilante action figure he’s holding.

Peter refocuses, ignoring the familiarity of the suit, and setting the figure up by the others.

“Almost a whole set,” Peter says, eyeing all of them.

“Which one’s your favorite?” Tim asks, already sounding like he knows.

Peter looks over to his tower of books, Robin still standing guard on top, sword up. Tim looks over too, smiles, says, “Yeah, I figured.”

Before anybody could say anything else, Peter slams both hands on the table, making all of his figures wobble from the impact. “Tablet now?” Peter asks, eyes bouncing between Jason and the tablet resting on the top of the cabinets. There’s a loud sigh that comes from the man, before he stands and heads for the tablet. Peter sticks his hands out making grabby motions that Jason rolls his eyes at, but he still hands over the tablet. Peter scoops up his figures, leaving Batman behind, and runs over to his Robin and books. He settles in on the floor, back against the wall and body facing Jason and Tim, opening the ROBIN folder. 

“Should we just throw the Batman toy away, then?” Jason asks, obviously teasing.

Peter makes an affronted sound, setting everything down and running full speed to grab the Batman he left behind. He glares at Jason, “I said he’s boring, not that I didn’t want him!”

“How are you so fucking fast?” Tim says, more to himself than anybody else, but Jason still answers, “Haven’t you ever seen spiders skitter around before? Kid just skittered his ass over here.”

Peter sticks his tongue out at them before returning back to his items. He sets up all the figures, but does push Batman a bit further away from the others. He’s Team Jason, after all. He taps on the first video, and is literally awed watching Robin swing from a line - is that a grappling hook?! - from one building to another. He lands easily on his feet, turns his head as if listening, and then whips it around to stare directly into the camera of whoever is recording. There’s a little gasp as the person is caught, but then Robin is running, disappearing from view. 

“He’s so fucking cool,” Peter whispers, tapping on the next video.

This one’s shaky, like the person is running along with Robin, or… Well, now that Peter’s looking, he thinks this person may be running away from Robin. As the camera moves rapidly, Peter can see a person, green boots lighting up every now and again in the randomly working streetlights, jumping from roof to roof, never slowing down. The person stops moving, heaving breaths coming through the speakers, and then-

Robin just drops from the sky, right in front of the guy, and there’s an “Oh fuck!” before Robin pulls his sword from his back. The video stops after that.

“Does Robin kill people?” Peter asks, looking up at Tim and Jason, who have moved to sit on the couch in front of him. 

Jason’s scrolling on his phone, and doesn’t look up at Peter’s question, but Tim, on his laptop, does. He seems to be thinking of an answer, and Peter gets the feeling he’s trying to think of what to say, and how to say it. “He… Doesn’t.”

Peter raises an eyebrow, “The anymore was pretty heavily implied there, rich boy.”

Jason snorted, slapping Tim on the back, still looking at his phone. “I guess rich boy is better than burger boy, huh, Replacement?”

Tim stares off into the distance, likely wanting to be anywhere but there, before saying, “Before Robin became Robin, yeah, he killed people. But it wasn’t really something he chose to do. He doesn’t kill people now.”

“Though he certainly tries to,” Jason mumbles, tapping off a message to someone. 

Peter decides not to touch that remark with a ten foot pole, and clicks on the next video.

This one starts with Batman and Robin, standing on the edge of a building. Peter can’t make out anything of Batman, can just see a slightly lighter shade of dark standing next to Robin. They stand as still as statues, until something changes. Batman must hear something, or someone, Peter thinks. Maybe Oracle? She is their person behind the scenes, according to Jason. Batman’s head, what he thinks is the guy’s head anyway, tilts slightly, and then his arm lifts and shoots something out. The line snags, and Batman leaps off the building. 

Robin waits a moment before, staring at something, before his own head tilts. Oracle, or maybe Batman, speaks to him on his comms, and Robin copies the exact movements that Batman did. 

Peter wonders if Red Hood has a grapple gun like these two obviously have. If he can’t remake his webshooters, maybe he could get a grapple gun? He does miss swinging around. 

“Is Batman meta?” Peter asks, tapping the fourth video.

“No, he’s just annoying as fuck,” Jason answers.

Tim sighs, shoving Jason. The man doesn’t even move, which makes Tim frown. “He’s not a meta, no. None of us are, except Signal.”

“What’s Signal do?”

There’s silence.

Silence for so long that Peter looks up to see both men just kind of staring at each other. They’re not sharing one of their looks, though, so Peter doesn’t wig out at the sight.

Finally, Jason says, “He can tell you when you meet at the manor tomorrow.”

Suddenly Peter is entirely uninterested in the videos. He locks the tablet, sliding it off his lap and shuffling a bit closer to the couch. “He’ll be there tomorrow?”

Jason nods, setting his phone down so his focus is on Peter only.

“Why? Wait a minute… If you’re brothers,” Peter says, pointing at the two of them, “And Dick is also your brother, is Signal your brother too?”

“Eh, it gets pretty muddled the more you try to explain. Who told you we were brothers?” Tim asks, gesturing to him and Jason.

“Jason said you were his brother.”

Tim gets an absolute gleeful look on his face, turning to Jason immediately, who throws his head back on the couch and says, “Thanks, kid.” Peter is confused for just a minute, before Tim grabs onto Jason’s arm and starts basically vibrating. “You called me your brother!” Tim shouts, smile way too fucking wide.

Peter watches in horror, says, “Man, I’m sorry,” and shoves himself back into the wall. 

Jason winks at him, but then glares at Tim, “Let me go or I’m going to cut your arm off.”

Tim doesn’t let go, just continues smiling, “Aw, what a big brother thing to say!”

Jason moved pretty fast after that, yanking his arm up toward his face, which brought Tim’s hands closer to him. Jason leaned down and licked Tim’s hands. Peter wanted to gag at the sight, and Tim echoed those emotions. Quickly, the man dropped his hands and jumped up from the couch. “You’re so gross, Jay!” He stomped off to the bathroom, and Peter listened as he turned the water on.

“Do you not call him your brother a lot?” Peter questioned.

Jason still had a self satisfied smirk on his face as he answered, “We had a rough start, in the beginning.”

Peter didn’t want to question anymore, so he didn’t. When Tim returned, he kept his arms firmly by his side, glaring at Jason as he walked back to the couch. 

“Anyway, Peter, yeah, Signal’s our brother. But none of us are really blood related. Bruce just has a…” Tim trailed off, tapping at his chin as he thought.

“Kidnapping problem?” Peter offered.

Jason laughed, leaning over the coffee table to high five Peter. Tim ignored them, “If he sees a kid that he feels like he can help, even if it’s only with one problem, then Bruce kinda just… Inserts himself into the kid’s life.”

Peter looks at Jason and says, “Rich people things,” Which makes Jason give him another high five again. Tim continues to ignore them, turning back to his laptop as he types at a rapid pace. Peter watches for a moment, entranced, thinking Ned would definitely be impressed with how fast Tim’s going. 

“So,” Peter says, drawing out the ‘o’, “How is Spoiler and Batgirl related to you guys? And Babs?”

Tim keeps typing, but does answer, “Spoiler’s basically our sister, but like me and Signal, she has living family outside of Bruce. Batgirl is… Something else entirely. She’s a ward of Bruce’s, though, so I suppose by technicality, she’s more in the family than I am. Babs was actually Batgirl first, but after the accident she became Oracle.”

Peter suddenly understands what Tim meant by it gets more muddled the more he explains. Accident? Peter hadn’t noticed anything about Babs that he thought would be detrimental enough to give up being Batgirl. She even pinged on his spidey sense! He thought it might be rude to ask about her accident, and they probably wouldn’t answer, like they did with Signal. 

“So Batgirl became Batgirl after Babs became Oracle?”

A single nod was all Peter received from Tim, and Jason was back on his phone. “And you’re all one big, fucked up family?”

That got Jason’s attention, who offered him a wry grin, “Now you’re getting it, Pete!”

Tim kept typing and typing, and Peter decided he’d rather read than just keep asking questions the two were going to halfway answer. Or answer in a way that made him want to ask more questions. He picked up his tourism book, and started flicking through the pages. He stopped on a page going over the Wayne Botanical Garden, touting all about the four garden walks the place features. One for each season, the most popular garden walk happens in the winter. A must see sight, if this author does say so himself. 

“Can we go to the Botanical Garden?” Peter asks, flipping to the next page. 

Jason grunts, “Have to double check if Ivy’s watching it or not.”

“I don’t know what the fuck that means,” Peter says, finding a page about the Saul Erdel Planetarium. 

It sounds wicked as hell, in Peter’s humble opinion. The planetarium, named after Saul Erdel- whoa, no way! The Saul Erdel Planetarium is named after Saul Erdel?! Crazy! -a scientist who focuses his studies on Mars and the mysteries of the cosmos. There are rumors afoot that this mysterious astronomist found Martian technology and hid it inside the planetarium. 

“It means,” Jason says, sitting up and cracking his neck, “That the place is a shithole if Ivy isn’t taking care of it. If she is, yeah, we’ll go check it out. She’s cool with Red Hood and kids, so we should be fine.”

Huh? 

“Is Ivy not a good person or something?”

Jason shrugged, standing up, “What’s your idea of a good person?”

Well… Peter doesn’t have a concrete answer for that question. He opens his mouth, closes it, and then says, “I guess somebody that takes care of a garden, and doesn’t hurt kids.”

Jason smiles down at him, ruffles his hair, and heads into the bedroom. 

“What about the planetarium? Can we go there?” 

Tim answers, “Fuck no.”

And alright, a little quick on the rejection. Peter frowns, “How come? It sounds cool. I love space!”

A chill runs down his back. His sense feels like it’s screaming, but it’s muffled. Code… What fucking code is it at right now? 

“The planetarium’s shit,” Jason says, walking back into the room with a bag and his armor on, “It’s been abandoned for over ten years. The Freaks took that place over years ago, even the police don’t bother with it anymore.”

The Freaks. 

Peter so badly wants to ask who they are, but Tim interrupts him, “Why are you suited up?”

Jason dabs some glue onto his cowl, carefully laying it over his face. He grins, looking feral, at Tim, “You can hang with Peter for a few hours, right? I need to go check on the alley kids and the rest.”

The alley kids. 

Red Hood kept spare clothes on his bike for those alley kids. He must check in on them frequently, but since Peter’s been here he hasn’t gone out at all. Sure, it’s only been two days, but Peter knows two days can feel like forever on the streets. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Peter states, “I can stay here alone!”

It was at that moment Peter heard three gunshots in quick succession, bang!bang!bang! as if laughing at Peter. He flinched, and Jason narrowed his eyes. “I may not have your super hearing, but even I know little kiddies shouldn’t stay alone in Gotham. I’ll only be gone a few hours. Like I said, just need to check up on some people, make sure everything’s good.”

“Is anything ever good in this place?” Tim asks, closing his laptop and finally giving Jason his attention.

“Well, it’ll be less good if I’m MIA any longer than I have been.”

The two have a stare off, and Peter rolls his eyes, eternally thankful he doesn’t have any siblings. “Just go! Good fucking god, you two spend more time staring at each other than actually talking!”

Jason’s lips threaten to upturn, “You’re good with Timmy?”

Peter glares, “Is Tim good with me?”

Jason and Peter turn to look at Tim, whose eyes bounce between the two rapidly, settling on Peter, “I think we’ll be okay for a few hours.”

“Alright, thanks. Spider’s bedtime is nine, and that’s a firm bedtime. I’ll be back by midnight at the latest.” With that, Jason pulls up his hood, effectively hiding his face, throws his bag over his shoulder and stalks out the door. Peter blows a raspberry at him as he goes. 

“My bedtime is totally not nine, by the way.”

Tim sighs, whispers, “I knew this was a bad fucking idea,” and then louder says, “Sorry, Peter. Jason’s apartment, Jason’s rules.”

Peter moves to a crouch, pressing his hands into the floor below him. He could totally use the force from pushing himself off the floor to jump over the coffee table, easily landing on Tim. The thought makes him smile, big and wide, showing off his teeth. Tim eyes him, eyebrows pulled together, “Please don’t attack me.”

Peter grins wider. 

“Okay, bedtime’s ten! How about that?”

He leans forward, balancing on his toes and fingertips, and bounces just a little, testing himself. Tim scrambles a little, “Ten thirty! Okay? Ten thirty, but that’s the latest I’ll go! Jason’ll kill me if ya stay up all night!”

Peter laughs, tilting his head sideways, probably a little too much if Tim’s face is anything to go by, “Who are you more afraid of, me or Jason?”

“I am so fucked,” Tim says to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Eleven is my last fucking offer, Peter!”

Peter lets himself fall on his ass, picking up his tourist book and crawling back over to his spot on the wall. “Thanks, Tim!”

Tim throws himself face down on the couch, burrowing his face down into the cushions and starts screaming. Peter ignores him, reading about Arkham Asylum and wondering why the fuck it’s on this author’s top five places to visit in Gotham? Peter doubts Jason would take him to see an asylum, no matter if the Wayne’s renovated the century’s old building into a state of the art mental health facility to help the city’s least fortunate. 

Tim continues screaming, and Peter keeps reading.

Peter doesn’t remember falling asleep. 

The last thing he remembers is switching to The Complete and Total History of the Justice League, reading about Superman’s known list of powers (and can the guy save some for the rest of us? God, Peter remembers thinking, this guy won the super powered lottery!), and then… He fell asleep?

He’s waking up now, in bed. Looking up he sees a faint bat outline drifting around the ceiling. Peter stretches, hands going up under the pillows, hitting something hard and pokey. Pulling at it, Peter finds his Robin. He blinks a few times, sitting up in bed and looking around. He’s in his clothes from last night, so at least nobody changed him before putting him to bed. God, Peter’s really taking this act like a ten-year-old thing to heart, huh?

He hears clattering, but only one heartbeat. Calm and steady. Jason’s humming some song Peter doesn’t recognize. There’s sounds of frying and pans being set down. Plates being pulled out of the cabinets. Peter swings his legs over the bed, Robin firmly in hand, and heads out of the room. 

Jason doesn’t even turn, just says, “Morning, sleeping beauty.”

Peter ignores that, going to sit at his chair, rubbing at his eyes. 

“Who put me in bed?” He asks, looking around the living room from where he’s at. 

His books are lying out like he remembers last night. All that was moved was him and Robin. Even his Justice League book was open to the page he last remembers reading. 

“Tim said you fell asleep about an hour after I left. He tried to wake you, but said you were totally gone, so he just carried you to bed. That alright?”

He sounded genuinely curious if that was alright with Peter. His body was half turned, looking at him out of the corner of his eye, eyebrows raised. Peter nodded, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. All that drama with Tim just to fall asleep like a baby. What a loser, Peter thinks, rolling his eyes at himself. 

Jason sets a plate in front of him, an omelet with q’tasba melons on the side, and a muffin. Peter looks up at him. “Where’d this other stuff come from? Is that spinach in the omelet?”

Sitting down, Jason smiles, looking way too proud of himself, “Timmy brought it over, remember? Spinach is good for you, Pete, make ya strong like Popeye.”

He tilts his head to the side, “Who the fuck is Popeye?”

Jason’s hand pauses on the way to his mouth and he eyes Peter like he’s the crazy one, “There’s no fucking way you don’t know who Popeye is.”

“Sound made up.”

Jason huffs, “He’s not! He’s fucking real!”

“Yeah, sure, I totally believe you.”

“He is!” Jason slams his hand on the table, rattling the forks. 

“Then what’s he look like?”

Jason scrambles for his phone, looking up this Popeye guy, and shoving it into Peter’s face. He blinks a few times, and then starts laughing. “Dude! That’s a cartoon character!”

“Yeah, so?”

Peter keeps laughing. “I thought you said he was real! Cartoons aren’t real, dumbass.”

Jason glares at him, and then scoops his melon off his plate. Peter gasps, “Give that back!”

“Nah, ‘m good.”

“Are you really doing this because I said cartoons aren’t real? You’re so fucking immature.”

Jason’s mouth drops open, “I’m immature? Kid, you’ve attacked me multiple times for the most stupid shit. One of those being because I took a picture of you!”

Peter mulls that over, “That may be true, but I didn’t steal food from an actual child all because said child doesn’t think cartoons are real.”

Jason slowly puts the melons back on his plate, “Fair assessment.”

They eat the remainder of their breakfast in silence. 

Peter finishes brushing his teeth, staring at the newly installed mirror. He leans in close, looking hard at himself. 

Were his newly green eyes always Shrek green? He thinks, tilting his head this way and that. His white streak sticks out so bad. He tries to style his hair with a little water, hoping to bury it back in his other locks, but it never works. Peter doesn’t try pulling it out this time, so he thinks that’s a win. 

“My turn, kid,” Jason says, coming to stand in the doorway. 

He barely fits, shoulders taking up the entire space. He leans into the wall, looking at himself in the mirror before meeting Peter’s eyes in the reflection. 

Your mini me, Tim had said, a few days ago. 

He and Peter do look alike. Eerily so. The only thing throwing it all off is that Peter’s hair is just a few shades lighter than Jason’s. 

Samesamesame, something hums inside him.

Peter moves out of the way, letting Jason in to brush his teeth. He heads to the bedroom, picking through his pile of clothes that Jason actually did wash. Peter grabs a pair of jeans, finding the little stretchy tab and having to cinch it up so the pants actually fit. He ignored how much he hated that, and went about picking a shirt. 

Peter read enough of his Justice League book to know what Martian Manhunter looks like. He picks up a green shirt that proudly shows off the guy, standing with his hands on his hips, chest out. Very superhero-esque. The words on the shirt say: GOOD TO BE GREEN. Peter thinks it’s actually hilarious, and puts it on. 

Jason comes in then, hair a little wet, and Peter wonders if he did what Peter tried to do and hide his white streak. He looks down at the shirt Peter has on, and shakes his head. “God, Tim has the worst taste in clothes.”

He grabs a plain tshirt, throws the same leather jacket on as yesterday, and starts putting on his shoes. Peter forgoes the light up shoes he wore to the library and Bat Burger, grabbing the new pair Tim had bought him. He knows now they’re Superman styled, with the classic S on the tongues of the shoe, and the blue and red coloring. 

Peter looks at the soles, noticing a little clear rubber section on each shoe, and he has a very distinct sinking feeling. 

As a test, he stomps his foot, just one time, and watches the stupid fucking piece of shit show light up like a goddamn glow party.

Jason snorts, “Cute shoes, kiddie,” and Peter really should stop attacking people but he just can’t.

He lunges at the brick wall that is Jason, taking them both to the floor. Jason grunts at the impact, falling flat on his back. He starts trying to push Peter off of him, and Peter, without really thinking about it (when does he ever think?) bites at his hands. Jason yelps, attempting to pull his left hand away from Peter but Peter just bites down harder.

“Okay, ya little shit, let go! Sorry about the shoes comment!”

Peter blinks, practically spits Jason’s hand out, and crawls off of him. He ignores how his shoes light up every time his feet make impact with the floor, and stands up straight. “I want new shoes,” He demands, hearing Aunt May’s dramatic gasp at him demanding something like that from someone. But he doesn’t feel bad. Because he knows Jason will just have Tim buy it, and Tim said it himself: he’s rich. He can buy Peter new shoes.

New, non-light up shoes. 

Jason stands up, wiping his slobbery hand off on his jeans. “Sure, whatever the fuck ya want, baby spider, ya just gotta stop biting people. Bruce’ll make me keep ya muzzled.”

Peter freezes at that, staring up at Jason with wide eyes. 

Muzzled?

Do they do that to metas here?

He whines, high in his throat, reaching for his Robin, and Jason swears. “Fuck, Peter, I’m kidding! I’m joking, I promise! Nobody’s going to muzzle you!”

Jason looks sick as he stumbles to reassure Peter he’s not going to be muzzled. He lays his big hands on Peter’s shoulders, and Peter hates how far he has to look up to make eye contact. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t a nice joke. Especially since you told me how metas are treated in your universe.”

He seems so sincere, and Peter just nods, unsure what to say. Jason frowns, more at himself than Peter, “Nobody’s going to do anything to you, but you actually do have to stop biting people. You never know what the other person could have, ya know? You don’t want someone else’s germs like that, Pete.”

Okay, valid. 

Peter nods again. 

“No more mean jokes, promise.” Jason lifts one hand from Peter’s shoulders, moving to make an X over his heart. 

Ugh, he’s making an effort, Peter thinks, the least he can do is meet him halfway. “I’m sorry for biting. I just… Don’t like being treated like a little kid.”

He hates how he sounds like a little kid complaining about being treated like a little kid. Why’d he sound so whiny? Jason smiles down at him, ruffles his hair, “I get it, swear. We’ll get you new shoes on the way to the manor, yeah?”

Peter forgot about the manor. How could he forget about the manor? That was the whole reason why they were getting dressed right now! 

“Who all is going to be there?”

“All of us. It’s Sunday, and Sundays mean family day.”

Family day?! What the fuck?

“I can’t go to family day!” Peter yells, batting Jason’s hand off of him, “I’m not family, dumbass!”

Jason looks at him so soft that Peter wants to bite him again, but he holds himself back. Jason should be very, very fucking thankful.

“Yeah, well, I don’t really feel like family a lot of the time, either, so. If I have to go, you’re going with me. Like an emotional support spider.”

Peter’s whole face contorts in disgust, “I’m not your goddam therapy dog!”

“That’s why I said spider!” Jason says happily.

Peter and Jason have a glare off, which Peter totally wins because Jason blinks, before Jason says, “Besides, Dick’s telling Bruce about you, remember? He’s going to have a lot of questions, and he’s going to want to meet you. Easier to kill two bats with one spider.”

“Please stop inserting spiders into everything. You’re belittling my condition.”

Jason snorts, rolling his eyes as he walks out of the bedroom. Peter follows, ignoring his shoes, and watches Jason start packing a backpack. Wait a minute…

“Hey, that’s mine!” 

Jason stops, gives him an “Are you stupid?” look, and continues packing it. He puts the Captain Marvel book inside it, his Robin, and his tablet. Setting it on the couch, Jason goes back into the bedroom and returns a second later, hoodie in hand. He shoves that inside the bag, zips it up, and hands it to Peter. Without really thinking about it, Peter puts it on his back, staring up at Jason.

“Am I being, like, kicked out?”

Jason freezes, hand reaching up to grab his phone from the counter. He looks like Peter dumped ice cold water over him. His hand falls back to his side as he turns to look at Peter. And he must truly be a sight. Stupid light up shoes, Martian Manhunter shirt, cinched up jeans, and wearing his dumb Batman backpack. 

Peter, once again, finds Jason’s hands on his shoulders. 

“Pete, I’m not kicking you out. Remember what I told Dick? The only way we’re telling the old man about you is if you get to stay with me. We’re taking your things because you might need them, yeah? I figured with your obvious disdain for our Captain Marvel you’d be alright with returning that book to the library, and we’re gonna head right past it on our way to the manor so I thought we’d drop it off. And you might want your tablet and Robin at some point while we’re gone.”

Peter looks down at his feet, feeling about two inches tall, shuffling his feet. “What about the hoodie?” He asks quietly. 

“This is Gotham, kid. Sure, it’s August, but August in Gotham is basically already winter.”

“Coulda told me,” Peter mutters, finally looking up at Jason.

He smiles, all boyish charm, showing a fucking dimple?! Has Jason always had a dimple?

“Yeah, guess I coulda. Oh well. I’ll put it in the bank for next time!”

Jason goes back to grab his phone, and gestures for Peter to follow. They head out the door, down the stairs, and stop at Jason’s bike. They didn’t take it last time they went out, since Jason said everything was near enough to walk it. Peter figured “the manor” wasn’t going to be close enough to walk. 

Jason manhandles Peter around, forcing him to look up at the guy, “Want your hoodie on before we take off? If not, you can wear one of my jackets.”

He walks over to a cabinet against the wall, pulling out a jacket similar to his. It’s thick, thicker than Peter’s hoodie would be, and he bets it smells like gunpowder and gasoline. Peter doesn’t hesitate before yanking it out of Jason’s hands. “This, I want this jacket.”

He drops his backpack, pulling the jacket on and smiling up at Jason. There’s a moment where Jason just looks at him, and not one of those “Peter’s doing Peter things, again” looks. But a look Peter distinctly remembers his dad giving him when he walked in and found Peter dressing up in his work clothes. It was right before he died, Peter thinks. He put on his dad’s lab coat, and smiled like a doofus when his dad walked in. And his dad… Looked at him the same way Jason’s looking at him. 

Jason shakes his head, the look thankfully disappearing off his face, before he heads for the bike. 

They situate themselves on the bike. This time, Peter sits behind Jason, arms wrapping around him. Peter also has to wear a helmet, which he grumbles about. “Didn’t have to last time.”

“Last time you were fresh out of the pits and I was just trying to get us both the fuck outta there. This time you’re wearing a helmet.”

The garage door opens, they back out, and it slams shut again. Peter already tightened his backpack straps before taking off, which he’s thankful for as Jason flies down the road. Peter burrows into his borrowed jacket, and watches Gotham fly by. His sense barely has time to blip at him as they speed past alleys and abandoned-looking buildings. 

Chapter Text

Babs is at the library when they stop. Peter glares at his shoes as they make their way up the steps, each stomp of his foot making his shoes look like a fucking police cruiser. He would take them off and throw them, but he’s also a native New Yorker, and that means no matter how much you hate your shoes, they stay firmly on your feet when out and about in a city. 

Not even socks are enough protection for some places.

Gotham is one of those places. 

“Hi, Peter! How are you doing today, kiddo?” Babs greets, smiling down at him from where she sits at the counter. 

He grins up at her, placing his hands on the desk to stand on his toes so he can see over it a little better. “I’m good, Babs. I’m returning one of my library books.”

“Yeah, hello to you, by the way. I’m here too!” Jason says, unzipping Peter’s bag to yank the book out. 

Babs rolls her eyes, taking the book from Jason, but still talking to Peter, “Did you want another book? I actually pulled one you might like! It’s all about the history of Gotham! It has a whole section dedicated to her many vigilantes.”

Peter nods his head eagerly, holding a hand out for the book. Babs hands it over, and he inspects the cover. It’s black all over, but he can see a cityscape embossed on the front. In the sky shines a singular light, the only cover on the entire thing. It looks just like Peter’s nightlight. He angles it to show Jason, “What’s with the bat symbol? Is it Batman’s way of laying claim to the place?”

He thinks of Daredevil and how fucking territorial the guy was over Hell’s Kitchen. He was pretty anal about Queens, but not to the point of shining a spidey in the sky. Though… It would be pretty cool.

“It’s how people signal they need help from Batman,” Jason explains.

Hm. That sounds pretty neat, Peter thinks. 

If somebody doesn’t have a spidey sense, or enhanced senses like Daredevil, the signal would be crazy useful to know where to go. 

Peter twists in a really weird way to put the book in his bag. When he rights himself, Jason and Babs look a little sick, and Peter thinks he might’ve twisted too far. Oh well. 

“Coming to family day?” Jason asks, leaning against the counter.

“I might be a little late, but I’ll be there. You and Peter will be in attendance, right?”

Jason nods, looking around the library. There’s only a few people milling around, some kids on the computers, but otherwise it’s pretty dead in the building. Peter reasons it’s because it’s Sunday, but he also doesn’t remember a lot of people being here when they came a few days ago. 

“How d’ya think the little brat will react to Pete?”

Who’s the brat? If Peter’s name hadn’t been dropped in the sentence he would’ve figured he was the brat. After all, he has been biting Jason a lot. It’d be fair to call him a brat. He would probably bite Jason for doing it, but yeah, it’d be fair.  

Babs smile, a real big smile, “I think they’re going to get along great!”

Jason offers her a disbelieving look. 

“I’m being serious, Jay! Damian’s going to like being the older one, especially since Peter likes him so much already.”

Huh?

“I like Damian?” Peter questioned, looking over at Jason. 

Babs also sends a questioning look before it turns disappointing, “Oh my god, Jason, you haven’t told him who Damian is?”

Wait.

Peter forgot this was a family of vigilantes. 

Everybody was somebody.

Oh god, Peter think, who could Damian be? Signal, Robin, Spoiler, and Batgirl. Those are the four Peter hasn’t met yet. Spoiler and Batgirl are women, Peter knows that much. Signal and Robin, then. But Signal’s a meta, they told him that! Is Damian meta? 

No, hold on, think differently, Peter! 

Peter likes him so much. 

Suddenly his Robin figure in his backpack feels like it weighs a million pounds. There’s no fucking way this Damian kid is Robin. The same Damian Dick had said would try to kill Peter if they just walked into the manor?! No way, nuh huh, Peter refuses to accept this information. 

Oh fuck.

The monogrammed D pyjamas Peter wore…

“Did I wear Rob- Damian’s pyjamas?!” Peter basically shrieks, nearly screaming about wearing Robin’s pyjamas before his brain remembered where the fuck they were. 

Jason and Babs startle at his outburst, before Jason sighs, “Peter, is that really what you’re focused on right now?”

Peter keeps freaking, “Oh my god, you’re gonna make me meet the kid whose pyjamas I wore. That’s so weird, man, all I’m gonna be thinking about is that I wore his pyjamas!”

Babs is laughing at him, Peter realizes, which does nothing to help his freak out. Look at yourself, Peter! You’re making this amazing woman laugh at you! Get a hold of yourself!

Jason shakes Peter, violently, “Calm the hell down, kid, it’s fucking pyjamas.”

He sounds exasperated, but also amused. Tony always found Peter’s freak outs a little amusing too. Mostly because his freak outs tended to be about stuff like wearing another kid’s pyjamas. Something so inconsequential it didn’t even really matter. But it mattered to Peter!

They weren’t just pyjamas of some kid he was going to meet. They were Robin’s fucking pyjamas. Robin’s! What part of that is Jason not getting?

“Peter, those pyjamas are probably too small for Damian anyways,” Jason made a cutting motion at Babs, eyes wide, but she kept going, “He is not going to mind that you wore them for a few days.”

She meant to placate Peter, but suddenly all he could focus on was too small for Damian. Too small for Damian. Too small for Robin.

Small.

Peter wore pyjamas that were too small for some other kid. He wore pyjamas that somebody had outgrown. 

Oh my fucking god.

First he had to cinch up his stupid jeans, and now he’s being told the pyjamas he wore (Robin’s pyjamas) were basically hand-me-downs?!

He felt those big hands on him again, and dammit, how many times is Jason going to grab him today? Suddenly he’s being hauled off to another room, still in the library. Babs yells out, “Sorry!” but she doesn’t sound very sorry. A door opens, and closes, and by the time Peter thinks he should probably try to focus on his surroundings, he’s being shoved into a pretty comfy chair. When he comes back, he’s in an office. Maybe Babs’s? It’s warm, and the lights are dimmed. It’s also small. Peter feels his more spider-y side preen, feeling safe in the room. 

Jason kneels in front of him, eyebrow raised, an unimpressed look on his face. “Ya good?”

Peter takes a few deep breaths, “Um. So that was a bit dramatic.”

Jason falls apart laughing then, eyes crinkling at the corners, shoulders still moving up and down from the force of his laugh. “Ya think, kid? Hot damn, I thought you were going to blackout back there.”

A blush rushes to the surface of Peter’s face, and he looks down at his lap, twirling his fingers around each other. He feels a little silly, this much he’ll admit. What was he freaking out about again? Wearing Damian’s slash Robin’s pyjamas? Being told they were too small for him? Jason probably thinks he’s crazy. 

Shit, maybe he is.

He has no memories of how he ended up in a whole ass different universe, and now he’s playing house with an already (very obviously) dysfunctional family of vigilantes. Yeah, he’s gone bonkers. Off the rails. Pack his ass up and send him to Arkham Asylum, it’s apparently a top five Gotham landmark.

Peter has no idea what to say to Jason in this moment. The longer they sit here, and the chiller he gets, the more stupid he feels. God, he’s so embarrassed. 

Jason lays his hands over Peter’s twisting fingers, ceasing their movements, and says, “Kid, you’re good. I mean, I already knew you had a hang up about your age. I should’ve warned Babs beforehand.”

Hang up about your age, god, if only Jason knew.

Knew that Peter was a fucking teenager trapped in this tiny ass body. 

He could tell him, Peter thinks. He looks into Jason’s green fucking eyes, and that thought cycles around and around. Tell him, tell him, tell him. But… But Peter doesn’t think he would survive telling Jason he's sixteen but he’s been happily acting like a ten-year-old.

Okay, maybe not happily.

But he has been pretending!

Even if it hasn’t felt like pretending. 

Which is weird, right? Peter should totally not be chill about doing any of the things he’s doing. Why are the only things he’s not cool about are light up shoes, and being called a kid? He’s totally fine with a nightlight. With sleeping with a fucking toy every night. With Jason watering down his juice. What’s wrong with him?

“Just so you know, kid…” Jason says carefully, “The others at the manor are going to treat you like your age, and you can’t freak out on them every time. You especially can’t bite them.”

The last part is said in jest, but Peter sees the seriousness in Jason’s eyes. “I’m not going to bite them!”

A singular eyebrow is all Jason offers in reply, and Peter sighs as he realizes he totally might’ve bit them. “I’m not- I’m actually…,” Peter wants to say it, just scream I’m sixteen! but he can’t. He feels like he might vomit if he tries any harder. What the fuck? Jason’s watching him, so patient, so soft.

“I don’t like being treated like a little kid,” He finally mutters, clasping his hands together where they rest underneath Jason’s ginormous ones. 

There’s a beat of silence before Jason’s hands move from Peter’s hands to his face, cupping his cheeks, “I get it, Peter. I hated being treated like a kid, too. But ya know what?”

He doesn’t actually expect Peter to answer, but he pauses anyway. “The older I get the more I wish I had let people treat me like a kid. The more I wish I had let myself be a kid. What’s the rush, anyway? You’ve got years to be an asshole adult, Peter, so enjoy being just an asshole kid.”

Go be a kid, Pete. The world’s gonna go to shit whether you patrol tonight or not.

Tony’d said that to him a few months ago when Peter kept telling Ned maybe later about going to the dollar cinema to watch Star Trek. Peter had told Tony the excuse he was a Star Wars fan first, and that’s why he didn’t want to go. But of course Tony saw right through that, and basically shut down Peter’s suit, telling Peter to go be a kid. 

It had, arguably, been a really fun night. 

Jason’s hands were warm on his face when Peter came back from the memory. “What if I’m not just a kid?” He said, voice low. 

The man’s eyebrows furrow, an eleven forming between his brows with how hard he was scrunching them. There’s a heavy moment of silence, and then Jason says, “What do you mean?”

It’s like word vomit, what falls out of his mouth then, “I’m Spider-Man.”

Jason blinks, once, twice, three times. No words come from the man, and Peter just tries to stay calm himself. No more freak outs. He knows that won’t hold, not for him, but he aims for no more freak outs for at least the next ten minutes.

Five minutes.

Okay, Peter’s just going to fucking try, alright?!

Jason’s hands drop from his face and Peter actually might cry at the loss of contact. “What do you mean you’re Spider-Man?”

He swallows, rough, and vaguely notices how fucking bright Jason’s eyes are. “I’m Spider-Man,” He repeats, knowing that’s not explaining anything, “I… Ya know I have powers. I can do amazing things. Crazy things. Things that can help other people.”

The more he talks the more Jason pulls away. First his hands fell from his face back to Peter’s hands, and now they’re pulling away from that. Soon, Jason is no longer touching Peter at all. 

Peter keeps talking, he has no idea why, “My Uncle Ben died, remember? Right in front of me. He got shot, Jason, and I had my powers then. I could’ve saved him! Should’ve saved him, but I didn’t. But I knew I could save others. Protect them! And I have,” He’s talking fast, breathing hard, his vision is tunneling but he keeps going, “I’ve saved lotsa people. Not enough, but I did save them. And I’ve stopped bad guys. I’m not- I know I’m not as helpful as the Avengers, or ya know, as you are, because I never even thought of carrying clothes to give to street kids; that’s so nice of you to do, Jason, and I really like that about you. So, I don’t help enough, that’s for sure, but I help a lot!”

Jason’s eyes have dimmed, and Peter wonders at that. He’s still staring hard at Peter but he’s gone from a gemstone green to a cool emerald. “I just wanna help people,” Peter whispers, taking a deep breath.

“That’s why you’re so… Calm, about us being vigilantes,” Is the first thing Jason says after many minutes of silence.

Peter’s face scrunches up, because what? He just tells the guy he’s Spider-Man, and that’s what he’s focusing on?

“I mean, yeah, I guess. I know lotsa vigilantes back home. They’re pretty cool. None of them are really like your family, though, ‘sides the Fantastic Four.”

Jason’s eyes have dropped away from Peter’s, looking down at his lap, “Goddammit, he’s gonna want to keep you.”

“Huh?”

Jason laughs a humorless laugh, shaking his head, showing off his white streak even more, “Doesn’t matter. Remember what I said? You’re with me until Constantine sends you home.”

He nods, twisting his fingers together as he waits for Jason to, well, react to everything else he said. 

“So, Spider-Man? I’m sure that gets ya a laugh back in your universe.”

Peter glares at the top of Jason’s head, “Shut up, I was planning for the future!” 

He’s mostly mad because even as a teenager he gets shit for his name. He understands that he’s not technically a man, but he wasn’t going to call himself fucking Spider-Boy! He planned on doing the whole spidey thing well into his adult years, so he planned for the future. He can’t even imagine being in his twenties and going by Spider-Boy. 

He’s startled when Jason’s hands grab his own, “You’re something else, Pete, ya know that?”

Peter doesn’t answer, flipping his hands quickly to grab onto Jason’s. He’s been fucking touch starved since he got to this universe. His hug from Jason just brought more attention to that fact. He used to always cuddle up with Aunt May on her days off, or share daily hugs with Ned. Shit, even MJ would walk close enough to him that their shoulders were touching. 

Point being, Peter loves touch. 

And Jason’s kind of opened the floodgates. 

“Can I have a hug?” Peter asks, almost laughing as Jason’s eyes widen at the question. 

Thankfully, Jason nods, and Peter throws himself at Jason’s chest. The man rocks back, but his arms quickly move around to hold onto Peter. Peter wraps his arms around Jason’s neck, tucking his face into his neck. Up close like this, with no Red Hood suit, Peter takes a moment to smell Jason. 

Okay, that sounds fucking creepy, but listen, okay just listen.

Peter remembers smells. 

Maybe because his normal senses are enhanced, or maybe Peter’ just always been a bit weird, but he remembers smells so intensely that he can close his eyes and remember how Tony smelt the first time they met.

Sweat, iron, and his fancy ass cologne. 

Ned smells like spam (Peter always steals Ned’s spam from his lunch), laundry detergent, and bread. 

Aunt May is vanilla, citrus, and usually burnt food. 

Jason is gunpowder, so that transcends the Red Hood suit. He also smells like apple, and Peter remembers seeing (and using) apple shampoo in Jason’s bathroom. And finally Peter smells metal. He wonders if that’s from the guns, his suit, or his motorcycle. Maybe all of the above. 

“Are you smelling me?” Jason asks, head squeezing Peter’s own head between Jason’s shoulder as he shies away from Peter’s nose.

“I know it’s weird, sorry,” Peter mumbles, pulling away but not stopping the hug. When he’s back far enough he sees Jason’s goofy looking smile. “Not weird. Or, okay, maybe it’s weird for others, but I’m used to weird shit so.”

“Are you going to tell the others that I’m Spider-Man?”

Peter can tell Jason is rolling the answer around in his head. He would make a joke about Jason thinking so hard Peter can see the smoke coming out of his ears, but he wisely stays quiet. He decides to just enjoy the hug while it lasts, knowing they’ll have to let each other and head out of the office. Knows they’ll have to get back on Jason’s bike and head to the manor. So he lets himself enjoy the moment.

“Do you wanna tell them?”

Hm. Good question. 

Does Peter want them to know he’s Spider-Man? He kind of does. Mostly because he wants to seem cool and capable in front of Robin slash Damian. He doesn’t want to go in there like a stupid little kid. He wants to go in there like Spider-Man. Spider-Man’s always been more confident than loser Peter Parker. He wants to meet Robin slash Damian like that. 

He shrugs, “I wouldn’t mind them knowing.”

Jason rolls his eyes, and stands up. Peter gasps as Jason keeps hold of him while he stands up. It’s kind of crazy to be picked up like this. He doesn’t really remember the last time he was small enough for somebody to just… Hold him. 

Wild.

Jason carefully puts him on his feet, cracks his own neck, and says, “Then let’s head to the manor. We’ll tell the peanut gallery about Spider-Man when it feels right, yeah?”

Good enough for him! 

“Let’s head out, then. We’ve got shoes to buy.”

He nods, and follows dutifully behind Jason as they make their way back to the front. Babs isn’t there, but Peter hears her heartbeat getting closer and closer. “Babs is on her way back,” Peter says to Jason, who stops at the desk. 

Jason gives him a lopsided smile, and soon enough, Babs’s heartbeat is basically right there, so Peter turns to greet her. He has to adjust himself, because he was preemptively looking up, but he found nothing there. Looking lower, he makes eye contact with Babs, who offers him the prettiest smile. 

Babs comes forward, rolling her wheelchair up the ramp that takes her up and behind the front desk. “All good, boys?”

Jason nods, knocking against the desk twice, “On our way to go shoe shopping now. See ya later, Babs.”

“Bye, Babs! Thank you for the book!” Peter says, waving at her as he follows Jason out. 

She waves back, heartbeat steady, and Peter focuses on it until the wind of being back on the motorcycle and the distance blocks it out entirely. 

They’ve been at the store for thirty minutes, and Peter can tell Jason is so tired. But Peter doesn’t like any of the shoes! It’s not his fault! Every time he thinks he’s found a decent pair, they light up! Or there was the yellow pair of shoes that… Peter wants to shudder thinking of it… Fucking squeaked every time he walked. What the fuck? Squeaky shoes on a toddler were cute as hell. Squeaky shoes on Peter? Not cute at all (despite what Jason says, the dick).

Imagine Spider-Man in squeaky shoes!

Banish the thought.

“Let’s just go, Jason, this is stupid,” Peter says, returning from putting back his most recent pair of shoes. 

Jason’s slouched in the chair, but he sits up when Peter returns. “No! We’ve been here too long to give up now!” He starts looking around frantically, as if shoes are just going to start magically appearing. And then he gets a twisted look on his face. 

“Okay, hear me out before you get pissed,” Jason starts, which does not bode well for Peter, “Let’s go try the girls section. We’ve exhausted all that’s here in the boys, but maybe the girls have some simple sneakers or something.”

Peter’s initial reaction would make MJ slap him. 

So he pauses, lets himself have a secondary reaction, and says, “Okay.”

Jason looks a little surprised, before smiling and heading off to the girls section. They start walking down the aisles, obviously skipping over the sparkly heels and glitter-y flats. They find the sneakers, and Peter starts picking them up and smacking them down to check if they light up or not. 

He comes to one, that’s a dark purple with black accents. There’s a tiny bat near the soles, and Peter’s fingers ghost over it. He picks them up and slams them down but they don’t light up. Jason’s already pulling out his size, and handing them to him. They walk over to a set of chairs, letting Peter try them on. 

“Stand up, lemme check if they fit,” Jason demands.

Peter finds himself listening, letting Jason push into the top of the shoe to see where his toes are. His mom used to check his shoes like this, and then Aunt May. Now he mentally adds Jason to the list of people to check if his shoes fit. 

“They seem alright. Feel good? Take a lap.”

Peter sighs, doing as told, and when he returns, he says, “I like them.”

Which is apparently enough for Jason because he shoves Peter’s old shoes into the box, and they head up front to pay for them. Peter keeps looking at his shoes, wondering why they had the little bat on them. Are they Batman endorsed, or something? Tony did that once. In the early days of Iron Man he went around endorsing random shit as Iron Man. People started putting little Iron Man logos on stuff if it was endorsed by him.

Peter fell for it quite a lot, buying anything that had the logo on it. 

They head back out to the bike, and Jason tosses the shoe box in the trash, stuffing Peter’s shoes into the storage bag attached to the sides of the bike. They get back on, but before Jason goes, he turns to look at Peter on the back of the bike.

“Ready to meet the family?”

Peter is most certainly not, but at least he doesn’t have to meet them wearing light up sneakers, so he gives Jason the best smile he can, and nods. Jason looks relieved, and turns around to start the bike. Peter’s arms go around the man, and he lays his head against his back. He catalogues Jason’s smells: gunpowder, apple, metal. It comforts him to a crazy extent, and Peter feels his eyes closing. 

Before he can fully go out, he sticks himself to Jason’s leather jacket, from his fingertips to his wrists, and then…

Peter wakes up to his helmet being off, and voices around him.

He feels and hears Jason talking, ear firmly pressed to Jason’s back, arms stuck to him. The man’s heart is a steady drum to Peter’s ears, and if he focuses enough, he can imagine the blood running through Jason’s veins, the veins that sit right below his fingertips.

But… That’d be weird as hell, so Peter doesn’t do that. He doesn’t! Promise.

Okay, well, he stops doing it once he realizes how fucking loopy that is.

That’s got to count for something, yeah?

“Not fair, Jay! I should’ve had babysitting duties first! I’m the oldest,” Dick says, heartbeat humming as always. Peter imagines he’s throwing his arms around as he talks.

Jason grunts, vibrating Peter’s hands, “Age had nothing to do with it, Dickie. It was really about convenience. Tim was there, so Tim babysat.” He shrugs as he finishes, moving Peter’s cheek where it’s basically stuck to his jacket. 

“Besides I was the first one to find out about Peter. It’s only fair that I got first shift watching him,” Tim says, sounding too smug. Peter almost wants to give away the fact that he’s awake, tell Dick how he scared Tim into giving him a later bedtime, but he keeps his eyes closed.

He’s rather enjoying the moment, honestly. 

Peter never knew a nap on the back of a motorcycle would be so nice, but it was. And now, waking up to two idiot vigilantes arguing over babysitting him, he feels weirdly comforted. 

“Actually, Babs knew about him first, but yeah, Tim knew before you, Dick.”

There’s a huff from Dick, and Peter can almost see him blowing his hair out of his face. “It still isn’t fair! I get to babysit next time! Maybe he can come to mine in Bludhaven?” The amount of hope at the end of that question makes Peter want to puke.

Jason’s silent for a minute, “Guess we’ll have to ask Peter what he thinks.” His elbow leans back a little, nudging Peter.

Cover: Blown.

“Aw, I don’t wanna wake him up, though! He’s so cute when he’s not hissing,” Dick practically coos.

It makes Peter open his eyes and hiss at the man, causing Dick to fall backwards, knocking into Tim. He’s satisfied with the reaction, the more spider-y part of him preening at the bigger man being scared of him. Jason snorts a laugh, turning to look at him from the corner of his eye. Peter smiles at him, showing too many teeth.

“How fucking long have you been awake?” Tim demands, shoving Dick off of him.

Peter shrugs, “Since you two dummies started arguing over who got to hang out with me.”

Jason’s eyebrows raise, “Uh huh, kiddo, I believe they were arguing over who got to babysit you.”

Yeah, Peter’s going to kill him. He opens his mouth, fully intending on biting him, when Jason gives him a look. “What’d we talk about?”

Peter slowly closes his mouth, grinding his teeth together. He swallows, hard, something nasty going down with it. Ew, what the fuck was that? He definitely brushed his teeth this morning, so he knows it wasn’t like nasty morning breath mixed with his drool. It tasted… Bitter. 

“I wasn’t going to bite you,” Peter says, fully lying. 

Jason gives him a deadpan stare, totally not buying it, “Yeah, and I haven’t died before. Are we done telling lies, now?”

Jason’s words cause a very physical reaction from Dick, who looks like he’s been shot, whispering a soft, “Jay.” Tim just looks uncomfortable, and Peter suddenly realizes this is how people usually take his weird ass dead parents slash dead uncle jokes.

Huh.

Peter doesn’t like it, so he decides to cut Jason some slack, “Okay, sure, I was going to bite you, but you totally would’ve deserved it.”

Jason hums, prying Peter’s fingers away from him (which Peter dutifully allows, unsticking himself), and swings off the bike. He offers his hands out for Peter, who ignores them and jumps off. “Show off,” Jason mumbles, taking his jacket off and tossing it where their helmets have been laid. Peter drops his bag, depositing his borrowed jacket next to Jason’s. Before he can put his backpack on, Jason unzips it and hands him his Robin. 

“What do I need this for?” Peter questions, ignoring the way he basically snatches it out of Jason’s hand and draws the figure to himself. Jason smirks, “We’re walking into Hell, kid, ya might what something to hold on to.”

Dick sighs, long and loud, “Don’t scare him like that, Jason.” He turns to Peter, kneeling, focusing those blue fucking eyes purely on Peter, “It’s not gonna be bad, promise. We’re gonna go meet Bruce first, in his office, and then go have some of Alfred’s yummy lunch.”

Yummy lunch.

Peter gapes at the man in front of him, wondering why the fuck he was speaking to Peter like he was five. “Dude… Grow up,” Peter says, walking away from Dick and moving to Jason.

There’s a loud guffaw behind him as Peter walks away, but he ignores it, focusing instead on Jason, who smiles down at him. Jason still holds Peter’s bag, but he’s fine with it, considering he has his Robin. When Peter turns, he sees Tim patting Dick on the back, who is definitely overreacting to what Peter said (on purpose). 

“Wrap it up, Dick,” HA! Did Jason mean that joke on purpose? Judging by his pleased face, Peter thinks he did, “Ain’t we got an appointment with Brucie to head to?”

Brucie. 

Gross. 

Dick blinks a few times, wiping away fake tears, and then nearly skips ahead of them as he leads their group inside the house. Peter grimaces, glances up at Jason to see the same look on his face, and they start walking. 

The house is fucking huge, Peter thinks, walking down another hallway after ascending a step of stairs. It’s all old money aesthetic, with the obviously very expensive paintings on the walls, decorative wooden features everywhere, and varying vases and crystal pots all over the place. It feels like a museum. Or a movie set.

Shit, is this where they filmed Dracula?

Peter spies a painting of two Roman soldiers fighting, it’s probably the size of a small car, looming down on them like a threat. Peter scoots a little closer to Jason, eyeing the painting cautiously. 

“If that thing fell on us, we’d die,” Peter says, drawing Jason’s attention to the painting. 

“Hm, nah. I’d die, sure, but ya know how spiders are. Impossible to squish.”

Peter stomps on Jason’s foot, earning a (dramatic) yelp from the man. He’s pretty happy with himself, until Dick turns around and gives him a very disappointed look. “Peter, don’t step on people’s feet, it’s very rude.”

Well, now that he’s been properly scolded, he glares at every painting he walks past, wanting them to fall off the wall and land on Dick. 

The hallway is so long there’s a fucking bench to rest on. A bookshelf is beside it, filled with a few books, more knickknacks (that Peter is sure are worth more than his and Aunt May’s entire apartment), and the ugliest fucking gold lamp Peter’s ever seen. 

Finally, they’re at a set of double doors.

It’s fucking huge, easily twenty feet tall, ornate, with golden handles. Dick knocks, three times in quick succession, and there’s a very clear, “Come in,” that has Peter shivering. When Dick opens one of the doors, Peter sees the damn thing is like four inches thick. Who needs doors that thick just for an office? What does Bruciehave in there, bombs?

His spidey sense spikes, and Peter is suddenly very nervous that there might be a fucking bomb in there. 

Peter looks around the room, eyes moving quickly over everything, searching, searching. The walls on either side of him are bookshelves, every inch filled with books, just like Jason’s safe house. He’s ignoring the large, wooden desk in the center of the room, with fancy, red leather chairs sitting in front of it. Ignoring the large man that stands up from his chair behind the desk, ignores the gorgeous fucking stained glass that’s shining multicolored, cloud-covered light into the room. 

Instead, his eyes stop roaming to the left of him, landing on a section of the bookshelf that seems different from all the others.

It has less books.

There’s a clock on the shelf, about two feet tall, ticking away, but Peter feels weird about it. Almost like… It’s ticking too fast. 

A bomb.

There’s not a fucking bomb here!

Peter’s been zeroed in on this shelf for too long, he thinks, because Tim awkwardly clears his throat and says, “Whatcha looking at, Peter?”

He doesn’t look away, though, but he does answer, “Why is that shelf different from the others?”

Jason laughs, and it does something to Peter’s ears as it slightly echoes in the room. But he’s laughing so hard he nearly doubles over, and Peter finally turns away to look at the man.

“Stop laughing at me,” Peter demands, nearly stomping his foot as says it. 

Jason ignores him, but it’s obvious he’s trying to stifle his laughter. In between it all, Jason says, “Not- laughing- at you.”

Peter narrows his eyes, unsure if he believes the giggly bitch, but he returns to looking at the shelf. The man behind the desk, Brucie, speaks, “What stands out to you?”

His voice is low and deep, but not as deep as Peter thought it would be. Out of the corner of his eyes, Peter catalogues the guy. He’s tall, probably as tall as Jason, and nearly as wide. Though his current clothes don’t show it, Peter can tell he’s built like a brick fucking wall. His sense pings, pings again when Peter ignores it. Yeah, this man may not be able to kill Peter, but he would sure as shit be able to hurt him. 

Weird.

Peter walks over to the odd shelf, runs his fingers along it, reading the spines of the books. They’re all old, classic literature titles that Peter thinks MJ would enjoy, but he’s otherwise uninterested in. 

“There’s less books here than on the other shelves,” Peter states.

“What?” Dick questions. “I mean, maybe there’s one less book?”

He sounds confused, as if he’s just now noticing it himself. Peter taps the clock, “This clock is ticking too fast. Sounds like Dick’s heartbeat.”

There’s an affronted gasp, and then Tim says, “How do you know it’s fast?”

Peter rolls his eyes, “I know what a clock sounds like, Tim.”

Jason starts laughing again. 

“Why do you think it’s different?” Brucie asks, though he remains behind his desk. His heartbeat is slowly rising, so Peter knows he’s interested. Curious that he’s keeping his distance though.

Peter drops the heartbeats in the room, ignores the ticking-too-fast-clock, and focuses beyond that.

Sound travels differently in all houses. The way rooms are structured, hallways laid out, the materials that go into them. All houses sound a little different, like a heartbeat. His room with Aunt May is loud. Peter can hear everything all around him. Sometimes if he doesn’t keep his hearing in check he feels like he’s sharing a room with all of New York. 

His room with Tony is quiet. Tony went to great lengths to soundproof his room at the Tower, calling it “Peter Proof”. He can still hear, but it’s the quietest room Peter’s ever been in since the bite. Everything’s muffled, almost like being under water. 

This room is quiet, but not that quiet. 

Peter can hear others in rooms farther away. The rest of the family. He hears a dog barking, a cow mooing (what the fuck?), and someone (Alfred?) cooking downstairs. He hears the hum of electricity that he’s come to tune out since it’s usually around him all the tim, but now he’s focusing on it. Following the lines that travel through the walls. 

Travel through the bookshelf. 

Beyond the bookshelf.

Peter can almost see the path in front of him. Following it down, down, down until he hears…

“That’s a lot of bats.”

There’s a choking sound behind him, and Peter turns to see Dick making a weird face. Tim slaps him on the back, but his eyes never leave Peter’s. Jason gives him a thumbs up.

“You can hear that?” Brucie questions, still unmoving. 

Peter finally turns to look at the man head on, sighing once he spots crystal clear blue eyes. “Must there be another one?” He questions, throwing Jason a look. 

Brucie furrows his eyebrows, “Another one?”

Tim answers, “Blue eyes. He’s unfairly biased against them.”

Peter does stomp his foot this time, “Nuh huh! If you guys just blinked a few more times, it’d be fine!”

As if in reply, Tim and Dick both start blinking rapidly, but Brucie remains staring, unblinking. Peter throws his arms up, gesturing to the man, “See? It’s creepy!” Jason nods solemnly, “It is really fucking creepy.”

Dick gives him an “are you stupid?” look, before saying, “Jay, you literally had blue eyes before.”

A shrug is all Jason offers as an answer. 

Brucie draws their attention back to what they were talking about before, “You can hear that?” He says again, watching Peter.

He feels a little like a bug under a microscope. Or a spider. 

“I can hear lotsa things,” He deflects, putting both hands on Robin and hugging it to him, uncomfortable with the staring. 

Brucie looks down, and it’s like his entire body softens. He loosens his shoulders, his stance shifting. A hip pops out, and his balance isn’t so equal on his feet. He crosses his arms across his chest (how can his arms even fit across his beefed up body?), and a hint of a smile is on his face. 

“I should probably introduce myself, hm? I am Bruce Wayne. Or, Batman, as Dick told me you have already figured it out.”

His heartbeat spiked on the word Batman, as if he was a little afraid to admit it. Peter figures it makes sense, he’d probably have a whole ass panic attack if he was standing in front of someone who just casually figured out his secret identity. Well, maybe he’d be cool if that someone was a kid…

What is he saying? If a child figured out Peter was Spider-Man he would freak out even harder! Kids can’t keep secrets for shit! Example: Peter telling Jason he’s Spider-Man.

“Jason calls you Brucie,” Peter says, eyebrow lifting.

Jason makes a funny sound, “The hell, Pete?”

But Bruce only looks amused at the entire thing, and when his eyes shift to Jason, they go even more soft. The smile becomes a bit more evident, and ooohhhhh…

Peter thinks Bruce is also on Team Jason.

That muddies everything a bit, huh?

“I’m Brucie Wayne to the media. My children have taken to calling me that name when, as they claim, I act like Brucie.”

My children.

Peter doesn’t miss the way Jason flinches at that. He also remembers clear as fucking day how Jason reacted to Peter asking if Bruce was his dad. Jason also told him he doesn’t always feel like family. So maybe Brucie wants to be on Team Jason, but Jason doesn’t want that.

He’s Team Jason adjacent. 

Not good enough, Peter thinks.

Brucie is waiting, so fucking patiently, and Peter realizes he’s probably waiting for him to introduce himself, “I’m Peter Parker. I don’t like Batman.”

Jason throws Brucie a feral grin, says, “Yeah, Pete, says he’s boring.”

He nods solemnly, “And the videos Tim showed me of Robin and Batman confirm that.”

Peter knew he shouldn’t have mentioned Robin, but it was too late now. Dick got a dopey smile on his face, “Peter loves Robin, Bruce. It’s the cutest thing ever!”

“Shut up, Dickie,” Peter says, feeling a blush take over his face. Dick starts cooing at him, and he swears Brucie looks like he might join in. He doesn’t know what he’d do if the beefcake that is the man standing in front of him started oohing and awing over him.

“Ha!” Jason barks out a laugh, looking like a proud parent. Dick rolls his eyes, wagging his finger at Jason, “You’re a bad influence on him.” Jason gasped, hand to heart, which then morphs into him flipping Dick off. Peter starts laughing, while Dick and Tim just watch them. 

“I told you! He’s like a mini Jason!” Tim exclaims, hands up and gesturing to the two of them. Peter copies Jason, throwing his hand to his heart and then flipping Tim off. Dick’s eyes actually look like they’re going to bulge out of his face, and then he says, “Jason! You’re teaching him bad manners!”

Jason responds by giving Peter a high five. 

There’s a throat clearing, and the four of them look at Bruce, who simply raises his eyebrows at them. Jason doesn’t even look abashed, just smiles slyly and says, “What, old man? Disagree with my parenting?”

Parenting?

“Is that what you call what you do?” Peter says, “I don’t think feeding me fast food and letting me watch sad movies to go to bed is called parenting.”

Jason looks affronted, “What do you mean ‘sad movies’? What movies are you watching?”

“The Land Before Time.”

Tim actually gasps, hand to heart, wide eyes turning to Jason, “You let him watch that before bed? What the fuck, Jason, that’s like the saddest movie ever!”

Dick’s just nodding, so fast the man closes his eyes, like he was giving himself motion sickness. Jason just shakes his head, looking between his brothers and Peter, “He slept fine that night!”

Peter hums, “Sure, I did,” He says noncommittally.

He totally did, but he likes seeing Jason all flustered. It’s pretty funny. There’s a few more minutes of Jason fighting for his life against Tim and Dick, before he finally catches Peter’s smirk. “Oh, you fucking asshole!” Jason yells, gently shoving Peter.

Peter sticks his tongue out at Jason, to which he replies with the same. 

He hadn’t even heard the new person coming, too focused on everything else happening around him. The real bats, the people bats, the Jason essentially joking that he was Peter’s dad. Now there’s a new person, standing way too straight, holding himself perfectly still in the door. Black hair and green eyes, shit, is this kid like Jason’s actual child? 

Weirdly, that thought makes Peter hiss.

Out loud.

The person turns to Peter, and suddenly he realizes no, this is not Jason’s kid. That face, that silent staring, yeah, that was all Brucie. Holy shit, if Peter thought the thousand yard blue-eyed stare was bad that was nothing compared to this. 

“You must be the boy from the Lazarus pits,” He says, taking two steps into the room. He comes no closer. 

“Peter,” Peter says, as if this guy didn’t know that. 

Judging by the singular raised eyebrow, he definitely did know that.

“Damian Wayne.”

Oh my fucking god.

His Robin in his hands feels like it’s burning him. He starts squeezing it, debating whether to hide it behind his back or simply throw it straight through the stained glass windows behind Brucie. Before he can decide, Damian looks down, just like the guy’s dad had. 

And just like Brucie, his entire body softens. 

Peter’s face heats up as Damian’s eyes return to his. He so fucking wishes he had left his Robin in his bag, why did he let Jason give it to him? The dick.

Speaking of Jason…

The man is now standing, almost between Peter and Damian, but stood far enough to the side that they can still see each other. Before anything else can be said, Jason turns, eyeing Peter. 

“Good?” He asks Peter in a quiet voice, only for them to hear. 

Peter sends him a tiny smile, nods, and maybe this was just for him, but he figured Jason might get some comfort out of too, so Peter reaches a hand out, and grabs Jason’s. The man glances down at their hands, and squeezes Peter’s. When Peter looks back up at the group of people surrounding him and Jason.

Brucie and Damian both have the same look on their faces, looking like mirror images of each other. Analyzing, cataloguing. Peter feels a whisper at his back, like his sense is warning them about these two. Dick looks like he might start squealing, and Tim doesn’t seem to care atll. 

“Todd,” Damian says, sharp eyes roving over Peter, following where Jason’s hand is connected to him, “What qualifies you to raise a child?”

Well.

Peter supposes that was blunt enough.

MJ would be the same way, he thinks. That thought makes him smile.

“Well, you know how it is, brat, I thought: shit, if Bruce can do it, anybody can!”

Damian makes a tsk sound, turning away from them and walking toward Bruce. 

His body tense, alarm blaring in his head.

There’s someone(s) coming.

Peter tenses, listening, turns to Jason and says, “Three people are coming.”

Brucie leans forward, eyes going a little wide, obvious interest written on his face, “You can hear them?”

Sure, now he can. Now that his sense told him they were coming, Peter extended his hearing out to the others in the house. But he wasn’t listening for them, per se. In fact, he wasn’t listening for them at all. He was entirely focused on the inhabitants of the room he was in.

“I can feel them,” He answers cryptically. 

It’s not a lie. He can feel them. Coming closer and closer. He tells himself it’s just because it’s three new people coming, but something is going off inside him. His sense is blaring a Code… God, what color even is it? It feels dangerous, whatever it is.

Damian eyes him, seeming to look through him to his very center, and Peter kind of curls in on himself. He holds his Robin a little tighter to his chest, fingers turning white with the effort. Damian glances down, narrows his eyes at the figure, before blinking and turning away. 

“How do you know it’s three?” Dick asks.

“Heartbeats. One is fast, not as fast as yours,” Peter says, pointing at Dick, “But fast. One is… Really quiet. I’ve never heard a heartbeat like that. It’s like it’s buried underneath a million blankets.”

Peter stops, tilting his head, listening harder. “That’s cool. The other one has a pretty normal heartbeat. They sound like Tim. Perfectly average.”

Jason snorts, “Yeah, Timmy, you’re average!”

Tim rolls his eyes, flipping him off, but before anything else can be said the three heartbeats appear in the doorway. 

Two women and a man, eyes looking all over the room before landing on Peter. Though one of the women was already looking at Peter before the others, like she already knew where he’d be in the room. Peter looked into her eyes, seeing a brown that was reminiscent of his used-to-be eye color. It was a long moment of staring, and Peter’s spidey sense was trilling at being seen but also alerting to being SEEN! The woman looked perplexed, and then she smiled. 

“I am Cass,” She said, voice quiet. 

But Peter heard her loud and clear. He nodded, smiled, “I’m Peter.”

 Finally, she looked away from him, and Peter knows it’s not her. The danger. Yeah, she is dangerous, but she wasn’t what his sense was warning him about. Peter looked at the others. A dark skinned man stood next to a blonde woman. The man eyed Peter like he was a bomb, and the woman seemed to be bouncing on her feet. 

“I’m Steph!” She said, giddiness leaking into her voice, “And you are just so totally adorable! Oh my gosh, look at him, Duke!”

The man, Duke, smiled placatingly at Steph, “I can see him, Steph, yeah. In case you didn’t catch that, I’m Duke.”

It’s him! Was screamed inside him. 

Peter watched them, unsure what the fuck that meant. What was him? His sense was still screaming, but Peter wasn’t focusing on it. Something felt like it was growing, getting bigger and bigger, crescendoing, until…

POP!

Peter covered his ears, falling to the floor, yelping. The room got too bright, sending stabbing pains into his brain, and he squeezed his eyes shut. His sense was blaring, alerting, whining, and what the fuck is going on!

He willed himself to get control, begging his body to get it the fuck together, and then he felt hands on him. Manhandling him. He was lifted, set down. He’s in a chair. A comfy chair. There’s hands in his hair. 

Apples and gunpowder.

”Jason?”

There’s a hum, an affirmative noise, and Peter melts. He’s okay, he thinks, whatever is happening will pass but until then, Jason is here. Jason won’t let anything happen to him.

He comes to what feels like hours later. 

Surely not, considering the cloud light is still shining through the windows and everyone is surrounding him. If it had been hours he thinks they would’ve dispersed by now. He blinks a few times, and lowers his hands from his ears.

“Are you alright, Peter?” Jason asks, voice soft.

He swallows, looking around, noting everything’s… Alright? Nothing happened. It was all him. But it was like a fucking bomb went off in his body. What the hell was that?

“Sorry, it was- I don’t know. Like my body took a screenshot.”

Tim laughed, and then groaned when Steph elbowed him. 

“What happened?” Damian asked, standing farthest away but with the most curious look on his face. 

Peter thinks, wondering how to explain it, “Like I was on crack and acid at the same time.”

Jason arches an eyebrow, “And how the hell would you know what that’s like?”

Peter tried for a smile but he thinks it came out more as a grimace. “I’m a very experienced ten-year-old,” He jokes, but nobody laughs.

He tries to sit up, but Jason pushes him down, forcing him to lean back into the chair. He glares up at the man, but Jason doesn’t budge. “No way, baby spider, you’re staying down. You just collapsed. Fell like dead weight. It was like watching you shut down completely.”

Oh.

Peter hears it then.

Jason’s worried.

“Don’t worry about me,” Peter attempts to placate the man, “It was like a repeat of when I got my powers. Just… Condensed into a way smaller time frame.”

He’s trying for nonchalant, but he’s fucking terrified. What the fuck happened? Peter wasn’t lying, though, because what happened had been like when he got his powers, just in a shorter amount of time. He doesn’t feel as different as he did back then, though. But he also doesn’t have a baseline to compare it to. 

“Uh,” Duke said, looking sheepish, “My bad?”

And then it was like everyone took a breath, though Peter was still really fucking confused. He waited a moment for someone to explain and when no one did, he growled, “Anyone wanna fucking explain it to me?”

Duke explains, looking a little pained, and also steadfastly not looking at Peter, “It’s one of my powers, Peter. I can, um, enhance other metas? I guess that’d be how I explain it. It’s not something I really control. It just happens to metas that are around me.”

Peter chews on that for a minute.

“You’re like a real life power up,” He whispers.

Duke’s eyes shoot up, and there’s a bit of relief there, “I’m really sorry, Peter. I totally should’ve warned you, or at least Jason, but I’m not around a lot of metas, so-”

Peter holds up a hand, silencing him, “Nah, who cares. Like I said, it was like when I got my powers, just shorter, so I appreciated that. The first time that happened I thought I was dying for, like, three days.”

Apparently, that was not the right thing to say, because everyone looks a little sick at his admission. Well, Damian doesn’t. Peter appreciates that. 

“You got your powers? What do you mean?” Duke asked.

Peter sat up, swiping away Jason’s hands, “I got bit by a radioactive spider while on a field trip. I got really sick for three days, like I said, and then BAM!” He yelled the last word, laughing when they jumped. 

Though Brucie and Damian didn’t jump. 

Assholes.

“I got spider powers,” Peter finishes off with a smile. 

“That’s cool as shit,” Steph says, leaning closer to Peter, “Do you have webs?”

Peter sighs, “No, but I can make them. I just need access to a lab with the right chemicals.”

That piques Damian’s interest, and he stalks closer, green eyes sparkling, “How do you know how to make spider webbing?”

Oh. 

Right.

He’s just a dumb kid to them. Not Spider-Man. Is now the right time to tell them? He tries to make eye contact with Jason, but the man is looking hard at Brucie, so Peter doesn’t.

“I already said I’m an experienced ten-year-old.”

Damian doesn’t buy it, but he doesn’t need him to. Because the others roll their eyes at his lame joke and that’s all that matters. They start backing off, and then Peter hears the bats again.

“Okay, seriously, what’s up with the bats below us? Is there a secret lair down there or something?”

Brucie pauses, and then, “Yes.”

There’s sounds coming from everyone suddenly. Damian looks absolutely appalled at Brucie’s casual answer, and Tim and Dick are just gaping at him. Jason made a “huh?” sound, and Steph looks gleeful. Cass offers nothing but a deadpan stare. 

“What the actual fuck, Bruce?” Tim says.

Brucie looks at Tim, blinks once, and then returns his eyes to Peter. “We call it the Batcave.”

“Father—” Damian starts, but Peter interrupts, “Who the fuck named it that? A ten-year-old?”

Silence.

“Wait a minute…”

And then Jason’s laughing, ruffling Peter’s hair. Dick makes a sad noise, “I named it! And I was ten!”

Peter blinks at him, “And you landed on Batcave?”

He throws his hands in the air, “Well, what would you have named it then?”

Peter honestly has no fucking clue. If there was a cave full of bats below his house, what would he name it? Maybe Fuck Ass Cave, because he’s not really a fan of caves these days.

“I don’t like caves, so I wouldn’t have named it anything,” Peter says, sticking his tongue out as if he won the argument.

Tim’s phone went off, stopping any of them from saying anything else.

He withdrew it from his pocket, looking down at it, before he looked back up at Peter. He didn’t stay looking for long, before he turned his eyes to Bruce, “The data from the LOA base has been decrypted.”

Bruce nods, heading for the door while he says, “Let’s go over it in the Cave.”

Peter jumps up, side stepping out of the way of Jason’s hands, “I’m coming!” He declares, heading straight for the weird fucking clock on the bookshelf. 

He ignores the room behind him, searching for a switch on the shelf. There has to be one. This has to be the secret door to the Batcave, it just has to. Peter runs his hands over the books again, but they feel like genuine books. So it isn’t one of those book switches like he sees in movies. 

Hm. Curiouser and curiouser. 

It has to be the clock, he thinks. That too-fast clock. He’s felt weird about it since the start. But what about the clock? How could the clock open the door? Maybe a code, he guesses. A set time. Well, Peter’s fucked, then. There’s no way he’s going to be able to brute force his way in. He sighs, turning back to look at Brucie, who had come to stand a few feet behind him.

“What time does it need to be so the door opens?” He asks, enjoying the way Brucie and Damian both look surprised at the question.

Jason smiles, “Kid’s fucking smart, Bruce.”

Why does it sound like Jason’s bragging about his actual kid?

Peter feels warm all over at the thought. 

Brucie walks over, slow, taking very measured steps as if afraid he was going to spook Peter. And, fair, he guesses. If Dick told Brucie anything about Peter, he would seem like a skittish kid. So Peter lets Brucie be all slow and cautious, and when he gets to the clock, he locks in on the code.

10:47.

Yeah, Peter never would’ve guessed that. He would have started at 12:00 and gone from there. If he had tried to brute force it, that would have been, like, 647 attempts before he got it. If he moved fast, he might have gotten it rather quickly, but he’s also likely to get bored and give up. 

The bookshelf swings inwards, and reveals the darkest hallway Peter’s ever seen in his life.

He actually takes a step back. “Uh, I just suddenly realized I know very little about you. Like, I know you’re Batman, and that you’re apparently rich as hell. But, I mean, rich people are already on my Don’t Trust list, and no offense to you, but middle aged vigilantes also aren’t easy to trust.”

Deadpool helped create that rule.

That man was fucking crazy.

Jason was laughing behind him, but Peter was still staring at the dark ass hallway in front of him. 

“Basically, are you going to murder me if I go down there?” Peter asks, turning to look Bruce in the eyes. Because he’s asking Bruce, not Brucie. 

Said man looks horrified at the question, “I would never hurt you, Peter. I swear on my life.”

“Damn, dude, chill out. A simple no would’ve been good.”

“Can we go?” Tim asks roughly, shoving between Peter and Bruce to walk easily into the hallway that looks like an entrance to an actual dungeon. Dick comes up to them, and says, “The cave used to be used to hide slaves during the underground railroad,” Before he heads in behind Tim.

Oh.

Peter supposes that does make it a bit easier to go down there.

Still. He turns to find Jason, and doesn’t allow himself a moment to hesitate and grabs Jason’s hand. He sticks to it, and judging by the face Jason makes he feels his setules on his skin.

“What is that?” Jason asks, allowing Peter to pull him into the hallway.

“My stickiness.”

Damian and Bruce follow behind, with Duke and Steph behind them. Cass is silently trailing, and if Peter doesn’t focus on her, it’s like she disappears completely. 

Cool.

“Care to explain a bit more, kiddo?” 

Peter sighs, walking closer to Jason the darker it gets. He fucking wishes spiders had better night vision because this is frankly ridiculous. He really misses his spidey suit right now. “I can stick to things. Haven’t I said that?”

“Wait a minute, are you stuck to me right now?” As if to test that, Jason shook his hand violently, but it never dislodged from Peter’s own. 

“What the fuck,” Jason whispered.

Peter started getting a little embarrassed, “I can let go,” He says quietly, “I just don’t see very well in the dark.”

Jason squeezes Peter’s hand, “Nah, we’re good,” He says quickly, moving a little ahead of Peter to lead him. 

Finally, dim lights started appearing. Peter sees two metal doors, and he heard it earlier, likely from Tim and Dick, operating. An elevator gets closer and closer to them, humming with quiet noise. Jason doesn’t even have to tap a button, as the doors open the moment they stop in front of them. Jason drags Peter inside where he sees many different buttons. 

Jason starts jamming the close doors button repeatedly, but Damian and Bruce make it through before they close. Bruce simply places his hand over the open doors, successfully keeping them open for the others to make it through.

Jason sighs loudly, and then says, “No fucking peace in this house.”

Peter laughs, earning him a smile from Jason. He sees out of the corner of his eye how Bruce is fucking locked in on Peter’s hand in Jason’s. He squirms a little at the attention, but he still doesn’t let go. Sure, the elevator’s lit up like a Christmas tree, but what about when they get out? An actual bat cave is dark, right? Chances are the Batcave they’re heading toward is dark.

“Why do you carry that toy?” Damian asks, eyes focused on the Robin in his hand.

Peter squeezes the figure, looking down at it, then back up at Damian, “Robin’s my favorite.”

There’s an insulted gasp behind him, where Steph, Duke and Cass filed in, and when Peter turns, he sees a shocked look on Steph’s face. “What about Spoiler?”

He shrugs, “Robin’s my favorite,” He repeats. 

Steph makes a lot of aborted noises, before she points at his shoes, “But you’re wearing Spoiler shoes!”

Peter looks down at his purple shoes, “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

Steph continues with her distraught sounds, and Duke attempts to comfort her, though he sounds pretty over the entire thing. Cass smiles a very small smile at them. 

“Pete’s obsessed with Robin,” Jason says, shiteating grin on his dumb face.

“Am not.”

“Are to.”

“Am not.”

“Are to.”

“Am not.”

“Are-” Before Jason could continue, Peter brought Jason’s hand up to his mouth and bit down.

“Fuck!” Jason yells, attempting to yank his hand away but finding it firmly stuck in Peter’s. “We literally just fucking talked about this a few hours ago, spider brat, let go!”

Peter bit down a little harder, not even breaking skin, and then let go. He smiled, all cheeks and bright eyes, up at Jason, “Don’t argue with me.”

There’s laughing, and Peter turns to see Damian with a wide smile on his face, laughing with his whole body. Steph and Duke are looking at Damian like he’s an alien, and Bruce’s face is slowly smiling the longer he looks at the guy. Jason fumes, but doesn’t try to take his hand away from Peter, “Stop laughing, demon brat.”

Huh.

Is that, like, an affectionate name for Jason?

Spider brat. Demon brat.

“Has Damian ever… Laughed like that?” Duke whispers to Steph, who minutely shakes her head.

Eventually, Damian’s laughter subsides, and he looks at Peter with still sparkling eyes, “That was quite funny, Peter. I enjoyed that.”

He preens, and Jason says, “Fucking great, Dames, now the kid’s gonna bite me all the time to make you laugh.”

Damian deadpan stares at Jason, “I see nothing wrong with that.”

“Me either!” Peter adds cheerfully. 

Ding!

Peter flinches into Jason at the elevator’s ding. His shoulders come up almost automatically to block his ears. Jason yanks him out of the elevator, and when Peter looks behind him, he sees Duke mouth “sorry”. Peter shrugs, says, “Loud noises always suck, whether my hearing is powered up or not.”

That seems to help Duke, at least a little, and they walk into the cave. 

…

What the fuck.

“Is that a giant penny?” 

“Just keep walking, Pete, please,” Jason begs, leading him along.

They’re on a circular platform. The Batman symbol shines in the middle of the circle, lighting up the cave. Everything looks super high tech, such a contrast from the manor they just left behind that Peter gets whiplash. There’s screens everywhere. Different maps are on some monitors, others have what looks like weather radar. He sees one that looks to be showing a database running through a thousand different people. 

His eyes don’t know where to look. 

There’s a glass case on the far wall, and Peter sees various different suits. All the figure’s he has from Bat Burger have a suit in the case, and then some. It’s a little daunting, honestly. 

Tony would love this place, Peter thinks.

Well, not the cave part. Peter and Tony now share their dislike for caves. But he’d love all the tech. 

Attached to the circle they’re on are platforms leading to other circles. One has an actual fucking Tyrannosaurus rex on it, is this place even real?!

Far away Peter sees a platform with cars on it. And a plane?!

“So, you’re, like, rich rich,” Peter says, head swiveling around the place.

Bruce answers with a hum, walking steadily behind them.

On the main platform, or at least what Peter is assuming is the main platform since it’s the one the elevator leads to and the one that holes all the important shit, Tim sits at a semi-circle desk surrounded by computers. He looks to be using all of them at the same time, hands flying across the keyboard in front of him and eyes rapidly flicking across all the monitors. It’s a little dizzying to watch.

Dick is simply throwing a ball in the air and catching it, sitting on the edge of the desk. He offers them a boyish grin, “Tim was tired of waiting for you guys.”

Duke huffed, “It took us, like, five minutes to get here.”

Tim, while staring at the monitors in front of him, said, “Four minutes too long.”

“Peter looking,” Cass says, voice quiet, but heard by everyone. 

It’s like Tim just remembered Peter was here, as his entire body freezes and he slowly turns his body around in the chair to look at Peter. 

Code Bat.

He’s decided to name anything to do with this family Code Bat. If his sense goes off with them, yeah, it’s a Code Bat all the way. And right now? With Tim’s freaky unblinking blue eyes watching him? Code Bat times a million.

“It wasn’t the LOA,” Tim states, voice monotone. 

Bruce moves around him and Jason, heading toward Tim. He leans over the desk, hands resting on the edge. Despite his shirt’s half-sleeves, Peter can see the definition in the man’s forearms. He’s pretty Bruce is beefed up more than Captain America, holy shit.

“What’s the LOA, by the way?” Peter asks, looking at Jason, even though Damian answers, “League of Assassins.”

Oh, cool, that doesn’t sound absolutely fucking crazy at all. 

“They’re the ones who brought me back,” Jason says.

Peter hears the rise in Bruce’s heartbeat, and watches as Dick’s face screws up. Peter ignores it, turning his attention back to Jason. “It’s the base I was in?”

Jason nods, but again, Tim answers, “It was their base, but not them. We thought the base was abandoned years ago, run out by,” Tim glances up at Bruce, “Batman. When Jason went down there, we just figured they had returned. But it wasn’t them.”

Damian moves to the monitors, copying Bruce’s pose, “I already told you that, Drake. Mother said they had no part in this.”

“Yeah, well, now we know for sure.”

“And you did not know for sure before? My mother stated their hands were clean of this resurrection, you did not believe her?”

Tim’s face definitely showed he didn’t believe Damian’s mom, all screwed up and narrowed eyes, but before anything could be said, Bruce interrupted, “Who are Morlocks?”

The name tickled in Peter’s brain but nothing came to the top. It was like his memories from before he woke up in the jello. Right there but just below the surface. He can’t grab it before it sinks to the bottom. 

“I’ve never heard of them,” Duke says, Steph and Cass agreeing with him. “They’re not in our database at all. They’re completely new,” Tim said, drawing Dick’s attention as when he threw the ball it bounced right off his head as he stared at Tim.

“What do you mean they’re not in the database? How new are these guys?”

Tim shrugged, back to his keyboard, eyes flicking over the monitors, “Really new, would be my guess. I don’t know if they just got lucky stumbling onto the pits, or if they were tipped off, but they found them either way.”

Damian’s nostrils widened in his anger, “You truly think my mother would tip this random group of fools off? For what purpose?”

“Any purpose? I doubt anybody screened these guys before letting them loose in the abandoned base.”

Again, before a fight could ensue, Bruce interrupted, “What else have you found out from their files?”

Tim stops typing, falling backwards into the chair. He blinks a few times, rubs at his eyes, and looks wearily up at Bruce, “Not as much as I’d like. They didn’t keep the most diligent notes, ya know? That, or they didn’t keep all of them on file. Maybe they were pen and paper type people.”

Jason grunted, “So you have nothing?”

“Not nothing, jackass!” Tim yelled, “I know Peter wasn’t the first.”

Dread washed over Peter so fucking fast he started shivering. Jason brought him closer to his body, hand squeezing his. “What do you mean?”

When Tim’s eyes drifted to Peter’s, he softened entirely. “They had the kid for a while. Years, even. Enough to note down the kid’s meta abilities. Spider-like,” Those blue eyes stared hard into Peter’s green ones. “The first kid, the original, I guess, died from unknown causes. Their report looks like it was written by a third grader, but either way, it’s like the kid was there one minute, dead the next.”

The callous way Tim speaks about a dead kid makes Peter a bit uncomfortable, but he figures he’s trying to get through this quickly. Tim also looks a little squirmy as he recounts the information he has so far. 

“They dumped him in the pits. They figured out they had healing properties by healing themselves. So of course they dunked the kid into them, thinking it would help, but nothing happened. I… This is the part where I don’t fucking know what happened. There’s no notes on what they did, how they did it, just that they brought someone back.”

Bruce grunted out one word: “Explain.”

Tim had the heels of his palms shoved into his eyes, but he did explain, “Judging by their half-assed reports, they brought someone back from another universe. Not Peter,” Tim clarified, dropping his hands and looking at Jason, “Somebody else. Again, it’s all a fucking mess, and I can tell over half the information’s missing.”

“Keep going. Tell us what you know, ignore what you don’t,” Dick said, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Tim nodded, suddenly going steely, like all he ever needed was a pep talk from Dick, “They brought back somebody else. This kid was a little different, they noted his meta abilities were… More intense than the original’s. I don’t know what they were doing with the kid, but they had him for about six months.”

Tim goes back to typing, but Peter thinks it’s just a way to distract himself as he continues, “Second one died of blunt force trauma to the head, apparently. That’s noted in the report very explicitly. Also noted very explicitly is that it wasn’t their fault. Like the kid got in a fight with someone else, or, I don’t know, fell down the stairs. Whatever.”

Whatever. 

Peter thinks Tim is trying to make it sound nonchalant so he doesn’t get too upset by it. Peter’s upset by it. Some random kid gets brought to a different universe by some group of losers, spends six months in their “care”, and then dies after getting the shit knocked out of him? He’s near seething thinking of what this innocent kid went through.

“The third one they brought over is Peter,” Tim says, staring resolutely ahead, not looking at any of them.

Especially not looking at Peter.

“How do you know?” Jason asks, voice low.

“He’s the last entry. Brought over to this universe three months ago, meta abilities like a spider, stronger than the last two.”

Wait a fucking minute.

“Three months ago?” Peter questions, feeling like he’s back in the jello pit, falling lower and lower, unable to breathe, or see. 

His hand slips out of Jason’s, no longer sticking, but Jason doesn’t let him drift away. The man grabs him, both hands landing heavily on his shoulders, forcing Peter to stand in front of him. It brings Peter back, but only just. 

“They… Experimented, Peter. It was their thing. How else do you think they figured out how your abilities differed from the others?”

Something like bile crawls its way up his throat. Peter can’t see, everything going blurry, until he realizes tears are filling his eyes. “But I don’t remember anything,” He whispers.

Tim looks pained, clear as day even through Peter’s teary vision. Dick himself looks close to crying, which Peter despises. Cass walks, quietly, until she’s standing right beside Peter. She doesn’t touch him, but her quiet heartbeat does comfort him.

“Peter, the minimal reports they have of these past few months, I’m… It makes sense that you wouldn’t remember,” Tims voice is so fucking soft, but Peter hears the grief in it.

What happened to him? What do the reports say? Peter wants to know everything, but also wants to know nothing. He takes a very small shuffle backwards, further into Jason. The man gets the hint and wraps one arm fully around Peter, as if locking him in place. 

“There’s nothing that says what they wanted? Why they did this?” Steph asks, holding a large tablet in her hands, swiping through something quickly. 

Tim shakes his head, “They didn’t leave a manifesto, no.”

“What about where they went?” Damian asks, narrowed eyes boring into the screen before him. 

Another shake of his head, “No. Their last report was about Peter dying, and placing him in the pits. Their updates stop after that. It’s like they dropped him in, and then disappeared.”

“How did I die?”

Jason stiffens behind him, but Peter has to know. Has to, has to, has to. 

“Your heart gave out.”

Tim doesn’t explain anymore. He has his back to Peter, as if afraid to look at him, and Peter doesn’t understand why. He also doesn’t understand his death. His heart gave out? How? Why? What did they do to him?

Why can’t he remember? 

Field trip, pits. That’s what he has. He was sitting by Ned, and then he wasn’t. He assumed something happened on the bus, and he was taken from there to the pits. But that apparently wasn’t the case. He’s been in this universe for three months, and he has no memories of it. 

Field trip, three months, pits. 

What happened to him?

…

Why hasn’t Tony found him yet?

If he’s been missing for three months, surely Tony would be looking for him. Has he given up already?

Wait… “I’m in some other dead kid’s body?” Peter asks, voice high pitched.

Tim whips around, eyes wide, “What are you talking about?”

Peter’s close to hyperventilating, and Jason’s hands on him are just barely keeping him together, “You said they had the first kid for a few years. This body! Right? I thought… I thought my body was brought from my universe, but this body’s been here the whole time! So the original owner of this body is dead, and then it, like, got fucking rented out to some other kid who died. And now I’m in it! Like a goddamn body snatcher!”

Cass’s hand hovers over him, not touching, but almost, and he looks up at her. She doesn’t smile, or frown, just looks at him. Peter remembers to breathe.

“How did his powers transfer over?” Duke asked, eyebrows drawn together. Bruce hums, turning to look at Duke, “Good question.”

Steph throws her hands up, “Does it actually matter? He’s here with his powers, who cares how they came over!”

Tim purses his lips, thinking, “Maybe it doesn’t matter, maybe it does. We have no idea of anything, really, not right now. It is a good question, like Bruce said. Obviously, Peter’s here with his powers. But how?”

Finally, Jason speaks, voice rumbling against Peter’s back, “You said the previous kids had powers. The first one did, too. So why wouldn’t Peter have powers?”

“But stronger powers?” Tim questions. “How could the powers increase if the body stayed the same, and only the… Inhabitant changed?”

“Maybe his powers are attached to his soul,” Duke says, eye roving over Peter, as if analyzing him. 

Soul. The word alone sends something nasty crawling along his back. Why? Somebody’s voice is speaking in the back of his head, he can barely hear it, but he tries to. He wants to hear it. What’re they saying? 

It’s a whisper. 

He took her to Vormir, he came back with the Soul Stone.

Who said that? And when? Vormir. Peter doesn’t know what the fuck Vormir is. He also has no idea who took her there. What does any of that have to do with him? But the words soul stone keeps circling in his head, over and over. 

“This doesn’t fucking matter!” Jason yells, startling Peter from his thoughts. “What matters is finding the sick fucks that did this.”

Bruce turns, standing straight, facing Jason head on, “We will find them, Jason, but they will be dealt with in the proper way.”

Jason wraps his other arm around Peter, effectively caging him in, holding Peter to his front. “The proper way,” Jason growls, hands shaking against Peter’s chest. 

Peter has no idea what the actual hell is happening, but he thinks this is where the whole ‘Jason has an issue with Bruce’ thing is going to rear its head. Bruce interrupted Damian and Tim before they could devolve into arguments, so Peter decides to interrupt this one, “Can I read the reports?”

He doesn’t want to, not really, but he also thinks he probably should. There might be something there that triggers Peter to remember the (apparently) last three months of his life. At his question, though, Tim looks sick.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, kid,” He says, shutting off various monitors, as if afraid Peter would make a run for it to read them. 

Smart, considering Peter totally would have. “You might have missed something!” Peter says, voice rising. 

“I’ll read over the reports, Peter. Whatever Drake missed, I will find,” Damian states, standing straight up, an air of confidence about him that Peter is envious of. Tim huffs, turning to glare at Damian, “I didn’t miss anything!”

Damian shrugs one shoulder, turning his nose up at Tim, “Then you should not be bothered by my reading them.”

This time it isn’t Bruce that interrupts the argument, but a new person. Peter hadn’t even heard them arrive, too busy focusing on everything else. Like the fact he’s been out of his universe for three months, experimented on, killed, and then thrown into a fucking resurrection jello pit and left behind. 

Jason’s heartbeat doesn’t even change when this new person speaks, so Peter relaxes into him. 

“Pardon me for the interruption, but I am here to remind all of you that it is now time for lunch.”

The man sounds very posh, with a fancy accent. When Jason turns them, Peter sees he’s older, with grey hair and a grey mustache, wearing a butler suit like the one off Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. 

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce says, turning to shut off the monitors Tim had left on. He turns to the group, “We are done for now. Let’s have lunch. We’ll discuss more later.”

His words are final, so final even Jason doesn’t say anything. Slowly, the group turns and exits the batcave. Jason lets go of him, but only so that Peter can walk without tripping him. They’re side by side, and this time Jason grabs Peter’s hand. He holds Robin close, looking down at the figure until they exit the elevator and it gets too dark to really see him. 

Before they can follow the others out of the office, Jason stops them. Peter doesn’t fight it, watches the group get farther and farther away. Jason kneels in front of Peter, hands on his cheeks, so similar to the library debacle from earlier. And, god, was that just this morning? 

“Say the word and we’re gone, kiddo,” Jason says, very seriously looking into his eyes. 

“It’s family day,” He mutters, as if that answers everything. Jason smiles, though it doesn’t look happy. “Don’t care, Peter. That was a fucking lot. If you wanna dip, then let's dip.”

Peter swallows, looks away from Jason to look at his Robin. “I really wanna hang out with Damian.”

Jason rolls his eyes, but he looks far less serious, so Peter counts it as a win. He stands up, grabbing Peter’s hand again, “Of course you do, you little fanboy.” Before Peter can yell about that, Jason scoops up Peter’s backpack from the door (when did he put it there?!), and they leave the office. 

“Ya know, I think lunch would be the perfect time to tell them about Spider-Man,” Jason says. 

Chapter Text

Peter doesn’t know if he should laugh or bite Jason. Instead, he just walks dutifully beside him. “Is that a dumb joke?”

Jason shrugs, smile tugging at his lips, “Maybe. Wouldn’t it be funny to see their faces? Give Timmy something else to focus on.”

The last part is said seriously, and Jason looks at Peter out of the corner of his eyes. “Tim struggles with being human, ya know? When he finds something like this, like those Morlocks, and there’s pieces missing, he fixates on it. Forgets to sleep, eat. Human things.”

Tim sounds  a lot like Tony.

“So… Telling him about Spider-Man will distract him? Won’t it just give him something else to focus on? He’ll still forget to take care of himself.”

Jason hums as they walk down the stairs, “He’ll want to know more about it. Everything about it. But unlike those reports, the source is you . A kid that needs to eat and drink just like him.”

Oh.

A surprised laugh comes out of Peter, “So you want to use me like bait? Dangle me in front of Tim’s face as some science project and say he only gets to study me if he eats his vegetables and sleeps eight hours.”

 The hand holding his squeezes, “With Tim it’ll be more like sleeps at least four hours, but yeah, basically.”

“Can it be after lunch? I’m really hungry,” Peter questions, feeling his belly rumble. It had felt like forever since breakfast. He’s really craving a q’tasba melon right now. He might have to see if he can smuggle some back to his universe somehow. 

Jason chuckles, tugging Peter down hallways that just showcase more art Peter’s too afraid to breathe near. Is that a fucking suit of armor? Good god he kind of wants to throw up. 

“Sounds like a plan, baby spider. Alfred’s food is so yummy , remember?” He mocks Dick’s words from earlier, and Peter just rolls his eyes.

When they finally come to a large archway, Peter sees a fancy dining table. Thick, glossy wood, plates and glasses laid out with all the silverware around them. It’s so traditional looking that Peter feels grossly out of place. Jason doesn’t hesitate, pulling him inside the room. On the left side are all windows, overlooking the land. Grassy hills, mature trees, and the prettiest flowers Peter’s ever seen. 

Sitting at the head of the table is Bruce, his back to the windows. He faces into the room. To Bruce’s left sits Damian, Cass, and Dick. To his right is Babs, Steph, Duke, and Tim. There’s an empty chair at the other end of the table, and beside Dick. Jason shoves Peter into the one beside Dick, and takes the last chair, facing Bruce. 

“Hi, Peter!” Babs says, either unaware of everything that went down in the Batcave, or uncaring. 

She’s their person behind the scenes, Peter thinks, he can guess that she already knows. 

Peter smiles at her, lifting his hand up in a weird wave, “Hi, Babs.”

Alfred enters then, from the doors behind Jason. He has plates of food that he begins bringing, making multiple trips. Peter must make a face, because Jason whispers, “Don’t even bother asking to help, kid. He’s told all of us no. Multiple times.”

Alfred stops by his chair, leaning down just slightly, “I have yet to introduce myself. I am the Wayne family butler, Alfred Pennyworth. Please call me Alfred.”

“I’m Peter,” He says, looking again at the stereotypical butler outfit the guy has on. 

“Very nice to meet you, young master Peter. What would you prefer to drink? I am able to provide water, tea, juice or soda.”

Young master Peter .

Peter feels like he’s in Black Butler or some shit.

“Um, can I just have water, please?” Peter asks, feeling so odd at basically ordering when he’s in a house. A very fancy house, but a house all the same. He doesn’t ask anybody else what they want, and Peter guesses he already knows. 

Soon enough, everyone has something to drink, and all the food has been placed on the table. It’s like a scene out of one of those Disney movies where the main character comes down just to eat a bite of toast before running away because they’re late going somewhere. It’s fucking crazy seeing all this food in front of him.

Before Peter can ask Jason what the fuck to do, Alfred enters again, “I can take the backpack from you, master Jason. And the toy from you, young master Peter.”

Jason easily hands off the bag, but Peter freezes in his chair at the thought of giving up his Robin. Why? He’s going to eat lunch, he doesn’t need the toy with him. But he doesn’t want to let it go! It’s his Robin, after all, nobody else’s. He swallows hard, convincing himself to stop being a fucking baby, and slowly turns to hand it off to Alfred. 

“He keeps it, Alfie. Don’t worry about it — he’s not like demon brat over there. Pete’ll keep it in his lap, and won’t use it as a weapon to attack others with,” Jason says, reaching for the bowl of roasted potatoes.

Damian tsks, “I would have had no need to attack anyone had certain people at this table kept their mouths in check.”

Peter has no idea what that’s about, but when Alfred nods at Jason, and leaves the room, he feels like he can finally breathe. He turns back toward the table, holding Robin firmly in his lap. Jason spoons out roasted potatoes on his plate and then Peter’s, passing the bowl to Tim. Dick taps Peter on the shoulder, drawing his attention, “Do you want green beans, Pete?”

He’s about to shake his head when Jason says, “Yes.”

Dick drops a spoonful onto his plate, placing the bowl back on the table. Peter glares at Jason, “I don’t want green beans!”

Jason shrugs, “Didn’t ask.”

“Dick did! And I was gonna say no!”

“‘M not Dick, baby spider, now am I? And you need to eat your vegetables. Weren’t you just complaining that I only feed you fast food?”

Peter wants to smash his plate against Jason’s stupid smirky face, but then he looks at Jason’s plate, and, “You don’t even have any green beans on your plate!”

He hates that smug look on Jason’s face, “Well, I don’t know if you can see, but I’m already big and strong. Eat your greens and maybe you’ll grow from being a teeny tiny baby spider to a medium sized spider.”

“I’m going to bite you so fucking hard after lunch,” Peter promises, scowling at Jason.

The man raises his eyebrows, “Oh? Why not right now, kiddo?”

Peter hisses, “Because I have manners, you fucking asshole.”

Jason snorts, eyeing him, “Yeah… Manners. Sure.”

“Jay, stop antagonizing Peter,” Dick says, handing a plate of roasted chicken down to him. Jason takes the plate, sticking his tongue out at Dick in the process. He loads Peter’s plate with chicken, and puts some on his own, shoving the plate into Tim’s waiting hands. “I’m not antagonizing him! He literally just threatened to bite me! Did you not hear that?”

Duke takes a drink of his soda, placing the cup down gently, and says, “You also made fun of his size. Actually, if we really think about it, you totally started it.”

“Yeah, Peter’s totally innocent, always and forever,” Steph says, winking at Peter.

He beams at her, and kicks Jason’s shin from under the table, “See? I’m innocent!”

Jason grunts, “The little shit just kicked me!” He says, gesturing at Dick wildly. Peter widens his eyes, dropping his mouth open, whipping around to look at Dick. He hopes he’s giving off “innocent little kid” vibes and not “I just kicked the shit out of this guy” vibes. Dick looks down at Peter, and then at Jason, frowning.

“Can you just eat your lunch, Jason?”

Jason guffaws, and Peter smiles at him. He leans down to whisper in Peter’s ear, “Remember who you have to go home with, kid.”

Okay, yeah, good point. But another good point is, “Remember I’m stronger than you.”

Peter smiles with his teeth, elongating his neck a little, though he didn’t really think about it. Like instinct. 

“Okay, that’s fucking terrifying,” Duke says.

Peter blinks, takes a bite of his chicken, and looks at Duke. “Don’t worry. I only bite Jason.”

Duke nods, “Sounds fair to me, kid,” and goes back to eating. Jason looks at the people at the table, says, “You’re all assholes,” And angrily stabs at his chicken.

When Peter looks up at the others at the table, he sees Bruce smiling freely at everyone there. It’s startling to see, and when Bruce’s eyes find Peter’s, he can’t help but smile back. Peter has no fucking idea what went on between him and Jason, but he guesses Bruce isn’t all bad. 

Just a little bad.

Peter can handle a little bad. 

And, despite Dick’s stupid wording, Alfred’s food is yummy. So, yeah, Peter smiles at Bruce, and enjoys the rest of lunch. 

They’re in what Peter has decided must be the game room. It has a nice TV, meaning it's modern and doesn’t have a big back on it like the ones Jason has. There’s multiple consoles by the TV, with one that Peter doesn’t recognize at all. The built-in shelves around the TV have board games, books, and movies. There’s even a popcorn machine in the corner! And a drinks bar!

The others enter and immediately find somewhere to sit. It’s quick and efficient, obviously everybody has unassigned assigned seats, because Duke grabs Tim’s arm and bodily tosses him to the floor when he attempts to sit in a comfy looking armchair by the windows. “My spot, stupid,” Duke says, falling into the chair. 

Tim grunts as he pushes himself off the floor, flips Duke off, and then goes to the three-seater sofa, sitting by Steph, sandwiching her between him and Cass. Dick is in the armchair adjacent to Duke’s, legs hanging over the side, eyes already slipping closed. Jason crawls onto the arm of the sofa (after taking his shoes off), and digs his feet underneath Tim’s legs, who just glares at him. 

Babs is between Duke and Dick’s chairs, picking up a book that was on the windowsill. She opens it to a page that’s been bookmarked, and begins reading.

Bruce is in a corner, where he can see the entire room, but nobody can really see him. Must be his brooding corner, Peter decides. He ignores the giant man, and finds Damian already in a big blue bean bag chair, situated beside Dick’s chair. There’s another bean bag chair, just as big but yellow, and it’s right beside Damian’s. 

It’s also the only open spot, unless he copies Jason and sits on the arm of the sofa, by Cass. 

But…

Damian.

The guy looks up at Peter, somehow managing to look intimidating even though he’s slowly sinking farther and farther into the plushy bean bag. “Sit, Peter,” He commands, gesturing to the yellow bean bag. Peter drops down, collapsing into the bag. He kicks his shoes off, tucking them against the bean bag, and then curls his body up. 

Peter sets his Robin up, almost like the figure is sitting between him and Damian. Damian eyes it, almost in contempt, “My suit has changed since these went into production.”

He looks at the figure, wondering what changed. The videos he saw were taken in the dark, and he obviously didn’t get to see Robin’s entire suit. He should’ve looked harder at all the suits that were on display down in the Batcave. But they might not have even been current suits. Tony displayed all of his suits, retired and ones still in use. He started doing it to Peter’s, once he started making so many. 

Peter made it a point to keep the first suit Tony gave him, though.

That one was in a special box in Peter’s closet, right next to the box where he shoved his parents' things, and eventually Uncle Ben’s. 

“Do you update your suit frequently?” Peter asked, lifting his Robin’s arm so his sword crossed over his body. 

“Yes. Well, Drake updates them whenever he gets an idea.”

Peter’s brows crinkles, “Why do you call him that?”

“Call him what? Drake?”

Peter nods. Damian looks over, eyeing Tim, who was braiding one side of Steph’s hair while Cass did the other. “It is his last name. Just as Todd is Jason’s last name. So I address them as such.”

O…Kay.

“You don’t call me by my last name,” Peter says, head cocked to the side.

There’s a beat of silence, something unknown passes through Damian’s eyes as he looks back at Peter, and then at his Robin, “No, I do not.”

Not a man of many words, Peter thinks.

“How old are you?” He asks, deciding to drop the name thing.

“I am thirteen-years-old.”

Okay, pretty fucking unfair that this guy is thirteen and is definitely taller than Peter is at his real age of sixteen. What the fuck? Maybe the multiversal jumping will give him a growth spurt when he returns to his universe. 

Oh shit.

What if he returns as a ten-year-old?

But that wouldn’t happen. He’s only ten here because he got slammed into somebody else’s body. He should return to his own (older) body. Right? 

If there’s a body to go back to.

What kind of thought is that?!

Of course there’s a body to go back to! What did Peter think happened to him? Those reports may be scarce, according to Tim, but those Morlocks (whoever the fuck they are) brought him here. His body just got left behind. His body’s waiting for him. It has to be.

What if Tony did find him already, and that’s why he hasn’t been rescued? 

Peter’s soulless body. 

They’d think he was dead. They’d bury him, right next to his parents and Uncle Ben. There’d be no reason for Tony to look any further into it. He’d help Aunt May pay for the funeral, and then move on with his billionaire life. 

So what happens when Constantine sends him back to his universe? If he is buried, is he going to be sent back to his body in his casket?! He’d have to dig his way out, he guesses, which would just be so totally awesome, yeah, Peter can’t fucking wait to do that. 

“How old are you?” Damian asks, though Peter already knows he knows. Probably just being polite, he assumes. “Ten,” He answers, pulling his Robin down to his chest. Damian watches the whole thing. 

“When did you become Robin?” Peter asks, knowing Damian’s been Robin for a while. He fights too well, Peter saw that in the videos. Did he start at ten? Younger?

“I was ten when I first became Robin. It was also when I came to live with my father.”

Peter looks up at him, “Who did you live with before?”

He didn’t want to assume . Damian could’ve lived with a grandparent! Or an aunt, like Peter. But Damian said, “My mother and grandfather.”

He nodded, “I lived with my mom and dad until I was six, then I went to live with my Uncle Ben and Aunt May.”

“Why did you go to your aunt and uncle?” Damian asks, eyebrows drawn together. Peter had kind of figured that Jason would have told all of them about his parents. Or at least Tim would have. He made the dead parents joke, after all. Maybe they did and Damian wanted him to say it, like he made him say his age. 

“They died in a plane crash. And then my Uncle Ben got shot. So now it’s just my Aunt May and me.”

He’s said it enough times to various different people that his tragic backstory just drops from his mouth like it’s nothing. He used to struggle with it, obviously, but after saying it over and over again it just became similar to saying his name or his favorite color. 

“I’m sorry about your family,” Damian said, head bowed, “My mother and grandfather are still alive.”

He doesn’t say it cruelly, just stating a fact. He reminds Peter so much of MJ, and that makes him just miss her a shit ton more. Before Peter can ask Damian about his mom, and what she’s like, Alfred enters the room with Peter’s backpack. 

“Here is your bag, young master Peter,” The man states, lowering himself to hand the bag over.

Peter takes it with a smile, “Thank you, Alfred!”

He places the bag by his shoes, turning back to Damian, “How come you use a sword?”

Peter doesn’t really know why he asked, but his bag reminded him of his tablet, which reminded him of his Robin videos, which reminded him of seeing Robin fighting with a sword.

“Hm,” Damian says at first, thinking. He tilts his head, blinks a few times, and continues, “I was trained to use a sword by the League of Assassins.”

And…

That wasn’t exactly what Peter expected to hear. “They trained you?”

A single nod. “My grandfather is the leader of the League, my mother is a high-ranking member. They trained me.”

Sounds like Hydra…

Just without all the Nazi stuff. 

Or… Shit, are there Nazis in the League too? “Are they Nazis?”

His question startles Damian, whose eyes widen, “No! My mother is not a Nazi!”

Okay, yeah, Peter could have worded that a little better. But judging by Damian’s reaction, he’s safe to assume the League isn’t like that . Cool cool cool.

“Why would you ask something like that?” Damian demands. 

Peter feels eyes on him, and he doesn’t have to look around to know the others are watching (and listening). Their voices had gotten louder, especially when Peter asked about the Nazi thing. “Um,” He starts, moving his Robin’s free hand so it looks like he’s waving at Peter, “There’s this group of people in my universe, called Hydra. They train people to be assassins, but they’re definitely Nazis.”

“They sound like giant losers,” Duke says, head leaned backward over the chair, staring up at the ceiling.

Peter nods, “They are. The Avengers and SHIELD have been working to dismantle them for years, but they have this saying… ‘Cut off one head, two more take its place’.”

Damian tuts, “And your Avengers are similar to the Justice League?”

Peter nods, “Yeah. Really similar, actually. I mean, Iron Man is Tony Stark, who’s this billionaire genius that makes his suits to help the Avengers. That’s like Bruce, right?”

Before anyone can give him an affirmative, Tim drops Steph’s hair, finished braiding, and says, “How do you know who Iron Man is?”

“After Tony became Iron Man he basically held a press conference where he announced that he was Iron Man.”

It was crazy . Peter was already a fan of Tony Stark, and then he became a fan of Iron Man. So to find out they were the same person? Peter went a little feral in his living room that day. 

“What a profoundly stupid thing to do,” Damian says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Painting a target over himself. For what? More recognition?”

Peter… Didn’t really know the exact reason why Tony admitted he was Iron Man. He just thought it was badass when he was a kid. Then he became Spider-Man and thought it was fucking terrifying. “Yeah, his house was blown up a little after that, so it was pretty dangerous.”

Steph flings her newly done braids off her shoulder, “God, can you imagine Bruce holding a press conference and declaring he’s Batman? The media would go insane!”

Peter looks over at the brooding corner, and he can’t imagine that man telling the world who he is. That man that’s standing statue still in the corner watching his children in the room before him with unblinking eyes. 

“What about vigilantes? Not the big name guys, but people like us. What are they like?” Duke asks, adjusting himself so he’s sitting up, crossing his legs on the chair. 

Peter’s quiet for a moment, “Well, I don’t think any of you exist in my universe, because I’m almost 99% sure Gotham doesn’t exist in my universe.”

Steph boos, giving two thumbs down, which makes Peter smile. 

“But, in New York there’s a few vigilantes that take care of the different boroughs. Daredevil claims Hell’s Kitchen, and he’s pretty touchy about others entering his area. The Defenders cover Harlem. Punisher seems to be all over the city, don’t know how, so don’t ask. Same for Deadpool, but he’s also a mercenary, so I don’t know if he really counts as a vigilante?” Peter ponders, head tilting to the side. 

He thinks Wade doesn’t consider himself a vigilante. He’s never actually asked. He makes a mental note to ask him, next time he sees the guy.

“And… Spider-Man does most of his work in Queens.”

That gets Tim’s attention, who looks at him with very alert eyes. “Spider-Man?”

Jason’s watching him, and there’s a minute nod of his head that Peter takes as his go ahead. So he clears his throat, uncurls just a little bit, and looks at Tim. “Yeah. Spider-Man. He can stick to walls, has enhanced hearing, and is really strong.” Peter can tell Tim gets it, eyes blowing wide, but Peter keeps going, “He’s called Spider-Man because he’s technically part spider. It happened after he got bit by a radioactive spider on a school field trip.”

And everyone is alert. 

Babs closes her book with a thud, Dick is no longer feigning sleep, and Bruce has exited his brooding corner and is now hovering behind Jason. Cass watches him, and for a moment, she smiles, before she stops and says, “Spider-Man,” pointing at Peter.

He nods, surprisingly not feeling scared about telling a bunch of essential strangers his secret identity. He feels better, actually. Like a weight off his shoulders. Or like he can actually be Peter. It’s how he feels around Tony, and Aunt May. MJ and Ned. He’s Peter and Spider-Man with them. There’s no hiding. 

“Jay, you knew?” Dick asks, staring at Jason with a betrayed look on his face.

“I just found out this morning, Dickwad.”

Dick continues staring at Jason, and Peter can tell they’re obviously having a silent conversation that Peter doesn’t even care to try to understand. 

“Spider- Man ?” Steph asks, eyebrow arching.

Peter sighs, looking up at the ceiling and wishing he could crawl away. “One day I’ll be a man,” He says decidedly.

“Sure, sure,” Steph says quietly, making a weird face at Duke. 

Peter doesn’t like how all these guys can just look at each other and know what they’re saying. He actually really fucking hates it. Mostly because it reminds him of how he and Ned can just look at each other and know what the other is thinking. He really misses Ned. 

“You go out as Spider-Man?” Bruce asks, voice deep. 

He’s standing directly behind Jason, and Peter watches as Jason jumps, turning around and glaring at Bruce. Bruce doesn’t look at him, though, eyes locked on Peter. He shifts a little in his bean bag, very much disliking the undivided attention. But he nods anyway, “I need to.”

Jason hops off the armrest, still glaring, and motions for Peter to scoot over. Peter does, while grumbling, and Jason plops himself down on the bean bag with Peter. Bruce looks pained, and Peter understands Jason was just wanting farther away from him. 

He’s just now realizing that Jason’s never let himself get too close to Bruce. 

Hm.

“Why do you need to?” Damian asks, voice softer than Bruce’s. 

“My Uncle Ben was shot, remember? It was my fault. I snuck out, went to a corner store. I had my powers by then and I walked by this guy in an alley, and he was… He was mugging some other guy. I didn’t even do anything, just went into the store. But I could’ve done something! I was definitely stronger than him!”

Jason throws an arm around Peter, drawing him in. He takes a deep breath, enjoying the warmth that Jason provides, “Uncle Ben came and got me. He wasn’t even really mad, just worried. But that guy, from the alley, came into the store. He started waving his gun around, and Uncle Ben was a cop so of course he stepped up to try to help. He was always braver than I ever was.”

Peter blinks a few times, “He shot Uncle Ben and then left. Didn’t even take anything from the store. Uncle Ben died a few minutes later.”

The silence is all consuming in the room. Peter focuses on Jason’s heartbeat so he doesn’t have to hear the quiet. 

“So, I need to be Spider-Man. Have to, really. I could’ve stopped that guy the moment I saw him in the alley, but I didn’t, and that’s on me forever. Uncle Ben’s death is on me. I don’t want anybody else to die if I can save them.”

Peter finishes off his spiel, basically curled into Jason’s side. He’s enjoying how touchy Jason’s been since the library. And he’s making himself feel better about it by reminding himself he didn’t initiate every time they touched. Jason decided to come and sit with him! 

Bruce stalks closer, and Peter feels the way Jason’s entire body tenses the closer Bruce gets. “Peter,” Bruce kneels in front of him, one knee down, the other he uses to rest his hands on, “You are not responsible for your uncle’s death. That man, the one from the alley, made his choices that night. You cannot take on the guilt from the actions someone else committed.”

This sounds like a talk Bruce has had many times, just judging by the way he already had the little speech ready, and how the others seem to tune him out. Peter’s had this same talk with Tony, and Aunt May, but it doesn’t change his mind. He isn’t responsible for the guy shooting Uncle Ben, he knows that. But he’s responsible for the guy even being able to make that choice. If Peter had made better choices along the way, everything would have been different. 

Everything. 

“Who do you patrol with?” Bruce asks, still kneeling.

And, oh, Peter already knows this big guy isn’t going to like this one. He grimaces, looking up at Jason who is openly curious about the answer. “Uh, no one?” 

There’s a cacophony of noises, most coalescing into one noise of what the fuck , before Damian’s voice is heard over all the others, “You have no one that you work with?”

Peter shakes his head, looking away from everyone in favor of focusing on his Robin. 

“You just go out by yourself?” Duke asks, having moved from his chair to Dick’s armrest, so he’s much closer to them. 

“Well, yeah. Who would I go with?”

Steph pouts, looking actually distraught, “You should always have someone, Peter. We patrol with each other all the time. Even if we’re technically alone, we still have our comms open so we can talk to each other, and Babs is always on our line.”

Oh. That sounds… Kind of nice, actually. 

Peter knows Tony would drop everything and come to him if he asked, but he never does. Mostly because the one time he did ask Tony for help, the man ignored him pretty thoroughly. And then took away his suit. So, yeah, Peter’s just done a lot of solo stuff from then on. 

He’s asked Daredevil for help before, but that was after swinging around the city searching for him. Deadpool seems to know when Peter wants him around, and he finds Peter, but still. He doesn’t have a comm that’s always on, doesn’t have a… Team waiting in the background. 

Is that his fault?

The Fantastic Four have offered to work with him, but Peter always took it as temporary. He wasn’t a part of them, obviously. And he was never going to be an Avenger. Didn’t really want to be, either. 

He looks up at Steph, smiling a little, “I have a way to ask Tony for help. Iron Man, remember? I just… He’s an Avenger. He doesn’t do low level stuff. I don’t mind working alone. Plus I know I can ask Daredevil for help.”

Babs speaks up, finally, “It’s less about not minding working alone, kiddo, and more about being safe. Damian also likes working alone, but even he knows he’s safer with Bruce.”

Damian tuts, but a harsh look from Babs and he says, “She is correct, Peter. I am perfectly capable when working independently, but I can admit I am more efficient when working with my father.”

Bruce openly smiles at Damian, and Damian resolutely does not look at the man. Peter finds Bruce’s relationship with these people so odd. 

“I don’t know who I could do that with back home. Maybe the Fantastic Four, but they’re called the Fantastic Four for a reason.”

His joke falls flat, and Peter just sighs, deflating farther into Jason’s side. Jason, who’s been really fucking quiet through  all of this. That’s odd, right? Really odd. Peter chances a peek at him, but he’s staring straight ahead. Not at Bruce, but at the wall of shelves on the other side of the room. He looks like he’s not really here, mind far away. 

“Maybe Tony can help you find a team,” Bruce says.

Peter thinks Tony would rather Peter give up being Spider-Man entirely than help him find a team. He’d call it enabling. But he’s not going to say that to Bruce. 

The tension in the room is cut when Alfred enters holding two plates of cookies. He sets them both down on the coffee table in front of the sofa, standing and observing everyone in the room. He arches an eyebrow at Bruce on the floor, to which Bruce hurriedly stands, straightening his clothes. 

“There is a plate of chocolate chip cookies, and frosted oatmeal. Do enjoy.”

He eyes all of them again, then turns and walks out of the room. 

Steph snatches three chocolate chip cookies from the tray, handing one to Cass. Tim grabs a frosted oatmeal cookie. Duke jumps off the arm chair, grabs two chocolate chip and two oatmeal, walking back and handing the oatmeal to Babs. Dick whines, “Why didn’t you grab me any, Duke?”

Duke knocks Dick upside the head, “Go get your own, lazy ass.”

Damian stands, motioning for Dick to stay seated, and picks up two chocolate chip cookies. One for him, and one for Dick. Dick smiles goofily at Damian, “Thank you, Dami!”

Jason and Peter don’t move. Peter’s afraid if he gets up Jason will stop zoning out and realize everything that’s been said. He doesn’t really want Jason to go nutty about everything. So he stays very, very still, thinking maybe if he doesn’t move, Jason’ll be like a Tyrannosaurus rex and won’t be able to see him. 

Tim picks up a cookie and throws it at Jason’s head, destroying Peter’s plan entirely. 

The cookie, oatmeal, falls to Jason’s lap and the man shakes his head, as if leaving a trance. “What the fuck, Replacement?”

Tim shrugs, “You looked like you could use a cookie.”

Jason grunts, picking the cookie up and shoving the entire thing in his mouth. Peter curls his lip, “Can you even taste it eating it that way?”

As if in response, Jason opens his mouth to show off the half-chewed cookie in his mouth. Peter makes a eugh sound, shoving Jason’s face away from him. Jason finally closes his mouth, swallowing the cookie, and tells Tim, “Bring a cookie for Peter, asshole.”

Tim flips him off, but does pick up two of each cookie, handing them to Peter. “Thank you, Tim,” Peter says, biting into the chocolate chip and feeling like he’s died (again) and gone to heaven (first time). Jason smiles at him, “Yeah, Alfred’s cookies are the fucking best.”

Duke finishes his, heading over to the TV, “Wanna play Eternal Combat?” He asks, looking at Tim. 

“Hell yeah, I call dibs on Madam Lo! She’s badass.”

Steph jumps up, “I play loser!”

Babs moves out of her window spot, book returned to the windowsill, “I have to meet my dad for a late dinner, so I need to head off to the library to get some work done. Talk to most of you tonight! Have a good night, Peter!”

They all bid Babs a goodnight, most saying see you later, and Peter hears Alfred meeting her in the hallway, both heading to the garage. Focusing back on the room he’s in, he watches Tim and Duke play a game that looks really fucking similar to Mortal Combat, except everything’s just… Slightly off. Like if Peter had been asked to recreate the game from memory and wasn’t allowed to double check anything.

“What console is that?” Peter asks Steph, who’s standing by the bean bags as she jeers at Tim.

“What? It’s a Ybox. Do you not have these in your universe?”

Peter laughs, shaking his head, “No, we have an Xbox.”

She gives him a puzzled look, “That doesn’t sound right.”

Duke ends up losing, which has Tim yelling in victory. “Madam Lo remains undefeated!” Steph simply yanks the controller (which is shaped like a Y, what the fuck?) out of Tim’s hands, and literally shoves him out of the way, “My turn!” She yells, going back to the character screen.

Tim grumbles as he crawls back to the sofa, sitting by Cass who offers him a tiny thumbs up. He smiles at her, “Thanks, Cass. I tried my best.”

Damian stands, states, “I am going to care for the animals,” And walks out of the room without waiting for a response. Peter watches him go, wondering about the animals. He really wants to see that cow he heard earlier. 

Jason pokes him in the side, drawing his attention away from the game, “Wanna go?”

Peter nods, “I wanna read the book Babs gave me.”

Jason smiles at him, and stands. He heads over to his shoes, and Peter begins slipping his own back on. He stands, swinging his backpack onto his back, and waits for Jason to finish lacing his boots.

“Leaving?” Cass asks, drawing attention to them.

Jason grunts, “Yeah, got stuff to do. Dickie, wanna babysit later?”

Dick honest to god squealed. Peter looked at him in disgust, then turned to Jason with a pleading look in his eyes. Jason shrugs, helpless, “It’s either Dick watches you, or you hang here for tonight.”

Peter doesn’t really like either of those options. Well, not true, he wouldn’t necessarily mind hanging at the manor tonight. He’d get to see the animals, and eat more of Alfred’s food. He’d probably get a chance to play the various games in the room. 

The baby part of himself whispers that he doesn’t have his nightlight here. How can he sleep without his nightlight? And he doesn’t have his pyjamas. His pyjamas. He doesn’t want to borrow anybody else’s, he wants to wear the clothes Tim bought him. 

“Dick can watch me,” He grumbles, glaring at the floor. 

Another squeal comes from Dick, “Oh, Peter, we’ll have fun, I promise!”

Peter doubts that. 

He really fucking doubts that. 

“Can we go?” 

Jason laughs at the gruffness, ruffling his hair. Peter swats at his hand, but Jason yanks it back before Peter can truly hit him. “See ya guys,” Jason says, heading for the door. Steph, Duke, and Tim all yell goodbyes to Jason and Peter, and Cass waves. Dick follows them out, much to Peter’s disappointment. 

“He said later , Dick, you don’t have to follow us now,” Peter hisses at the man behind them. 

Jason snorts, “Lay off him, Pete.”

Dick was pouting at Peter’s words, and says, “C’mon, Peter, I’m in a serious competition here! I have to be the best uncle!”

Pause.

Peter stops moving entirely, causing Dick to run into him. Peter doesn’t even move, but Dick stumbles backwards. Jason whips around to look at the stupid man, eyes wide, mouth screwed up. “What the fuck, Dick?”

Dick, for his part, just looks confused. Peter turns around to stare at the guy, while Jason is pinching the bridge of his nose. “What’d I say?” Dick asked, dumbfounded. 

Before Jason can say anything, Peter speaks, “I don’t have an uncle. He’s dead, remember? So there’s no one to compete with.”

“Oh… I didn’t mean- Peter, I’m sorry-”

He interrupts Dick, rolling his eyes, “Plus, to be an uncle, I’d have to have a dad. And, uh, that one’s dead too.”

Dick winces, eyes glancing over at Jason quickly before reverting back to Peter. Why’d he look at Jason? Peter wonders. Jason’s still pinching his nose, eyes squeezed close, likely willing himself to be anywhere else. That’s what Peter’s willing for himself at least. 

“Ignore Dick, Peter. He’s kind of a fucking moron,” Jason nearly growls out the last part, eyes opening to glare at Dick.

Dick throws his hands up, huffing, “I said I was sorry! It was just a joke, Pete, and apparently not a funny one.” He looks genuinely upset admitting his joke wasn’t funny, or maybe he’s upset at something else. Peter doesn’t really care either way. 

They start walking again, but not before Jason half-heartedly punches Dick in the shoulder. Dick fake collapses, clutching his shoulder, and Jason grips Dick by the collar of his shirt and hauls him upright. “Stop acting like a baby, Dickie, or else I’ll get Tim to come babysit you and Peter both.”

Dick straightens then, dusting himself off. When he catches Peter watching him, he throws a happy little smile at them, which Peter ignores in favor of heading into the garage.

When Peter hops on the bike, Jason settles the helmet over his head, and then does the same for himself. He looks at Dick, says, “Be at mine by eight,” And then gets on the bike. When it starts, it sounds like a roar, echoing a bit in the large garage. Dick mock salutes, and then relaxes as he waves bye to them.

Peter wraps his arms around Jason, and watches as the greenery and shrubs of the manor grounds turn into concrete and other fancy houses. That turns into tall buildings and even more concrete until it finally gives way to crumbling apartments and abandoned warehouses. 

Crime Alley really does live up to its name, given the fact that as soon as they entered the supposed streets that made up the alley, Peter’s senses went absolutely wild.

He got too used to the peace that the manor offered. 

He’ll get used to it, like he got used to going back to Queens after leaving the tower. Though Queens was never… This intense. And the tower was never as nice as the manor had felt, for the short time Peter had been there.

His body is mostly on autopilot as Peter follows Jason into the apartment, and it’s not until Jason snaps his fingers in front of his face that Peter focuses back on the present. “Sorry. Everything’s… Loud here. I have to get used to it again.”

Jason makes a face, “You could’ve stayed at the manor, kid. I would’ve just picked ya up in the morning, after I finished.”

This time Peter makes a face, and he can tell he’s mimicking Jason just by the way the man nearly smiles at him, “I didn’t have my nightlight,” He begrudgingly says, hating how he had to admit that stupid thing. 

Jason’s face goes slack for a moment, and then he nods. He looks around the living room, and then glances at the bedroom. “Next time we’ll take it with us. Just in case, yeah?”

He chews on his lower lip, rolling it between his teeth, and shrugs. 

“What will Damian say?”

“Is that what you’re all bent out of shape about? Damian’s not gonna care if ya have a damn nightlight, Peter, I promise.”

Peter starts twisting his fingers around each other, not totally buying it. If he was thirteen, yeah, he wouldn’t care if Ned had a nightlight. But that’s because he also had a nightlight! Damian just seems so… Cool. He’s Robin! He carries a fucking sword! Jason groans, shaking his head, muttering, “Was it this hard for Bruce?” Before he drags Peter to sit down on the couch with him. Jason rubs at his temples, dislodging pieces of his hair so his white streak falls in front of his face. 

“Peter, I know to you Damian’s this cool person, but he’s just as fucking dorky as you,” Okay, rude way to start a pep talk, “He cares more about animals than he does people, and he’d rather be drawing or painting than talking.” Jason looks at him, eyes wide, almost pleading with him to understand. “He won’t fucking care if you have a nightlight. And if he does, well, you could easily kick his ass.”

Now that is more like a pep talk. Peter puffs his chest out a little, “I am stronger, aren’t I?”

Jason slaps his hand to his face, “Is that really all you got from what I said?”

Peter hums, ignoring Jason, “Am I the strongest person you know?”

He’s always liked being strong. When Tony wanted to test him and he ended up being exponentially stronger than Captain America, Peter didn’t shut the fuck up about it for weeks. He still hasn’t shut the fuck up about it, honestly. 

“No,” Jason states, not even bothering to elaborate. 

Peter pouts. “Who’s stronger than me? Huh? Name ‘em!”

“Jesus, I’m not naming any names since it sounds like you’re gonna go out and fight ‘em,” Jason answers, moving off the couch and heading into the kitchen. He starts cleaning the dishes from the sink, basically ignoring Peter. 

“I won’t fight them, I swear! It’s Superman, huh? When I read about him, the book said he was pretty strong.”

Peter follows after Jason, grabbing a dish towel so he can start drying the dishes after Jason washes them. He smiles down at Peter, and says, “Yeah, Superman’s the strongest guy I know. As far as I know, nobody’s been able to find something that guy can’t lift. He’s like… Infinitely strong.”

Oh.

Well that’s kind of scary. 

Peter purses his lips, setting the plate down very carefully as he grabs another one. They work in silence for a few minutes, and Peter doesn’t know what Jason’s thinking about but he’s thinking about if he could beat Superman in a fight. Obviously not in a one on one battle using just their strength, but if Peter could use all his abilities. But, then… Superman would get to use all his powers too. 

In that book Peter was reading, it said Superman can shoot lasers out of his fucking eyes.

“So Superman would easily kill me in a fight,” Peter states, taking a break from drying to put up the dishes he had finished. 

Jason drops the cup in his hands, the water from the sink splashing onto his shirt as it falls. “What the fuck, Peter?”

Peter glares at the cabinet above him, not quite tall enough to be able to put the plates away. “I was just thinking about if Superman and I got into a fight. He’d win for sure, and I’d be lasered into the ground. Right?”

Jason takes a break from washing, reaching around and taking the plates from Peter to put them away. This does not make him happy, and he hisses as Jason goes back to the sink. “Superman would never fight you, Peter.”

A roll of his eyes, because duh , “I know that, stupid. He seems like the Captain America type and Captain America only fought me because he kinda had to. It was just, like, a hypothetical. Ever heard of those?”

There’s a wounded sound from Jason, “I know what a hypothetical is, asshole. What the fuck do you mean Captain America fought you?” He’s not facing the sink anymore, turning around to look Peter straight on. His hands are on his hips, the dish towel Peter had thrown over his shoulder. He looks like… A dad. Peter’s lip curls at the thought.

“What the fuck do you mean Captain America fought you?” Jason asks again, looking more agitated. 

Peter shrugs, “It wasn’t even a big deal, stupid head,” He says, copying Jason’s pose and putting his hands on his hips, “He was really fighting with Tony. I just kinda got dragged into the mess. But Steve didn’t use his full strength, and neither did I. So: not a big deal.”

“Did you just call me stupid head?”

He rolls his eyes, ignoring Jason’s dumb look on his face, and heads to the sink to wash the rest of the dishes that Jason’s ignoring. “Yeah, because you’re being a stupid head.”

Jason groans, yanking the dish towel off his shoulder as he dries the dishes Peter washes. Again, a few minutes of silence, and by the time either speak the dishes are done and put away. They’re still standing in the kitchen, and Jason says, “How’d you get involved?”

Huh?

“With the fight,” Jason explains, “If it was between Tony and Captain America, how’d you get involved?”

By force, Peter thinks. He’s still mad at Tony for it all. He hadn’t wanted to go to fucking Germany, but Tony blackmailed him just hard enough that he went anyway. Peter and Tony had never talked about it, about how they first met. It was easier to bounce around it. 

Tony got a little better with him after the Vulture incident. And then got better again when Electro nearly killed him a few weeks later. Safe to say, the jumps in their relationship are really thanks to the baddies in New York that have a death wish against Spider-Man. Tony and Peter have never been as close as they are now, after Vulture, and Electro, and Rhino. 

“Peter?” Jason prods, waiting for an answer.

“Tony had me fight,” He says, not looking at Jason, already knowing he’s going to go a little stupid with what Peter just said. Well, he’s already stupid, so stupid er .

“ Had you fight?”

Yep, going a little stupider.

Peter looks up, sees those glowing green eyes, and thinks, yep, he’s fucked. His first instinct is to run, hide under the bed before Jason can yell, but he also doesn’t want to make Jason feel bad. So he stays, staring up at those eyes, and waiting for Jason to say something.

“Tony forced you to fight?” Jason asks, voice low.

Okay, so Peter used the word force earlier, but coming from Jason’s mouth it sounds like a curse. “I could’ve said no!” Peter defends.

He did say no, didn’t he? What’d Tony do? Ignore him, made fun of him for saying he had homework, and then told him he’d tell Aunt May about Spider-Man. Peter couldn’t really say no after that , could he?

Jason just watches him, “You should have,” He says, eyes narrowed, “You should have said no, and ya know what? He never should have even asked you.”

Peter thinks Jason’s right, but he can’t let Jason know that. So instead he just walks away, pulling the book Babs got him out of his back and throwing himself in his designated corner on the floor. He yanks the cover open, way too hard, wincing as he hears the ripping sound. There’s no obvious rips, thank god, but Peter notes the cover is way looser than it was before. Like one wrong move and the entire thing is going to rip off. 

He decides to ignore it, promises to be more careful, and starts flipping through the pages. He stops when he gets to the section on the vigilantes, the first chapter just the word BATMAN written in the biggest font Peter’s ever seen. 

The more he reads the more Batman does sound like Tony. Words like “self-made Super Hero” and “arsenal of technology” stick out to him. It talks about his no killing rule, which Peter appreciates, and how he’s taken on like a fucking army of Robins. 

Wait a minute.

“There’s been more than one Robin?” Peter asks, looking up at Jason who has come to sit and brood on the couch.

“Damian’s the fifth one,” Jason grunts, staring out the window at the gloomy Gotham sky.

Fifth?! He’s gone through five sidekicks? “What happened to the others?”

“You met them already, kid.”

Huh?

Wait.

“You guys were Robin?” Peter asks, mouth falling open as Jason nods. He tries to picture Jason in the same outfit as Damian wears as Robin but it doesn’t mix in his head. “So when you guys grow up you just, like, choose your own adult vigilante name?”

Jason looks very uncomfortable suddenly, adjusting himself, eyebrows furrowed. “Not really. More like… I don’t know, Peter, it’s not about growing out of the role. It’s more about growing away from Bruce.”

Oh. So Peter stepped right back into that whole mess. Cool. He really needs to stop bringing up Bruce related things around Jason. 

“Was Dick Robin?” 

Jason nods, and before Peter can ask, he says, “I was Robin after him. Then Tim got the title after I died. Then Duke, and finally Damian.”

Hold the fucking phone.

“You were Robin when you died?” Peter whispered, actually horrified. 

How young was Jason when he died? Jason sighs, fist squeezed together, “Yeah, I was.”

Okay, Peter’s going to stop asking questions now. He returns to looking at his book, flipping past Batman’s chapter and going to Nightwing’s. 

Apparently the guy mainly operated out of Bludhaven, but was often seen milling about Gotham every now and again. He’s well-known for his acrobatic skills, and Peter would very much like to see them in person. He wonders if Dick would show him anything later tonight. 

Nightwing also seemed to lean more towards Batman’s no killing rule.

The next was about Red Hood. It wasn’t as long as Batman’s or Nightwing’s. It also seemed like whoever wrote it was scared of Red Hood, because everything was really fucking vague and nondescript. His territory is Crime Alley (what was once Park Row, isn’t that interesting?), and he’s pretty fucking territorial. None of the other Batfamily members are welcome in Crime Alley. 

Oh yeah, they fucking call them the Batfamily. 

Wild.

“Red Hood kills people?” Peter asks, already knowing the answer.

He remembers the bodies left behind at that base Jason found him in. Some were alive, but some… Weren’t. Jason swallowed, hard, “When necessary.”

What does Jason deem as necessary? Is that why Bruce and Jason have so many issues? Jason’s pro killing people, and Bruce isn’t. Something icky settles in his belly, and Peter chews on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t kill people,” Peter says, not looking up from his book.

“And I would never want you to.”

“Not even bad people,” He whispers, locking eyes with Jason now. 

Green meeting green. 

“That’s good, Pete. I don’t want you to hurt anybody, bad or not.”

“Then why do you do it?” 

Jason looks away from him, rubbing his hands on his pants, digging his fingers into his knees. “Because for some people, kid, it’s the only way to stop them from hurting others.”

Peter isn’t so sure he agrees with that , but he can tell Jason really believes it. He’s also sure Bruce and Jason have already had conversations about this. Maybe even fights. Peter doesn’t want to fight with Jason, so he doesn’t. He goes back to his book, moving on to the pages about Red Robin. 

By the time Dick came over, Peter was in his (again, his! ) pyjamas after taking a shower. Jason and him had already had dinner, and Jason was basically suited up. Well, he didn’t have his helmet on, but he had his hoodie and cowl on. Dick threw the door open a few minutes after Peter told Jason he was on his way up, and yelled, “I’m here!”

Peter winced, and Jason rolled his eyes.

“You’re late,” Is all Jason said.

Dick gasped, looking down at his watch, “By two minutes!”

Jason shrugged, tossing his bag over his bag, “Still late, Dickie.” Dick stuck his tongue out at Jason, and came further into the apartment. Peter could see bags in his hands, definitely smelled food in at least one of them. Jason came over to Peter, ruffled his hair, and leaned down as he said, “Be back before you wake up, kid. Promise.”

As he walked out the door, Jason yelled, “Don’t break my shit!” At Dick, who mocked him with a whiny voice.

“Finally, Mr. Crabby Pants is gone!” Dick celebrated, dropping the bags in his hands on the counter. “Alfred sent leftovers for you, Peter. He got really upset that nobody told him you had a high metabolism. So next time you come over, expect to be absolutely drowned in Alfred’s food.”

Peter jumped on the stool in front of the counter, impatiently waiting for Dick to plate up the leftovers for him. “Fine by me, Alfred’s food is awesome.”

Dick smiled at him, setting the plate in front of him, and said, “Told you so!”

Peter ate while listening to Dick prattle on and on about Bludhaven. He apparently worked as a cop in the city, though he’s cut back his hours to spend more time in Gotham. Peter didn’t ask why, though considering Dick made it sound like a very recent thing, he figured it might be because of him. 

Dick cleaned up after Peter finished, and they both went to the living room. Peter noticed Dick carrying the other bag with him, and there was a pleased little fucking smile on his face as he sat down on the couch facing Peter. He eyed the bag, and then looked at Dick questioningly. 

“So… I got you something, and you’re not allowed to say it’s for babies, because I had a similar thing for a long time and I was totally not a baby,” Dick rambled.

Peter wondered if this was how people saw him when he rambled. 

Annoying. 

Dick pulled something out of the bag, but it was in a box (a box that didn’t betray what was inside, much to Peter’s irritation). He handed it to Peter, who took it cautiously. “What is it?”

Dick rolled his eyes, “Why don’t you open it, and see?”

The man was nearly bouncing with excitement, so Peter opened the box as slowly as he could. Peeling the tape back a little bit at a time, and then carefully lifted the box’s lid. Dick started actually whining, “C’mon, Peter!” 

Peter smiled, and then decided to open the box actually. He reached in and felt something soft and squishy, pulling it out to see…

“Robin?” Peter asked, head cocking to the side.

It was definitely Robin, but a stuffie version. The head was bigger than the body, but he was still scowling just like the figure Peter has. There’s no sword, which is lame, in Peter’s opinion. It’s really soft, and Peter almost ( almost ) presses it to his face. He stops himself when he still feels Dick’s eyes on him. Instead he holds the stuffie in both hands, squeezing it. 

“Jay told me you, uh, sleep with your Robin toy from Bat Burger,” Peter’s so going to kick Jason’s ass, “I figured this would be more comfortable, for one. It’s also much cuter.”

Peter doesn’t think Damian would like something modeled after him being called “cute”, but whatever. He rubs his thumb over the stuffie’s cowl, chewing on his lip, and says, “Thanks,” In a whisper.

Dick smiles so fucking wide Peter thinks his face might split in half. 

“You’re welcome, Pete!”

Peter was still holding the stuffed Robin when he remembered what he read in the book earlier, “Hey, you do gymnastics, right?” 

If Peter thought Dick’s smile was wide before it was nothing compared to now. “Yes! My parents were acrobats, and I worked with them!” He jumps up, so fast Peter leans back into the couch in shock, and Dick throws himself into a handstand. Peter starts laughing as Dick just easily walks in a handstand across the living room. “Impressed, kid?”

Peter stops laughing, “No way! That’s easy!”

Dick gasps, which sounds weird with him being upside down, and says, “Alright, put your money where your mouth is then.”

Peter doesn’t even hesitate before he drops his new Robin and does a handstand, hand walking toward Dick, “See? Easy.”

There’s a thump as Dick’s feet hit the floor, “What the hell?”

He keeps walking around, wiggling his toes in his sock, “I did gymnastics for a while. Until I got my powers, then it felt a little unfair to do that stuff when I’m extra strong and extra sticky.”

Peter flips to the floor, crossing his legs as he looks up at Dick. Dick copies Peter’s pose, leans a little forward, “Nex time you come to the manor we have to go to the gym! We can do way more there than we can in Jay’s dinky little safehouse,” Dick looks around the living room as he says it, judging the small space. 

“The manor has a gym?”

Dick nods, returning his eyes to Peter, “Oh yeah. There’s a gym that’s set up pretty like a gymnastics gym, Bruce did it for me years ago. And then there’s a training gym in the Batcave.”

“What else does the manor have?”

The tower has a ton of things. Tony had put a movie theater, bowling alley, a swimming pool, and basically anything else he was interested in at the tower. He used the excuse that since he was Tony Stark he couldn’t just go out and do those things, so he needed them in the tower.

“Uh, it has a lot of rooms. Bruce has done some renovations over the years, but he keeps it pretty much how it always was. It does have a ballroom, where Bruce and Tim host galas. There’s a movie room, and I have to call it a movie room because Duke says it doesn’t have good enough seats to count as a movie theater,” He rolls his eyes at that, but keeps going, “There’s a pool inside obviously otherwise we’d never get to use it. The barn is in the back gardens, but Damian takes care of it by himself.”

“Is that where the cow lives?” Peter interrupts.

Dick stops, looking slightly surprised, “How’d you know there was a cow?”

“Heard it,” Peter says, tapping his ears.

 There’s a beat of silence, and then Dick says, “Yeah, there’s a cow. Damian named it Bat Cow.”

Bat Cow.

“Bat Cow and Batcave. What else is named Bat something?” Peter asked.

“Well, there’s the batmobile,” Oh good fucking god, “It’s the car Bruce drives as Batman. I named it!” 

There’s no way Dick is proudly taking credit for naming a car batmobile. What the fuck is wrong with this guy? “You’re shit at naming things.”

Dick gapes at him, “That’s very rude, Peter.”

Peter shrugs, rocking a bit where he sits on the floor. “What else did your dumbass name?”

“You’re too much like Jason,” Dick says, “And I’m not telling because you’re being mean!”

Dick stands then, going back to the couch and pulling out his phone, as if he’s going to ignore Peter. He frowns at the man, “You have to tell me!” But Dick doesn’t answer. He’s actually going to ignore him, what the fuck. Who does he think he is? Nobody ignores Peter! He makes it a point to be so goddamn annoying that people have to pay attention to him. Peter huffs, jumping to his feet and standing right in front of Dick.

“Tell me!”

No response. 

Peter stomps his foot, whining a little when he says, “C’mon, tell me what else you named, Dick.”

Again, silence. Dick’s just scrolling on… Some app, Peter doesn’t know what it is. Looks like Instagram, but everything’s circles instead of squares and rectangles. 

How is Peter supposed to get Dick’s attention? 

Well… He usually gets Tony’s attention by crying. Most of the time he’s fake crying, though there were a few real times in there. Peter usually fake cries to make Tony feel bad, and it literally always works. Tony can’t stand when Peter cries. Partly because he’s really good at the big, puppy dog eyes, and partly because Tony is emotionally constipated so he’ll do anything to make Peter stop crying. 

Before he resorts to fake crying, though…

“Tell me, Dick.”

Nothing.

What a bitch! Peter thinks.

The first sniffle gets Dick’s attention immediately. His head snaps up, and he locks eyes with Peter, whose vision is blurring from unshed tears. There’s a brief moment of silence, before Peter sniffs again, lower lip jutting out. Ned always said his fake crying got better after the bite, like it was enhanced with everything else. Peter just thinks practice makes perfect.

He brings his hands up to his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, and wobbly says, “‘M sorry for being mean.”

Dick’s standing so fast his phone flies out of his hands, clattering to the floor. He wraps his arms around Peter, drawing him to his chest, which isn’t really what Peter was aiming for but whatever. Unforeseen consequences and all that. 

“I’m sorry, Peter, I was just messing around, swear,” Dick mutters into Peter’s hair. 

Peter takes a deep breath, burying his face in Dick’s chest to essentially wipe his tears away, and says, “What else did you name?”

Dick laughs, the sound vibrating against Peter’s face, “Well, I named our helicopter the whirly bat, and the plane is called batplane. Can you guess what the computer is called?”

“Batcomputer?” Peter asks, already dreading the answer.

He feels Dick nod his head, and Peter rolls his eyes in response. God, Dick is so lame. He starts peeling himself off the man, and Dick thankfully lets him go. It’s quiet for a moment before Peter scoops up his stuffed Robin, and then goes to his bag to grab his Robin figure. He holds them both close, and goes back to the couch. Dick moves, sitting beside him.

“By the way, kid, don’t even try the whole bedtime thing with me. Tim already told me your little game, and Jason is pretty set on your real bedtime.”

“This place is a prison,” Peter says, throwing his head backwards and groaning. 

Dick laughs, poking Peter in his side, “You’ll feel different when you wake up well-rested tomorrow. Besides, Tim also told me that you may or may not have fallen asleep right at your scheduled bedtime…”

Peter squeezes his eyes closed, “I’m so gonna bite Tim next time I see him.”

Dick pokes a little harder, “Not nice, Pete.”

“I never claimed to be nice. In fact, I think I actually claimed to be an asshole.”

Rolling his eyes, Dick ruffled Peter’s hair before leaning over to pick up Peter’s discarded Gotham book. “Want me to read some about Gotham’s history to you?” Peter’s about to wrinkle his nose, say I’m not a baby, I can read , when Dick says, “My mom always read to me when I was little.”

Oh.

“My mom did too,” Peter whispers, “You can read to me.”

Dick smiles, scoots a little closer to Peter, and starts reading, “In 1609, the Dutch East India Company selected Henry Hudson to chart a passage to Asia…” Peter’s already zoning out, squeezing his Robins to his chest. Dick has a nice voice, and it seemed like the start of Gotham matched with the rest of the United States beginning. “There were two colonies: one that settled at the coast, where fishing was plentiful, and the other further inland. The colony men that settled near the coast traveled to visit their inland brothers, and found the village deserted and pools of blood on the streets. There were no bodies.”

Well, that’s pretty damn spooky.

Also, did Peter miss a huge chunk of the story? Or did nobody know what happened to the inland colony? MJ was obsessed with the Roanoke colony, so Peter’s pretty used to hearing about missing colonists. Still. Weird that the book didn’t seem to offer at least a theory about what possibly happened to them. 

“In 1635, Swedish mercenary and sailor, Captain John Logerquist founded a settlement in the area. Logerquist and a few other settlers had fled Europe due to the religious wars raging at the time. Logerquist went to live in the southern village that would later be known as Old Gotham, and maintained farmland on the northern island that is now Park Row and the Bowery. He is now recognized as Gotham City’s founder.”

Hold up…

Peter sits up, dislodging Dick where he was half resting on Peter’s shoulder. “What happened to the colonists in 1609?”

Dick blinks a few times, “No one really knows. They came, they settled here, and eventually they died. Most people just say it’s more proof that Gotham’s always been… Well, Gotham .”

There’s a mirthless smile on Dick’s face, and Peter huffs, settling back down. “That’s lame as fuck,” Peter says, “I wanna know about the first colonists. What made that one group disappear? Where’d they go?”

Dick shrugs, which does not settle Peter.

“Wanna hear more?”

Peter chewed on it for a minute, before saying, “Can you skip ahead? To something interesting. No offense to Mr. Logerquist.”

Dick chuckled, “Yeah, let’s go to… 1799.”

If Peter was curious about why Dick chose that year, he didn’t have to wonder for long, “Darius Wayne began construction on a family estate that would eventually become known as Wayne Manor.”

What the fuck! “Bruce’s family has been here that fucking long?”

Dick nods, shushing Peter as he continues, “In 1840, Gotham underwent a major urban planning initiative put forth by Judge Solomon Wayne and architect Cyrus Pinkney. Under Judge Wayne’s commission, Pinkney designed gargoyles to frighten people onto the path of righteousness, rounded edges to confuse malevolent beings, and thick walls to lock in virtue. Fellow Gothamites heavily criticized the designs, but it greatly pleased Judge Wayne.”

“What a loser,” Peter said, twisting the Robin figure's sword over and over again. 

Dick nodded, “Yeah, Bruce doesn’t really talk much about his family history.”

“I wonder why,” He muttered. 

Dick closed the book, leaning over to set it on the coffee table. “Hey! What happened? I wanna hear more!”

Dick’s face got all scrunched up, and he seemed to be thinking of what to say. Finally, he turned to Peter, and said, “The more recent history in Gotham is pretty corrupt. Not a great bedtime story. Probably shouldn’t have read the whole two colonies story to you in the first place.”

He rolled his eyes, “Oh, wow, you mean the city that’s filled with crime is also corrupt? Crazy, never woulda guessed.”

“Alright, Mr. Smarty Pants. Still, I’m not gonna read anymore and you don’t need to either. Tonight at least. You should start getting ready for bed.”

Peter gives Dick a thumbs down, “Boo, you whore!”

Dick makes a choking noise, eyes wide as he looks at Peter. But Peter ignores him, Robins firmly in hand as he walks to the bedroom. He’s on the search for a movie to watch when Dick seemingly recovers and follows him into the bedroom. 

“You have a terrible vocabulary,” Dick says, turning on the nightlight. He looks up at the ceiling, smiling, “I like the bat signal.”

Peter sighs, “Tim picked it out because he thinks he’s so fucking funny.”

He thinks he’s run through Jason’s child friendly movies, and goes to look at the others. He sees plenty of scary movies, some dramas, a few art house films that MJ has definitely forced him to watch. Nothing sounds good. He’s about to reach for Hell House , because it is a pretty good movie, when Dick pushes his hand away. 

“Absolutely not, young man!”

Peter wants to bite him, he so fucking wants to bite this guy, but he holds himself back. He’s going to tell Jason tomorrow though that he deserves a reward for his self restraint. Dick pushes him out of the way, looking through the movies himself. He plucks one off the shelf, shoves it in before Peter can stop him, and then shoos Peter to the bed.

“What’d you choose?” He asks, complying with the bossy man.

Dick doesn’t answer, pulling the blankets back and letting Peter climb in. He ignores the fact that Dick is essentially tucking him in, and looks at the TV to see what movie is playing.

“Fucking seriously? You put on The Aristocats ?”

Dick just smiles, smoothing out the blankets over Peter. “It’s a good movie. Now go to sleep.”

He walks to the door, flipping the lightswitch, and leaving the door open a crack. Peter fumes until Dick’s gone, and then he settles in to watch the movie, because it is a good movie. It just sucks that Dick picked it out. Peter kind of flops over, standing his Robin up by his nightlight, and then hugs his stuffed Robin to his chest. 

He thinks of Aunt May, and wonders what she’s doing right now. He’s been gone for three months, after all. If his soul was the only thing brought over, then surely Tony found his body by now. Buried him. Aunt May is probably moving right on from him. She’s definitely spending less money without him there eating all of it.

He misses her a lot.

So fucking much.

But he also hates himself for how… Easy it is here. 

Aunt May’s back in his universe, likely grieving him, and Peter’s here being tucked in by people that seem to actually fucking like him. What kind of nephew is he? He doesn’t understand why Dick would want to be his uncle anyways. Maybe he just doesn’t know Peter well enough yet. Hasn’t been around long enough to experience the Parker Curse. 

Peter swallows, curling around his Robin. 

His mind starts to drift to the original kid that was in this body, but Peter very firmly forces it away. 

If Dick thought Peter would have nightmares from the two colonies stories, he’s sure to have nightmares from thinking about the two dead kids that just got body snatched by Peter. He shivers, turning over quickly and focusing on the movie. 

It’s past the title sequence, showing the Eiffel Tower in the background. 

“Paris 1910,” Peter whispers, forcing himself to pay attention to the movie. He always liked how the kittens moved, like they were bouncing. They reminded him of Dick earlier, when he was excited to give Peter the stuffed Robin.

He feels himself falling asleep, and he also feels his mind wandering away from the movie. Thinking about what could have happened to him for three months that he doesn’t remember. What happened to the boys that were in this body once. Who the Morlocks are. 

And what happened to bring him to this universe. 

“ Tony? ” Peter says, looking at the man in front of him.

Tony had his faceplate off, but the Iron Man armor was still on him. His eyes were searching everywhere, not really looking at Peter until Peter said his name. Then they locked onto him. “Underoos,” Tony said, walking to him, “Here’s the plan, kiddo.”

The plan? 

Where are they?

Peter whips around, but everythings all blurry. There’s redness around him, but it looks like dust. When he looks down, all he sees is his feet, not anything else. Tony walks closer to him, and when he’s standing eye to eye with Tony, he realizes he’s taller.

No, not taller.

He’s sixteen. 

The suit that’s on him is… Different. He’s never seen it before. It looks more like Tony’s current suit than anything Peter’s ever worn before. When Peter thinks about seeing his hands, the suit melts away until he does. He jumps, and Tony snorts at him, “Still getting used to the nanobots, kid?”

Nanobots?

When did Peter get a nanobot suit?

“What’s the plan, Tony? Where are we?”

Tony’s face scrunches up, just for a moment, before it smooths over. “We’re somewhere else. Okay, here’s the plan: Bug Girl over there is going to subdue Thanos while you and I take the gauntlet. Got it? It’s gonna be you and me, kiddo.”

Bug Girl? Tony gestured to the side when he said her name but when Peter looks all he sees is dust. There’s nothing there. And even if there was, Peter feels like he wouldn’t be able to see it. When Tony says Thanos something cold crawls up Peter’s throat. Who’s Thanos? What gauntlet?

“Tony… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter admits, taking a step back from the man.

Again, Tony’s face does something, his eyebrows drawing together and then it quickly goes blank. He takes a breath, and says, “You got the plan, right, kid? Okay, let’s do it.”

“Wait, Tony! Please tell me what’s happening!”

Tony doesn’t, turning around and walking away from Peter. He thinks he hears him talking to somebody, but then Tony steps into the dust and it’s gone.

He’s alone.

No Tony.

Just dust.

He can’t fucking breathe suddenly, and his bare hands go to clawing at his throat. He thinks about taking the suit off, wanting it to disappear, but it doesn’t work, why isn’t it working? That’s what nanobots do , right? He thinks it, and they obey! But they don’t obey. Feels like they’re outright dis obeying Peter, squeezing him tighter and tighter.

The dust surrounds him fully now, and Peter can’t even see his own nose with how cloudy it is. 

He blinks, eyes burning, and falls backwards.

But he never lands.

Just keeps falling.

And falling.

And falling.

He sits up in bed, feeling dust scratching at his throat. He starts choking, violently, whole body wracking with the effort it takes to make the feeling go away. A door slams into the wall, being pushed open too hard, and the scent of apples surrounds him. 

JasonJasonJason, his mind blares, reminding him where he is.

He throws himself at Jason, knowing he’ll be caught, and he is. Arms wrap around him, stronger than Dick’s, holding him way tighter, and Peter can breathe , he can finally fucking breathe. Peter buries himself into Jason’s chest, eyes closed but somehow still burning. 

“You’re alright, kid, you’re okay,” Jason’s saying but Peter isn’t sure he’s really hearing him. 

“Breathe, Pete,” He whispers, near begging. 

Peter stops heaving, slows himself down, focuses on taking big breaths in and equally big breaths out. When he can feel the rest of his body, he realizes how fucking hard he’s digging his fingers into Jason’s back. He loosens his grip, but does not let go. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Dick says, somewhere far off. 

Why is he sorry?

Oh.

Peter starts laughing, feeling delirious. He’s actually wheezing, he's laughing so goddamn hard, shoulders shaking, grip completely slack against Jason. 

Dick thinks he caused this by reading the Gotham history book. 

What an idiot.

“Is he… Okay?” Dick asks, closer than before. 

Jason doesn’t answer at first, hands holding Peter so fucking tight he thinks maybe that’s part of the reason he was having trouble breathing at first. But he doesn’t want Jason to let go, so he doesn’t complain. “I think so.”

Is Peter okay?

He doesn’t really feel that okay.

“Nightmare,” Peter says, voice scratchy from the choking and the bout of hysterical laughter. Jason starts rubbing soothing circles on Peter’s back, a low hum in his throat that Peter feels radiate through him. “It wasn’t about the colony story,” He clarifies, not wanting Dick to shoulder the blame.

There’s a sigh of relief, and then Dick says, “Still, I probably shouldn’t have read that to you so close to you going to sleep.”

Jason stops humming, “Yeah, your babysitting privileges have totally been revoked by the way,”

Dick makes a wounded noise, and then says, “Yeah, that’s fair.”

“Think you can get up, Pete?” Jason asks, and that’s when Peter realizes they’re on the floor. He’s sitting in Jason’s lap, curled around him, and he really doesn’t want to get up. But the longer he’s awake, the hungrier he gets. When he thinks of his hunger, his belly rumbles, making the decision for him. Jason stands, picking Peter up with him, and he sets him on the bed. 

Finally, Peter unscrews his eyes, looking up at Jason. 

The man’s face looks exhausted. Worry lines etched into his forehead, green eyes pale and ghostly. There’s a long moment of silence, before Jason attempts a smile, “Hungry?”

Peter sniffs a few times, rubs his hands over his eyes to wipe away the tears he didn’t even know he shed, and nods. “Yeah, I could eat.”

Dick’s head pops up behind Jason, blue eyes piercing into Peter, “I’ll go get us breakfast!” And then he’s off.

Jason just shakes his head, mumbles, “God, he’s fucking annoying,” before looking back at Peter, “Okay?”

No, he doesn’t think he’s okay. 

But he feels better with Jason. So he says, “I will be.

Chapter Text

After breakfast, Dick dragged Peter into a hug, saying, “See you later, Peter!” and then disappeared out the door. Peter was still looking at the door when Jason came up behind him, tapping him on the shoulder. When he turned around, Jason was watching him with calculating eyes.

“Wanna talk about it?” The man asks, never breaking eye contact. 

Peter bites his lip, thinks for a solid ten seconds, and then says, “Nah.”

Jason rolls his eyes, but allows Peter to skate around the topic, thank god. Because Peter really doesn’t fucking want to talk about the nightmare. Was it even a nightmare? It had felt so… Real. But, sometimes nightmares feel real, right? He’s woken up a few times from a nightmare of him sleeping through his alarm, or forgetting to put pants on before going to school and those all felt very real. 

Whatever.

He told Jason he wasn’t going to talk about, so he’s also not going to fucking think about it either. 

Jason sighs, finally looking away from Peter, and heading back into the bedroom. Peter hears him rummaging around, so he heads into the room to be nosey and annoying. He sees Jason pulling a duffel bag out of the closet, before the man heads over and starts gathering Peter’s clothes and nightlight.

“Where are we going?” Peter asks, lip curling as he watches Jason pack his stupid fucking light up shoes. 

Jason zips the bag up, handing Peter his Robins, and they walk out of the bedroom. “Bigger place. I cleaned it up last night before I came back.”

He tosses Peter’s backpack at him, and Peter gets the idea. He stuffs his books inside, his tablet, and all his Bat Burger figures before zipping it up. Jason’s packing his own bag, but his is less… Childish. Peter watches him pack a few knives and other handheld weapons Peter’s never even seen in the apartment. Where was he hiding them?

“Are we going there now?” 

Jason nods, tossing his bag over his shoulder. “Yeah, figured we’d go get groceries after we dropped off our shit.”

He puts his backpack on, securing the straps, and watches as Jason turns all the lights off before heading out the door. Before they get on the motorcycle, Jason taps away on his phone, and Peter can hear various locks sliding into place above them. And then Jason tosses the helmet at Peter, smiling at him as he grumbles. 

“So, do I get my own bedroom at the new place?” Peter asks, throwing his leg over the bike.

Jason fastens his own helmet, but Peter hears the small hike in his heartbeat, but he doesn’t know why. “Yeah, you’ll get your own. Why? Wanna decorate it?”

Decorate it?

Peter guesses he is going to be here for a month, maybe a poster or two wouldn’t be so bad. But then, “What will you do with everything when I leave?”

Jason’s silent for a long time, just sitting on the bike in front of Peter and not saying a word. Finally, he says, “Probably donate it.”

Oh.

That kind of makes Peter feel… Bad. He doesn’t like the idea of decorating a room with things he likes just for Jason to get rid of everything. But once he’s gone, why should Jason keep it? That doesn’t make any sense. 

Jason starts the motorcycle, and the roar gets rid of Peter’s thoughts. He wraps his arms around Jason, and just looks out at the buildings as they drive past them. 

The apartment was bigger. Much bigger. Peter was turning in slow circles as he took it all in. It didn’t look like a safe house apartment. The last one was practical. A bed, a couch, a kitchen. Yes there were TVs, but they were outdated and obviously used sparingly. The movie collection was so outdated it was probably already in the apartment when Jason got it. 

The only thing that stood out was Damian’s extra clothes. But they were old, as was obvious by the fact Damian couldn’t even fit in them these days. So it had to be years ago that Damian stayed at that apartment.

But this one…

It has big windows, letting in tons of natural light. Or, well, as much natural light as Gotham has. The TV is nice, not as nice as the one in the manor, but modern enough that Peter figures it was probably bought within the last few years. 

The kitchen is huge, bigger than the kitchen in his and Aunt May’s apartment. There’s even a six seater dining table sitting between the kitchen and the living room. And the living room has comfy couches and an even comfier looking armchair. 

Peter’s still turning when Jason clears his throat.

He stops moving, staring up at Jason, who’s looking down at him with a weird smile on his face. “Your room’s over there,” Jason says, pointing at a door on the opposite wall. There’s an open door beside it, showing off a bathroom, and another door that’s close to the windows.

Jason heads to the one near the windows, opening and going inside. Peter can hear as his bag thunks to the floor. Peter heads to his bedroom, swinging the door open and flicking on the light. There’s a bed, a desk with a chair, an empty bookshelf,  and a dresser. Peter unzips his backpack and sets up his Bat Burger figures on one of the shelves, making sure his Red Hood is standing in the middle of everyone.

“Here’s your other bag, kid,” Jason says, setting his bag of clothes on the bed. He unzips it, and Peter heads over to start emptying his clothes and shoes out. 

“This isn’t a safe house is it?” Peter asks, opening a dresser drawer to put his few pyjama sets inside. Jason sighs, handing him some t-shirts, “What makes you say that?”

Peter stops unpacking, raising a single eyebrow at Jason, and says, “Jay, what safe house would have windows of that size? And why would you ever need two bedrooms? I figured if an apartment had multiple rooms you’d just change one into an armory or some shit.”

Jason snorts, shaking his head as he slides open the closet door, placing Peter’s shoes on the floor inside. “Okay, so it’s not a safe house in the technical sense.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Peter asks, closing the drawers now that all the clothes are put away. 

Jason turns to him, “It’s… When Bruce found out I was back, and he finally swallowed the fact I wasn’t gonna move back into the manor, he got me this place. It’s set up with a similar security system as my other places, so it’s safe. Just not a place I’d go to be… Off the radar, I guess.”

When Bruce found out I was back…

Bruce hadn’t known when Jason was brought back to life? How come?

“So, this is Bruce’s apartment?”

Jason’s entire face scrunches up. “No. He wanted to keep footing the bill, but I told him to fuck off. I pay for it.”

“How do you even make money?” Peter asks, head cocked. 

The smile that crosses Jason’s face is a little terrifying, and Jason says, “Sometimes being a vigilante can pay the bills. If you do the wrong thing enough times.”

Okay, yeah, Peter’s done asking questions. Instead, he listens, trying to hear the neighbors or the people on the street. But he doesn’t hear much of anything. If he concentrates hard enough, he can pick up muffled voices a few rooms away, clattering of things being clinked together. Peter never likes to concentrate that hard on his hearing, though. He saves that particular gem for Spider-Man.

“Are these walls, like, mega soundproofed?”

Jason drops the weird ass smile, and gives Peter a genuine one. He leans over, knocking on the wall, and it sounds… Dead. “Bruce wanted it to be Red Hood proof. That means reinforced walls. Extra reinforced walls.”

Peter runs over, pressing his ear to the wall, trying to hear past it. Again, he hears muffled voices, this close now he’s able to pick them a part, hears a man with a deep voice and a woman with a way too soft voice. Peter can’t tell what the woman’s saying, but the man is talking about work, he thinks. He leans away from the wall, “That’s awesome!”

Jason ruffles his hair, “Yeah, it’s pretty neat. Who knew it would come in handy for baby spiders with extra good hearing?”

Peter blows a raspberry at the man, and watches as he takes out Peter’s nightlight and sets it up on the dresser. 

“There’s not a TV in here, but we can buy one. Or you can always use your tablet to watch something while you fall asleep.”

Peter wrinkles his nose, crossing his arms across his chest, “I’m not a baby, ya know. I don’t need a TV. I only used it at the old place because it was there.”

Jason watches him for a moment, holding his hands up as he takes a few steps away from Peter, “Hey, I never said you were a baby. Pretty sure babies aren’t supposed to have any screen time anyway.”

They leave Peter’s bedroom, and Jason heads straight for the front door. “This place literally has no food, so we really do gotta go get groceries. Before we even step foot outside of this fucking place, let’s lay down some ground rules.”

He groans, stomping his foot, which earns him a very unimpressed look from Jason. “Rule one: for every piece of junk food you want, you have to get something healthy. So ya want some sugary cereal that’s gonna rot your teeth? Better go pick out a vegetable to go with it.”

He rolls his eyes, motioning with his hands for Jason to continue with his stupid rules. 

“Rule two: if I say no to something, it means no. None of that puppy eyes bullshit you like to pull. Oh, and Dickie told me about your crying stunt last night. He thinks you were being genuine, but I know how fucking crazy you are, so it won’t work on me.”

Mhm, sure, Peter thinks. Jason hasn’t even seen Peter’s fake crying act, so he has no idea if he can withstand it or not. Peter bites the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from smirking, because he’s totally going to fake cry at Jason sometime soon. The ass. 

“Anything else, sir?” Peter says, eyebrows up near his hairline. 

Jason’s eyes narrow as he looks down at Peter, “Rule three: you stay near me at all times. I mean that, Peter. No wandering off, no going to a different aisle, don’t even turn your back on me. Got it?”

Okay, the last rule sounds pretty scary, if Peter’s being honest. He swallows, arms falling away from his chest as they dangle uselessly at his side. “What’s gonna happen if I’m not near you?”

Jason looks like he’s ready to tear his hair out, “Are ya planning on disobeying all of these rules, or are ya actually asking?”

“I’m actually asking, dumbass! When we went to the library you didn’t say I had to stay close to you!”

A long sigh expels from the man, and he lowers himself a little so he’s eye to eye with Peter. “We had Tim with us, for one, so it wasn’t just you and me. And I don’t know if you noticed, but you stayed pretty glued to my side that entire day.”

Peter feels his face scrunch up as he tries to remember. He… Did stay close to Jason, but was it really glued to him? He was just out of it, he thinks. Fresh from the jello, just told he was in a different universe, hungry as shit. So, yeah, he probably stayed pretty close. But… “What? You think I’ll just wander off this time?”

Jason does a slow blink, “So if you see something you like and I’m not moving fast enough you’re honestly telling me you wouldn’t just head over to it and leave me behind?”

Oh.

Fair point.

Peter gives Jason a wry smile, “Valid, I guess.”

Jason nods, stands back up to his full height, and leads Peter out the door with a hand on his back. They’re walking down the stairs when Peter gets brave, finally, and slides his hand into Jason’s. The man looks down at him, then at their hands, and Peter says, “Well, you want me to stay close! I thought this was the best option!”

As he says that, Peter knows his entire face is burning red. He can feel the heat on his cheeks, neck, and shit, maybe even his forehead. Jason’s silent for a minute, but during that time his hand does squeeze around Peter’s, and he says, “Makes sense to me.”

By the time they make it to the bottom of the stairs, and exit the building, Peter’s face is no longer flaming, and Jason’s even swinging their hands together a little as they walk. It feels… Ridiculously domestic. Peter can’t even remember the last time he held Aunt May’s hand. Probably when he was around the age this body is, actually. 

He always liked holding hands with his mom and dad, and then his Aunt May and Uncle Ben. 

He also likes holding hands with Jason.

A quick peek at the man beside him shows a pretty content look on Jason’s face, so Peter thinks maybe, just maybe, Jason likes holding hands with Peter too. 

The grocery store is pretty empty when they enter. Peter has no idea what day of the week it is, but he guesses people are either at school or work right now. There’s an older woman working one of the two registers at the front, and she doesn’t even look at them as they walk. Peter smells gunpowder fucking everywhere. It sends the heebie jeebies up his spine, which makes him scoot a little closer to Jason.

The man eyes him for a moment, but doesn’t comment on it thankfully. He grabs a cart, pushing it with one hand, before Peter sighs and lets go of Jason’s other hand. “So you can push the cart easier,” Peter mumbles, not meeting Jason’s eyes.

There’s a humph sound, before Jason grabs Peter’s hand and places it on the cart. “Don’t let go,” The man says, giving him a very stern look. Peter sighs, but his fingers curl into the wires of the cart, holding on as Jason pushes it through the aisles. 

Some of the brands look familiar, but there’s some that are so completely new that Peter stares at them for a while. Like right now, Jason’s putting a box of cheerios in the cart, but Peter hasn’t looked away from a box of “Bat-O’s”. What the actual fuck? They’re little bat shaped cereal pieces, advertising low sugar with the same great taste! Peter blinks a few times, and Jason finally catches on to what he’s looking at.

“They came out a few years ago,” He explains, gesturing to the Bat-O’s box. “They were a special edition thing, for Batman’s anniversary of working in Gotham. But kids liked ‘em so much they stayed in production. Would you believe they’re most popular in Metropolis?” Jason says the last part as it’s funny, but Peter doesn’t get it.

Jason huffs, “Metropolis is Superman’s city,” He explains, and Peter makes an O face, nodding his head. He thinks he knew that, from his books, but it didn’t really stick in his head. He was too busy focusing on all the fucking powers the man has. 

“Are they any good?” Peter asks, though they’ve already started walking away from it.

Jason shrugs, “Nah. Used to be, before they dropped the sugar. They got investigated by the FDA last year. Apparently there was enough sugar in one serving to constitute a fully grown adult’s sugar serving for the day.”

Peter gasps, turning to look at the box behind him, “Why the fuck did they pack so much sugar inside them?”

Another shrug, “Wanted kiddies like you to get addicted to ‘em, I guess.”

Peter elbows Jason, who just laughs at him. They keep moving, Jason picking up things here and there, but Peter isn’t really choosing anything. He doesn’t mind so much, what they get, so long as he gets to eat. He does wrinkle his nose when Jason leads them to the vegetables. “Why?” He whines, drawing out the ‘y’. 

Jason ignores him, picking up lettuce, spinach, and asparagus. Peter makes fake gagging noises at the asparagus, and Jason watches him with a blank face. “Not a fan?” He finally asks, and Peter vehemently shakes his head. 

“One time I threw them up. Whole.”

Jason makes a eugh sound, looking down at the asparagus with a horrified expression, “Why the fuck were they whole? Did you not chew your food?”

Peter shrugged, yanking the cart (and Jason) toward the fruit where he sees a whole fucking stack of q’tasba melons. “I didn’t wanna eat them. My uncle said I had to or I wasn’t leaving the table so I just shoved them in and drank a lot of water to get them down. I threw up a few hours later. My uncle didn’t make me eat asparagus again, so I call it a win.”

Jason allows himself to be yanked around the floor, but he stops Peter from picking up the entire pallet of melons, “Peter, you get three only.”

Peter whines, throwing his head, “C’mon! I want five!” He tries negotiating. 

“What’s rule two?”

He starts shaking his head violently, “You didn’t say no, you just gave me a limit.”

They had a stare off that felt like it lasted hours. Peter’s good at stare offs, thanks to the spider bite he doesn’t have to blink as often, so he can keep his eyes wide open for a long time. Finally, Jason’s eyes scrunch close, and he stabs his fingers into them, “What the fuck!”

Peter grins, putting five melons in the cart, “I win!” He claims, doing a little dance before he quickly grabs the cart again. Jason’s eyes have recovered, and he just sighs as he looks at the melons in the cart. “Whatever, kiddo,” Jason says, but it sounds more fond than exasperated. 

A few minutes later, Jason stops them near the candy aisle, “You want something?”

Peter looks at the candy, then back at Jason, then back to the candy, “Really?”

Jason smiles, nods, says, “You can get two things, yeah? Offset the asparagus and the spinach.”

Peter doesn’t need to be told fucking twice, and he starts dragging Jason down the candy aisle. There’s so many options that Peter’s overwhelmed, just a bit, before he finds something familiar. 

Peach rings.

He grabs a bag, tossing it in, thinking of MJ going through a bag of peach rings every week. Her guilty pleasure. She liked to complain about overly processed food and the amount of sugar in modern food, but peach rings were something she couldn’t ever say no to. So Peter can’t say no to them. 

“One more item, kid.”

Peter knows that, thanks! He got something that reminds him of MJ, so… He finds Ned’s favorite, mini dark chocolate bars. Ned likes to freeze them before he eats them. Peter doesn’t have that amount of self control, preferring to rip the bag open and just eating everything in one sitting. 

He’ll freeze these, though.

“Ready to go?” Jason asks, and Peter nods, fingers holding tight to the cart as Jason leads them to registers. 

The old woman is still there, looking slightly more alert than when they first came in. She looks like every other granny Peter’s ever seen, but there’s a weird outline underneath her employee vest. Peter can tell by the way her hands keep twitching toward it and the overpowering smell of gunpowder that it’s a gun. Absolutely fucking wild. Peter tries not to stare at it, just in case it makes her even more uncomfortable. 

“Find everything okay?” She asks, not making eye contact with Jason.

Oh.

That’s why she’s acting so fidgety. 

Jason’s like a brick fucking wall, all muscles and hard lines, towering over everyone. And she’s just an old lady, obviously working alone, in Crime Alley. Peter tries his best to seem innocent, giving off little kid vibes, so he says, “I like your button!” Really loudly. 

That’s what kids do, right? Say shit so loud because they have no situational awareness? 

The woman jumps a little, and then looks down at him. She softens, just a tiny bit, and glances at her button that’s on her vest. It’s a butterfly with pink and purple wings, glitter all over it making it shine. She gives Peter a slightly off smile, says, “Thanks. My granddaughter gave it to me.”

It’s said in a monotone voice, but she’s not twitching toward her gun anymore so Peter’s counting that as a success. The rest of the check out goes pretty easy, and soon they’re back on the street with arms full of grocery bags.

Well, Jason has arms full of grocery bags. Peter has one bag in his hand, and the other is holding onto Jason’s arm, at the man’s request. 

“Now is especially the time to stay close. It’s never a good idea to let your guard down in this shithole when you’re carrying anything.”

Peter nods along dutifully, sticking his hand to Jason’s arm as they make their way back to the apartment. His sense pings every so often, but as soon as it jumps to an OH SHIT level, it goes away entirely. Peter’s theory? They get close enough to see how big Jason really is, and nope the fuck out of the situation before properly entering it. It’s kind of funny, except it reminds Peter that if he was by himself he’d be majorly fucked. 

There’s a moment where he feels eyes on him, and they don’t leave for a while. It makes his skin crawl, but his sense doesn’t alert to anything, so whoever’s watching isn’t bad. No, in fact, whoever’s watching is… Friendly.

Peter starts looking around, but sees nobody on the streets watching him. He then decides to look up, and sees a figure crouched on the building in front of them. Their yellow helmet shines in the daylight, and Peter can clearly see the white bat with a black outline on the person’s chest.

“Is Signal’s suit yellow?” Peter asks, still looking at the vigilante above them.

He’s holding a baton in each hand, and is very obviously watching them.

“Yeah, black and yellow. Why?” Jason asks, looking down at Peter. When he sees that Peter is looking up, he looks up and sighs when he sees Signal on the edge of the building’s roof. 

“Asshole,” Jason mutters. 

Peter’s brows furrows, “How come? Is he not normally out during the day?”

“No, he’s the daytime guy, so that’s normal. What’s not normal is him being here, in Crime Alley. This is very firmly Red Hood’s territory.”

Oh, now Peter gets it. Like Daredevil was when Spider-Man first entered the scene, and didn’t really know the invisible lines the vigilante had drawn through the city. Before Daredevil got close enough to Spider-Man to figure out he wasn’t as grown as he’d like people to believe, the guy was very aggressive in running Spider-Man out of Hell’s Kitchen. They’re on speaking terms now, though, so Peter thinks it worked out pretty well.

“I like him,” Peter says, smiling up at Signal. 

He unsticks, just for a minute, to wave at him. Surely he’s safe enough to let go of Jason with a whole ass masked vigilante watching them? As if Jason’s hulking form wasn’t enough to deter the not so good people milling around them. Signal stands, dropping one of his batons that dangles from the other, and waves back. 

“What is he holding?” Peter asks, reattaching his hand to Jason’s arm. They’re a building away from the apartment now.

“Escrima sticks.”

Neat!

Peter wants some. He’s about to ask for them, when Jason interrupts, “No.”

“No what?” Peter asks, pouting. Jason grunts, “No, you’re not getting escrima sticks.”

Peter continues pouting, maybe digging his fingers into Jason’s arm a little roughly, if the man’s wince is anything to go by. “Moved on from biting, did we?” Jason asks.

Peter grins up at him, “I can still bite you, stupid head.” As if to show him that, Peter leans in quickly and bites the bit of skin on Jason’s arm that’s exposed from his jacket riding up. The man curses, jerking back a bit, but he steadies himself so he doesn’t fall completely over with the groceries. 

“You’re so fucking grounded,” Jason grits out, which makes Peter straighten up immediately. “Huh? Grounded from what?” Peter questions, licking at his teeth.

He thinks he should probably stop biting people. Everytime he does, or thinks of biting them, a very weird taste comes into his mouth. Almost like when you’re really hungry so you start salivating. It feels fucking nasty though. He swallows the small amount that come up when he bit Jason, and waits to hear just what the fuck the man is grounding him from.

“Your tablet,” Jason states, “Consider it gone.”

Peter’s jaw falls open, “What! That’s not fair!”

They’re at the door to the stairs, and Jason holds it open with his foot, leveling Peter a look, “Not fair? Kid, you’ve bitten me more times than a damn dog. I think it’s pretty fair that you get grounded from something. So, either ya lose the tablet, or…” Jason pauses, and then a truly evil smile appears on his face, “Grounded or a timeout. Which one?”

A timeout!?

Peter whines, loudly, and starts shaking his hands, “Neither!” He says, glaring up at Jason.

“Not an option,” Jason says, shaking his head.

Jason has his foot kicked against the door, but he’s using his body to block the way in, waiting on Peter to make his choice. Peter wants to collapse to the ground, and throw the biggest fucking fit of his life. He remembers doing that as a kid, with Aunt May saying he looked like a fish flopping out of water. He doesn’t do that now, but he really fucking wants to.

Okay, well, Peter does not want his tablet taken away, so his only option is: “Timeout,” He says through gritted teeth, scowling at Jason’s shoes. The man grunts, says, “Deal,” And then they head up the stairs. 

After putting the groceries away, Jason leans against the counter with his arms crossed, looking at Peter. “Google says your timeout should last a minute for every year old you are, so ten minutes.”

Peter wonders if he fell into another universe, “I’m sorry, you googled it?”

Jason smirks, nods, “Hafta to do things the right way.”

He rolls his eyes, but whatever, ten minutes isn’t so bad. So he follows Jason to the kitchen table, and he motions for Peter to sit in the chair at the head of the table. Peter throws himself down, earning him an eyebrow raised from Jason. The man goes into Peter’s room, and returns with his tablet. He taps away on it, and sets a timer for ten minutes, placing it in front of him.

“No talking, got it? Just gotta sit and think about why biting people isn’t fucking nice. Can you manage that?”

Peter doesn’t answer, just nods his head once, crossing his arms and looking away from Jason. He walks away from the table, and goes about doing whatever Jason wants to do. Peter doesn’t care, and just ignores him.

He knows biting people isn’t nice, okay!? Aunt May would probably wash his mouth with soap if she found out he was out here biting people. He didn’t bite people in his last universe. Didn’t even feel the need. But, and he doesn’t know why, he just hasn’t been able to stop himself. Like a baby teething. But he’s not a baby! He shouldn’t make that comparison!

Although…

Is he teething?

He’s been so bitey, and there’s been that weird bitter liquid in his mouth the last few days. But would he be teething? He has all of his teeth, and he hasn’t lost any recently. 

Ew… Is he growing more teeth? Surely not. 

He opens his mouth and shoves his fingers in, touching all of his teeth, starting with his back ones. Those feel normal, so he moves on, slowly moving to his front teeth. He gets to his canines, and then his hands stop. Because what the actual fuck is he feeling right now? Why are his canines so damn sharp? He doesn’t think they were before. These feel… Crazy sharp. Way sharper than normal. Surely his dentist back home would’ve had something to say about that.

It’s like he has fangs. 

Oh fuck, he has fangs. 

Fangs!
So what’s the bitter stuff he tastes?

Well, Peter, let’s fucking think about this. What usually goes with fangs? 

…

Venom. 

No fucking way! Peter yanks his fingers out of his mouth and goes to jump out of the chair when his eyes land on the timer. He’s four minutes into his ten minute timeout. He hears Jason in the man’s bedroom, drawers being opened and closed as he likely unpacks his own duffel bag full of weapons. 

He stays seated, but he’s nearly vibrating in his chair. 

Fangs! Venom! Peter’s like a real spider!

What’s next, eight limbs?

… Peter doesn’t want eight limbs.

Though, climbing would be so fucking easy with extra limbs, let’s be honest. What about extra eyes? Those would be useful. Would it increase his eyesight? Or would they just be ornamental? What else do spiders have that Peter doesn’t? 

Natural webbing, for one.

That’d be cool as shit to have! He wants that so bad! 

Where would it come from? Hopefully not his ass…

Maybe his wrists, like where his webshooters sit. He goes to inspect said wrists, but just sees his veins running along them, no spot for webs to come out. Bummer. But! Just because they’re not on his wrists doesn’t mean he won’t have natural webs. Maybe they’re somewhere else. He needs to look at a spider’s anatomy. Now’s one of those times where he really wishes he knew just what spider bit him. He knows the general species was a black widow, after smacking the poor thing out of pure instinct when he felt the bite, but those scientists injected the spider with… Everything. Spliced it seven million different ways. 

What other things are inside him?

Tony ran his own tests, but apart from figuring out his specific enhancements, it didn’t do much on nailing down the spider DNA that’s running rampant inside him.

And seemingly running even more rampant in this universe, in this body.

Another glance at the tablet tells him he has two minutes left.

One hundred and twenty seconds.

Now one hundred and fourteen seconds.

One hundred and ten seconds.

One hundred-

Okay he needs to think of something else.

What if Peter starts molting? Spiders do that, right? Peter doesn’t want to molt. He likes his skin, he would very much like to keep it. Forever, if he has the choice. What if those Morlocks did something to him? Tim said in the reports this body had powers, they just became more enhanced with each… New incarnation. Each time a soul was shoved inside it the powers grew. Maybe they did something. 

It’d be the perfect time to run experiments, wouldn’t it? Body’s vacant, the subject is already dead, might as well fuck around with the physical body until shoving a new host inside. But… Why? Peter doesn’t get it. And how? How the fuck did they yoink him away from his universe into this one?

He wonders if there’s any more information left at the base. There has to be something, maybe Jason would take him back-

The tablet starts blaring, timer at zero, and Peter jumps in his chair. 

Jason appears, seemingly out of nowhere, and taps on the screen to shut it up. He then sits down beside Peter, and uh oh, he feels like this is going to turn into a talk. He remembers his dad doing this, when he was really little. 

He’d get put in timeout, and immediately after, his dad would sit with him and they’d have to talk about why he got put in timeout. His dad was always big about Peter realizing the consequences of his actions. 

Maybe that was what people advised online. Maybe Jason googled what he should do after putting a kid in timeout. 

“You can’t keep biting me, Peter,” Jason says, leaning his elbows on the table, putting his whole weight into his arms. 

Peter feels wildly uncomfortable, so he doesn’t say anything, just lets Jason continue, “I think I get it, though.” Huh? “You’re part spider, right? And, despite how much you obviously hate it, you’re pretty tiny.” Yep, Peter hates that. “And spiders really only have one way to defend themselves besides running away: biting.”

Oh.

Interesting theory. 

Jason keeps going, “So, I get it. You get upset and you bite, just like a spider would. But, and this part is very important, you have to stop biting.”

In response to that, Peter chews on his tongue, finally feeling the pokey bits of his newfound fangs. Jason leans over, knocks his hand into Peter, “Ya listening?”

Peter nods, still quiet. Jason keeps watching him for a beat more, and then says, “What sounds good for lunch?”

And Peter could leave it at that. He served his timeout, he let Jason spit his theory out (a very good theory but Peter will probably think about way too much), and he should just move on to lunch. Except…

“I have fangs!” Peter blurts as Jason moves to stand from the table.

Jason falls back into his chair, and blinks at Peter a few times, “Fangs?” He questions, looking confused.

Peter nods, chewing on his bottom lip before he peels his lips back with his hands, showing off his teeth. Jason leans in, putting a hand on the back of Peter’s head as if to steady him. Peter can kind of see Jason from where he’s leaning back, but only just. 

“Holy shit, you have fangs,” Jason whispers.

It’s a little funny, but he doesn’t laugh since Jason is right in his face. Eventually, Jason leans back, expelling a long and overdrawn sigh from himself. Peter drops his own hands, and closes his mouth tightly. And then, Jason starts laughing. So fucking hard he actually hits his hand against the table. 

“Oh my god, Peter! You’ve been teething!” Jason exclaims between his laughs. 

Peter rolls his eyes, “Yeah, dumbass, I figured that out exactly one minute into my ten minute timeout.”

Jason’s laughs subside, and he just has a silly smile on his face. “I still think my first idea is pretty solid.”

Another eye roll, “Me too. I think it’s both.” Jason nods, silent, and then says, “So we need to get ya some chew toys.”

That makes Peter really want to fucking bite Jason. So much so he actually jolts in his chair a little, leaning forward, towards Jason’s hand that rests on the table. He snatches his hand away, and gives Peter a very strong look, “No biting!” He says firmly. Peter just bares his teeth at him, showing off his new biting tools.

“I don’t need chew toys! I’m not a dog, you ass!”

Jason gives him an “are you stupid?” look, which Peter doesn’t appreciate. “I know you’re not a dog. You’re my teeny tiny baby spider. Don’t they make chew toys for kids?”

My teeny tiny baby spider. 

Peter is going to skate right through that, and pretend Jason never said it. “Yeah, for babies, which I’m not!”

Another “are you stupid?” look. Jason then pulls his tablet toward him, and starts typing away. He must find what he wants, because he pushes it back to Peter. “I’m talking about shit like this, you feral fucking child.”

On the tablet is some website, opened to a page all about “sensory chews”. Hm. Peter scrolls through the page, sees a lot of necklaces and handheld things that advertise themselves as either a ‘chew necklace’ or just a ‘chewy’ item. Huh. 

“Pick out a few. If it stops you biting me, I’m all for it,” Jason says, standing up from his chair and going to rummage in the kitchen. He starts pulling out boxed macaroni and some stuff to make sandwiches. Peter hesitates for a minute, and then just clicks on two random ones. He pushes the tablet away, moving to join Jason in the kitchen. 

“Here, make your sandwich, I’ll go order them.”

Jason handed Peter a loaf of bread, returning to the tablet. He ignores the man, feeling really fucking childish for ordering chew toys, and just goes about making his sandwich. Jason reenters the kitchen, and continues making the mac and cheese, and Peter asks him how he’d like his sandwich made.

Again… Domestic.

Peter feels so fucking weird.

The first night in his bedroom is weird. He can hear Jason sleeping in the next room, calming and deep breathes, a steady heartbeat. It helps calm him down, but he’s also just staring at the ceiling, watching the batsignal move around in lazy circles. He quietly slides out of bed, as if Jason is the one with enhanced hearing, and unplugs his tablet from where it’s charging on his desk. He goes back to his bed, opens up YouTube, and resettles himself.

He searches up a few of his favorite YouTubers but they either don’t exist here or they don’t make YouTube videos, which fucking sucks. So he just types in Minecraft, finds somebody with decent enough views, and clicks on the video. He props the tablet against the wall, turns on his side, and squeezes both of his Robins to his chest. 

The last place may have been a little louder than this one, but Peter actually misses the noise. 

It was distracting.

“Peter, wake up!”

Peter gasps, sitting up so quickly he smacks his head on whatever is directly in front of him. He winces, hand flying to his forehead. He opens his eyes, looking around to see what the fuck is in front of him, and finds himself on… A bus. What the fuck? He whips this way and that, trying to figure just what in the shit fuck is going on when somebody grabs his shoulder. He shrieks, embarrassingly loud, and looks behind him to see who it was.

Ned.

It’s Ned!

Ned, who looks absolutely terrified, hand still on Peter’s shoulder. “Dude, are you okay?”

His Ned. Peter could cry right now. He turns around so fast he gives himself whiplash, hands clinging to the bus seat as he sits up on his knees to look at Ned. “Dude!” Peter exclaims, eyes going misty.

Ned blinks at him, then smiles, “Dude!” And just goes along with whatever the fuck Peter’s on. Because that’s Ned! His best friend Ned, who just rolls with whatever Peter says or does. He wants to hug him so bad. 

“What’s going on outside, dude? Is it… You know?” Ned asks, turning away from Peter to look out his window.

Peter looks over, expecting to see Rhino being an absolute ass or Vulture going stupid, going crazy. Instead he sees… What the fuck is that? It looks like a flying donut. Or an onion ring. It’s a spaceship of some kind, Peter thinks, but he doesn’t know what. When Peter looks at it fully, his senses start going crazy, as if just now kicking in. Every hair he has on his body stands straight up, and his brain is blaring CODEREDCODEREDCODERED so fucking loud he winces at the volume. What the hell is happening?

“Are you gonna go after it?” Ned whispers, drawing Peter’s attention back to his best friend. 

Everything in Peter is screaming at him to fucking not do that, to turn his back on the onion ring ship and pretend it doesn’t exist. But there’s a piece of his brain, the part that worships the ground Tony Stark walks on (it’s only gotten smaller and smaller over the years), that demands he suit up and throw himself at the fugly fucking ship. 

His throat is dry, and it aches as he tries to swallow. “Um, I should, shouldn’t I?” He looks at the ship, then back at Ned, and his best friend just has this look of pure unadulterated trust on his face that Peter feels sick looking at him. 

What did he ever do to deserve Ned’s unconditional love and support?

Ned says, “The Avengers probably have it under control.”

He says it so damn earnestly, trying to make Peter feel better about not doing his fucking duty as Spider-Man, that Peter realizes he does have to head for the ship. Because, sure, maybe the Avengers do have it under control, but on the off chance that they don’t, Peter can’t let Ned or Aunt May or any other innocent person get hurt because he was too fucking chicken shit to do his job. 

“Cause a distraction?” Peter asks, and Ned gives him a blinding smile, jumps out of his chair, and starts screaming, “We’re all gonna die!” 

It works, obviously, and everybody runs to their side of the bus, screaming when they catch sight of the ship. Peter throws himself to the now vacated side, suiting up, when he catches MJ’s eyes. He nods at her, and she whispers, “Are you coming back?”

Huh? 

Why wouldn’t he come back? Does she mean to the school bus?

“Um, maybe? Might get caught up with everything, ya know?” He means the Avengers, with Tony, with all the shit that comes with after taking down the big bad.

She just keeps staring at him. Through him. Peter should be exiting the fucking bus right now, lest any of his classmates turn around and see him, but there’s something in MJ’s eyes that makes him stay. She finally says, “Don’t come back, Peter.”

What the hell is going on? “Why not?” Peter asks, something uneasy settling deep in his belly. He needs to get off the bus. Now.

“Don’t you like Jason?” MJ says, still staring at him, unblinking. Peter doesn’t really know what to say, his brain not really computing the fact that MJ just mentioned Jason. How do they know each other? Again, what the hell is going on?

“Don’t you like Jason?” MJ asks again, standing up from her seat. 

Peter gulps, feeling scared suddenly, not really knowing why. MJ is MJ. She’d never hurt him. Never be able to. So why is he leaning away from her? Why isn’t he leaving the bus?

“Yeah. Yes! I do like Jason,” Peter answers, finally, and thanks everything above that MJ blinks. 

She’s standing in front of him now, eye to eye, and Peter takes a deep breath. She tilts her head, smiles just a bit, and says, “Then don’t come back,” And then she shoves him. He expects to hit the back of the bus, the window behind him, but instead he just falls.

And falls.

And falls.

He jolts awake, laying flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling. He sees the batsignal circling, over and over again. His tablet is off, so there’s no other light in the room. Peter fumbles around, slapping his hand against the bed until he finds at least one of his Robins, the stuffie one. He yanks it to himself immediately, squeezing it so hard he’s afraid he might rip it. Attempting to regulate his breathing, Peter breathes in for four seconds, and then out for four. He does it a few times, before he feels collected enough to just breathe, and not count.

Peter rolls over, and taps his tablet, checking the time.

1:35 AM

He sighs, rolling back to his back, and wonders what the fuck he’s supposed to do now because he sure as shit is not going to be able to go back to sleep.

“I haven’t seen any of ‘em in the Alley, but then again, I haven’t really been looking. Mostly because I don’t give a shit.”

Jason’s awake. 

He’s awake and talking to someone.

“Well, this is a formal request to keep an eye out for them,” Oracle says, sounding torn between being amused and irritated. 

“I don’t know. What’s in it for me?” Jason teases, and Peter can almost see the smirk on his face. 

“I’ll send you the picture Nightwing took of Spider sleeping with his stuffed Robin.”

What the fuck! Peter’s going to beat the actual shit out of Dick. What kind of asshole just takes somebody’s picture like that? And now Babs is using it to force Jason to do something? As if the stupid lug would agree.

“Deal,” Jason says, not even two seconds later.

What the fuck! Peter hates everyone. The entire Batfamily. They’re just mean old losers. He turns over so his back is to the wall (his back to Jason’s bedroom), and tries to squeeze his eyes closed, forcing himself back to sleep.

With his eyes closed, though, all he sees is MJ’s unblinking eyes and all he feels are her hands on his chest, pushing. His eyes fly open and he sits up in bed. He’s not going to be able to go back to sleep. Not like this.

He blows out the air in his lungs, puffing his lips out in the process, and swings his legs over the bed to the floor. Standing, he makes sure he at least has his stuffed Robin, and decides to bravely leave his bedroom, and head for… Jason’s. 

Peter thinks back to his first night with Jason. His episode when he tried to go to sleep, and how Jason’s solution was to have Peter sleep on the couch beside him. It was humiliating, but it really did work. So, Peter decides to fuck it, and heads straight for the man’s room. He makes himself feel better by the fact that he won’t be waking Jason up.

Jason’s door is shut, but he still hears him talking to Babs so he steels his nerves and knocks three times in quick succession. There’s a pause, before Jason’s footsteps thump quickly to the door, yanking it open, his eyes already looking down so their eyes meet each other’s. 

“What’s wrong, kid?” Jason asks, eyebrows scrunched together in worry.

He squeezes his Robin to him, takes a deep breath, and says, “I had another nightmare.”

Jason’s face immediately softens, and he opens the door wider, motioning for Peter to come in. The only light in the room is the lamp on the side table, but it’s enough for Peter to see. He walks a few steps inside the room before he stops, unsure where to go or what to do. Jason lays a gentle hand on his shoulder and guides him to the bed. “C’mon, kid, you can bunk down in here tonight.”

Peter obeys, and crawls up on the bed. Only one side is unmade, so Peter scooches over to the tucked in side, sliding himself under the blankets. He presses his face into his Robin, and watches Jason over the top of the stuffed vigilante’s head. Jason smiles down at him, and settles himself back on his side. 

“We’ll talk later, O,” Jason says, hand going to his ear where Peter figures his comm is. “Of course. Stop by tomorrow. You and Spider both.”

Jason hums an affirmative, and then tosses his comm onto his side table. He maneuvers himself to laying down, reaching over to turn the lamp off, before he turns on his side and faces Peter. “I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it?”

Peter quickly shakes his head, burying himself further into the pillows and blankets. Everything smells like Jason, and he finds his eyes already sliding closed. Jason hums again, reaching a hand over to brush Peter’s hair away from his eyes, and then says, “Goodnight, kid.”

Peter mumbles, face shoved into the pillows, “Goodnight, Jay.”

Jason was already out of bed and making breakfast when Peter woke up. They didn’t talk about the nightmare, and Peter saw fit to never mention it again. They went about their morning, getting dressed and leaving the apartment without Jason ever even attempting to ask about the nightmare. He’s not sure what’s happening, anyway. The nightmares are so real, more like memories than dreams, but MJ wouldn’t have done that to him. Wouldn’t have pushed him. She also mentioned Jason! That obviously didn’t happen. 

But the stuff before… With Ned and the ship. That felt like a memory. Like something that happened before. 

And maybe it did. 

Peter doesn’t remember a damn fucking thing that happened after the field trip. He was on the bus, and then he was in the pits. Was the ship real? Did that really happen? It made sense to Peter. He was on the bus, saw the ship, and did his job as Spider-Man and threw himself at it. 

And then what?

Will he have a nightmare about it tonight? Find out the rest?

“Peter?”

Babs’s soft voice brings Peter back to the present. 

He’s sitting in a butterfly chair, tucked into a corner of the library. There’s a book in his lap but he’s not really reading it. It just sits open on a random page, taunting Peter. Shaking his head, he closes the book and looks up at Babs, who’s smiling at him like he might fall into a million pieces if she looks too hard.

Shit, he fucking might at this rate.

“Are you alright, Peter?” Babs ask, scooting a little closer so their knees knock together. 

Peter decides to think of the answer. He feels okay-ish. Tired, if anything. There’s a new pain in the back of his throat, where his tonsils are, and he’s trying not to think about it. He’s also a itty bitty teeny tiny bit scared. 

His nightmares are not fun. And he’s afraid of what memories are hidden behind them. There has to be a reason he forgot, right? Like his brain was protecting him. 

Whatever.

Babs is waiting for an answer. So Peter sighs, tries for a smile that definitely falls flat, and then just says, “Could be better.”

Babs nods, eyes him for a moment longer, and then he actually sees an idea pop into her head. She sits up straight, so quickly it sends a few stray red hairs falling from her hair tie. “Follow me!” She demands, rolling away before Peter can even ask where they’re going.

He shrugs, setting his book back on the shelf he yanked it from, and follows behind her. Babs leads him into a room behind the historical section, flicking the light on as she enters the door. It shows off an array of things, and Peter automatically spies a 3D printer. He also sees a couple more modern computers than the one he and Jason used on his first visit there. Peter sees a shelf on the far wall with a projector, microphones, and some cameras. 

Turning to Babs, he waits for an explanation. She gives him a blinding smile, “It’s Gotham Library’s newest activity space! Donated, of course, by the Martha Wayne Foundation,” She gestures to the plaque on the open door, stating just that, “We just finished getting everything in over the weekend. I haven’t had the chance to fiddle with everything yet.”

She heads over to the 3D printer, which is really the only thing Peter cares about. “The computers are self explanatory, but the mics and cameras are for video conferences, school projects, or even podcasts recording! The projector is for really anything you want it to be for. But this,” She taps a single finger to the printer, “Is something else. I’ve always wanted to mess with one, but never really had the chance. And I’d do it today, but that’d leave the front with no there. I thought, with you here, maybe you could help me out!”

Peter immediately starts inspecting it, noting it’s a few generations behind the ones Midtown has in every lab. Babs starts pulling out the filaments and the toolkit, and pushes them over to Peter on the table.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” Peter asks, really fucking unsure about fucking with this thing. 

Babs shrugs, hands him the manual, and says, “Go crazy, Pete. If it breaks, I’ll just get Bruce to buy us another one. Or Tim. They won’t even be mad if I tell them you did it.”

“Tim?” Peter questions. 

“He does a lot with the charities under Wayne Industries. Bruce is in charge of the Martha and Thomas Wayne Foundations, but him and Tim still work together on a lot of stuff. Tim came up with the idea for this room, and Bruce pushed it through.”

Oh.

Duh.

Tim’s well paying job is for Wayne Industries. His tablet makes a lot more sense now.  

“Anyways! Jason said you’re here for a few hours, so go crazy. I’ll come check on you in a little while. Keep the door shut, though, so nobody comes in. The room isn’t quite open yet.”

After that, Babs leaves the room, with Peter shutting the door behind her. He turns, looking at the printer, and sets about printing the tester. It’ll take it a while, so better to get that started than just fucking around.

While the tester was going, Peter was designing. 

He’s not even sure they’ll even work, but he might as well try. He’s felt a little bereft without his webshooters. And his suit. And his tracker. And his phone. And his-

Okay, so basically Peter’s felt fucking lost without everything from his universe! Which brings him here, to creating a very basic webshooter design. So basic it hurts, honestly. Peter’s first set wasn't very good either, made out of recycled bits and pieces of trash he found, so at least these would be better than those. He’ll just have to reinforce them later.

Not that he even has the web fluid for them. They’d just be… Like a safety blanket.

Like his Robins.

Hm. Now that Peter’s thinking about it, could he use some filament to create new web fluid? Obviously it would harden, so he’d have to dilute it with something. He could try-

Try what? The filament isn’t even his! It belongs to the library, to Babs! He can’t just steal it, no matter how badly he wants his webs back. 

… Well, Jason did say Tim would be interested in Peter’s powers, in him being Spider-Man. He can’t really show off his Spider-Man abilities without his webs, now could he? Maybe Tim would give him the things he needs to make them. He’d probably want to watch. Peter could do that! He’d actually like to do that! He doesn’t know how smart Tim is, but he seems to have enough brain cells that he could keep up with Peter. 

He pulled the tester out, inspected it enough to be satisfied, and then sent his webshooters through. 

“Oh, you got it!” Babs says. Peter turns around in the desk chair, finding Babs a few feet away from him. He nods, holding up the little boat the printer made. “It’s so cute!” Babs coos, taking it from Peter’s hands. “What else are you making?”

And Peter thinks he maybe, probably, most definitely should’ve asked first, but oh well! “Uh, just something I had back home.”

Babs leans into the computer, wrinkles appearing on her forehead as she tries to make out what it is, “Mm, yeah, this looks way more Tim and Bruce’s speed. But cool! Jason texted and said he’s running a bit behind. Alley stuff can be… Time consuming.”

Oh? Peter figured he was out doing Red Hood things but he didn’t think it’d be all day. He feels like a baby with how much he misses the stupid prick.

“But! I asked Tim to bring us lunch, and he should be here any minute now. So let’s lock this room up and head to the front for food.”

Peter looks at the printer, and then nods, following behind Babs. His stomach growls as he walks, and he tries not to be embarrassed by it. Babs pretends not to notice, which is nice of her, and by the time they get to the front desk Tim is already standing there, bags of food in hand. Next to him stands… Damian.

Oh fuck, Peter’s so glad he didn’t wear the fucking Robin shirt Jason had picked out for him this morning. 

Wait a fucking minute. Did Jason pick that out on purpose? What an asshole! If Peter hadn’t just had a timeout over biting, he would totally plan on biting Jason when he sees him later. 

“Hey, Pete! Hey, Babs!” Tim greets when he sees them, shuffling the bags until he has a hand free to wave. 

“Hi, Tim. I didn’t know you were coming, Dami!” 

Damian nods at Babs, and then turns to look down at Peter, “Hello, Peter.”

“Hello, Damian,” Peter says, mimicking his speech. 

“Alright, we’ve all said hey to each other, let’s eat!” Tim declares, unloading the bags and taking all of the food out. Babs wheels around, and they all follow, pulling chairs up to the desk. 

Thankfully, it’s not Bat Burger. Not that Peter doesn’t like the place, he’s just Bat Burgered out at this moment in his Gotham life. Looking at the bag, Peter sees it’s some place called Planet Krypton.

“I’ve wanted to go to Planet Krypton since they opened in Gotham. Was it really busy?” Babs asked, sipping on her drink.

Tim gives a so-so gesture, “I mean, people were talking a lot of shit outside the joint, if you mean busy that way. Ya know how Gothamites are, pretty loyal to Bat Burger.”

“At least Bat Burger does not have its staff dressed as superheroes. I felt very bad for the young man dressed as Wonder Woman,” Damian says, blotting his lips with a napkin.

Huh? “Doesn’t she wear, like, a leotard?” Peter asks, peeling back the bread of his sandwich to see what was inside it.

“Yes. Which is why I felt bad for the young man. His outfit was rather tight.”

Oh.

Oh.

Gross.

“I think they get to choose which super they dress up as. Right?” Tim asks, looking at Babs. She nods, stealing some fries from Tim. “Yeah, remember that one time all the workers at the one in Metropolis chose to be Green Lantern?”

Babs makes a face after chewing on her stolen fries for a minute, “Yeah, Bat Burger’s fries are loads better than those.”

“And the prices are far more fair,” Damian states, glaring at the receipt stapled to the bag near him. 

“Well, it’s only a matter of time before it burns down, so we might as well enjoy the place while we can. Crappy fries and all.”

A matter of time before it burns down. 

This place is hell on earth, huh?

“Is there a bad guy here that burns down fast food restaurants?” 

“More like a guy here that burns down everything. His name is Firefly.”

Wow. So creative. Peter’s so impressed. 

Okay, he’s being a little mean. After all, he regularly fights a guy named Rhino, that, shocker, looks like a Rhino. Tony says he hasn’t earned the creative super villians yet. Peter doesn’t ever want to earn them. He’s heard snippets about the Ten Rings and shit, he’s fucking good, thanks.

They continue eating, only breaking the silence to talk shit on how bad the food is, which Peter interjects his opinion of, “Nothing can beat Burger Frog’s fries. They’re coated in some secret seasoning that my friend MJ swears is an addictive chemical compound that would have the FDA bulldoze the place to the ground, but they’re so fucking good. Ned and I like to get the leap pad of fries, it’s, like, 3,000 calories but worth it.”

It’s silent for a minute, before Damian says, “Is there a frog hero where you are from?”

And… What? “Why would there be a frog hero?” Peter asks, head tilting to the side.

“Why else would it be called Burger Frog?”

Well, Peter doesn’t actually know why the place is called that. So, he shrugs, “Nah. I think the owner just likes frogs. All the workers wear green shirts and frog hats. The stools at the counter are also toads, it’s really funny. And when you leave, there’s a frog statue by the door that says ‘have a frog-tastic day’. Ned gets scared every time, so obviously MJ loves it.”

“Yes, obviously,” Damian says. “I would agree with your statement that the owner seems to simply enjoy frogs. As weird as that is.”

Another shrug from Peter, “Foods good, which is all I care about. And it always seems to survive every attack, even when the other buildings around it get demolished during an Avengers fight.”

“Stuff is regularly destroyed by the Avengers?” Tim asks, leaning over his food to get closer to Peter. 

He nods, not finishing his sandwich, “Yeah. When a guy on the team has the entire schtick of ‘Hulk smash!’ things tend to get destroyed pretty easy. But, ya know, what can ya do? Tony pays for everything after.”

Tim and Babs share a look, while Damian just stares into Peter’s soul. “Mm. Money is the way to solve many problems.”

“For Tony? Yeah,” Peter snorts, “If there’s a problem, he’ll just throw money at it until it gets fixed.”

Another look. Peter really doesn’t like it, but Damian keeps talking, so he ignores how angry it makes him feel. “Does he throw money at your problems?”

“Well, considering I’m the problem… Not really. He usually just ignores me until I go away.”

And judging by the downright murderous looks on the faces around him, Peter said the wrong fucking thing. Oops. Why is he talking so much anyway? He should be eating! But his sandwich is yucky, he thinks. Who puts cucumbers on a sandwich? Even taking them off, Peter still tasted the cucumber-ness, which made him want to gag. So, what’s to do if he’s not eating? Talk, apparently. 

Peter’s too good at talking.

He really needs to learn to shut the fuck up.

“Did he say that to you?” Babs asked, looking horrified and angry all at the same time.

Say what? Oh… “I mean, not in those words, I guess?” A Family Feud buzzer sounds off in his brain as he realizes that was again the wrong thing to say, “Look, he just didn’t want me involved with everything. But I kept getting involved because it’s, like, physically impossible for me to not get involved when I see stuff happening. Tony just… Didn’t get that. He thought being strict and a little mean would get through to me.”

“A little mean?” Tim echoes, pouting. “Nobody, especially not a grown man, should be being mean to you, Peter.”

He scrunches his face up, and starts waving his hands around, “No, no, no, I think I’m saying it all wrong. He did the whole tough love thing but it just didn’t work on me. I kept telling him everything that was happening, and he was actually listening to me, he just didn’t tell me that. So it all got fucked up. And then he took my suit-”

Peter! He screams in his own brain. Shut the fuck up! Good fucking god!

“He took away your suit?” Damian hisses, eyes narrowed into slits. “You just said you cannot stop yourself from participating in dangerous actions.” Okay, Peter doesn’t think he said that, but Damian keeps going, “So you involve yourself in things that may or may not bring you harm, and Tony takes away the one thing that could keep you protected from those things?”

…

See, when Damian lays it out, it sounds real bad. Like, real fucking bad. But if Peter thinks about it, he can rationalize everything. Tony was just doing what he thought was right. Did Peter almost die without his suit? Sure! Does Tony know that? Hell no! Everything worked out in the end, didn’t it? 

Peter angrily sips his drink, totally not pouting in his chair. “Tony tries his best,” He grumbles, “Sometimes it’s not the right thing, but ya gotta give him credit for trying. Right?”

Tim shakes his head a little, “Sure, Pete, give him credit. But you also gotta recognize that he’s not exactly trying his best for you.”

Peter doesn’t have to recognize shit, fuck you very much, Timothy. 

So he turns his head, ignoring them, glaring at the Gothamites walking by the window. Babs sighs, and seemingly wanting to change the subject, says, “Peter’s printing something pretty cool from the 3D printer. He said it had to do with something he had back home.”

Peter’s refusing to look at them still, but Tim attempts to make conversation, “Really? Mind if I check it out?”

He keeps ignoring them. There’s a large sigh that comes from Tim, before Damian speaks, “May I look at what you are printing?” 

Peter turns his head, just enough so he can look at Damian, and says, “Yes.”

Tim throws his hands up, “What the fuck?”

Damian’s lips twitch, and he says, “Perhaps you should learn when to stop talking, Drake.” Yeah, Peter very much agrees. Sure, Damian was also saying some shit Peter didn’t like, but Damian’s Robin. That grants him a few privileges that Tim just doesn’t have. 

“Why don’t you two go check on it? Tim and I will clean up,” Babs says, shooing them away. 

Damian stands, waiting for Peter to do the same, before they start walking away. They get about halfway to the activity room before Damian interrupts the silence, “As odd as it may seem to you, Peter, the family has grown to care for you a great deal. I hypothesize that part of it has to do with your similarities to Todd.”

Peter frowns, “So you guys only like me because I remind you of Jason?”

Damian stops walking, shooting a hand out to stop Peter. He allows Damian’s arm to stop him from walking, even though he could easily just walk through it. Instead, he faces Damian, looking up at him as the boy says, “Do not put words into my mouth, Peter.”

He looks very serious, eyes boring straight into Peter’s soul. All Peter can do is nod as he continues, “You remind them of Todd, yes. But you are entirely different from him in several ways. My family is fond of you. For the ways you remind them of Todd, and the ways you do not.”

Peter shifts his weight from one foot the other, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s still frowning, can’t seem to stop, but Damian doesn’t seem to mind.

“Drake is an idiot on the best of days,” Peter snorts, “But he means well. You are obviously very defensive over Tony, but you must allow us our reservations about the man. After all, we are outsiders. You would know your relationship with him the best.”

Peter feels like the end of what Damian said was just to make him feel better, like maybe Damian doesn’t really believe it. But whatever. He’s right. Peter knows Tony, they don’t. He’s spent the last two years dealing with the man. These guys are just making assumptions based on what Peter says, which isn’t fair, because sometimes Peter’s brain is four steps behind his mouth. 

He drops his arms, and feels the frown leave his face, “Fine.”

And that was that. They return to walking toward the activity room, and Peter very firmly shoves all thoughts of Tony out of his mind. There’s no reason to dwell on those thoughts, anyway. 

Damian unlocks the door with the key Babs handed him, and they walk in. The printer is still going, and Damian moves to the computer to inspect his blueprints. He hums, and turns to Peter, “What are these for? I cannot discern a purpose.”

Peter smiles, excited to talk about them. “I call them webshooters! I wear them on my wrists to shoot webs out. It’s how I swing around the city instead of using a grapple gun.”

Damian looks between him and the printer.

“You swing by webs?” Peter nods fast, making himself sick. “Like a spider,” Damian murmurs. And then, “How do you make the webbing?”

Oh. Peter’s favorite topic. 

“A mixture of salicylic acid, toluene, methanol, carbon tetrachloride, potassium carbonate, and ethyl acetate. I store it in cartridges that I can attach to my webshooters. Obviously I don’t have access to any of that now, but-”

Damian holds his hand up, “I can get you access to those chemicals.”

“Really?” Peter grabs Damian’s hand, bouncing on his heels, “Reallyreallyreally?”

Damian pauses, body frozen, and Peter’s about to drop his hand like it’s on fire when the boy takes a deep breath and continues, “Yes, really. Next time you are at the manor, all of those materials will be ready for you.”

Peter hates the fact that he squeals, but he does, and jumps around a bit (still holding Damian’s hand). “That’s so awesome! Thank you, Damian!”

Damian smiles, just a little, and says, “Of course, Peter.”

“Aw, they’re bonding.”

Peter whips around to the open doorway, and Damian gently pulls his hand away from Peter. Jason’s there, leaning against the door frame, smirk on his face. He looks a bit sweaty, and like he just recently used a baby wipe to clean his face off, but he’s here. Peter runs at him, full sprint, colliding into him. Jason oofs, stumbling backward, but his hands come up to grab onto Peter. 

“Hey to you too, kiddo,” Jason says.

Peter hugs him, probably too tight, and then lets go. He takes a step back, grinning up at Jason, “I missed you! And Tim’s annoying.”

There’s a guffaw, and Peter spies Tim behind Jason. His face is all screwed up, and he’s rubbing his temples, “I didn’t even do anything! Or, well, I didn’t do anything that Damian didn’t do.”

Peter sticks his tongue out at him, “Yeah, but I like Damian.”

Another guffaw, and Jason laughs, patting Peter on the shoulder. “Missed you too, asshole.”

Damian pushes Jason out of the way, exiting the room. He curls his lip when he sees Tim having an existential moment, turns to Peter and says, “See you soon, Peter. Goodbye, Todd,” Before grabbing Tim by the collar of his shirt and nearly dragging him out of the library. Jason just smiles as he watches them go, and then drapes his arm over Peter’s shoulder.

“Having a good day?”

Peter shrugs, “I’m having a day.”

Jason purses his lips, thinks about it, and nods. “That’s fair.” He walks into the room, checking out the new computers and stuff on the shelf, before making his way to the printer. He does like Damian, inspecting the blueprints, before grunting. “The fuck is all this?”

Peter bounds over, getting way closer to Jason than he did Damian, “My webshooters. ‘M making them. Damian said I could go to the manor and make my webs, too.”

Jason blinks a few times. “I think I missed a few steps, but alright, sure. We’ll go to the manor tomorrow. Alfred’ll be happy to feed ya.” Jason keeps looking at the printer. “How long are these gonna take?” 

Peter checks the time, “Couple hours. It’ll run without us here, though, so we can just leave. Come back tomorrow.”

Jason shakes his head, moving to the door. He shuts it, turning to face Peter, and crosses his arms. Peter so does not like where this is going. 

“Looks like we gotta coupla hours to kill, huh?” Jason asks, obviously rhetorically, so Peter doesn’t answer. He kicks out a chair, falling into it, gesturing for Peter to do the same. He doesn’t. Jason continues, “Let’s talk about these nightmares, kid.”

Chapter Text

“No,” Peter says, turning his back on Jason.

The man snorts, but doesn’t move to make Peter face him. All he says is, “Wasn’t asking, short stack.”

Peter has made it 32 hours without biting Jason but, goddammit, Jason is really making it hard to get to hour 33. He continues ignoring him, crossing his arms, glaring at the shelf in front of him.

“Pete, you can’t sleep-” Peter whirls at that, interrupting Jason, “Not true! I totally sleep! How else would I have nightmares, stupid head?”

A brief moment of silence. “Okay,” Jason rubs at his eyes, “You don’t sleep well. Even when you’re with me, kid, you’re not exactly peaceful.”

Wait, what? What the hell does he do when he’s with Jason? 

“Have I hurt you?” Peter whispers, thinking about how scared he gets during the nightmares, and wondering if he lashes out in his sleep. Shit, has he attacked Jason?

“No, you haven’t hurt me. But you whine a lot in your sleep. I hear a lot of I’m sorry’s come from you. I can’t imagine you feel well rested after all that.”

He whines in his sleep? 

That’s so embarrassing. 

Peter pouts, kicking at the chair that Jason wanted him to sit in. He doesn’t put much effort into it, so the chair just squeaks along the floor. Jason watches it absently, and keeps talking, “Talking about it could make ya feel better, kid.”

Or it could make Peter puke from the emotional vulnerability. 

Okay, wait a minute. He’s acting a bit too much like Tony, and if Aunt May were here she’d probably knock him upside the head. That was basically her one rule to him spending more time with the man: don’t act like him. Peter sighs, falling into the chair finally. He looks around the room for a minute, before finally settling on Jason’s earnest face. He wants to punch him. And bite him. Or… Something! There’s a lot of energy thrumming underneath Peter’s skin right now.

Usually when he has restless nights (nightmares included), he exhausts himself as Spider-Man. But that isn’t an option right now. Much to Peter’s every growing disappointment. 

Jason’s still waiting for Peter to talk, sitting so fucking quietly that Peter wants to scream. Instead, he talks. 

“I don’t remember getting here, right?” Peter starts, picking at invisible lint on his Superman shirt. Jason doesn’t answer, which Peter didn’t really expect him to. “When I woke up in the jello, all I remembered was I was on a field trip. That first nightmare, when Dick was babysitting me, I don’t know where I was. Somewhere else. It was all dusty, and Tony was there, and he kept talking about a plan?” Peter’s voice goes up as he questions himself, “I don’t know. It was so confusing, and then I just couldn’t breathe. Like I was back in the jello, drowning.”

Jason scoots his chair closer to Peter, not reaching for him, but being close enough to do so.

“The one last night, I was on the bus. I saw a ship, a spaceship, and Ned asked me if I was going after it, ya know, as Spider-Man. I knew I was supposed to, so I was getting ready to go when MJ asked me if I was coming back. Then… Then she told me not to. Come back. Why would she say that?” He whispers the question, mainly asking himself. 

Jason stays silent, letting Peter just talk. “I think some part of them were memories. Not all of it, because MJ wouldn’t act like that. Not ever. But… Parts of ‘em felt really real. Super real.”

“Have they helped ya out any?” 

At the question, Peter frowns, looking up at the man in front him, “Huh? How could they help me?”

“Help you remember. Are they jogging any other memories?”

Oh. Peter shakes his head. “Not really. I remembered something, at the manor, when Duke was talking about my soul. Something about the soul stone. I don’t know what that means, though.”

A hand goes to Jason’s face as he scratches at his chin, thinking, “I don’t know anything about a soul stone. Maybe Timmy does. Or Bruce. Hafta remember to ask ‘em later.”

“I don’t remember anything about those three months, though. Being here.”

Jason’s face does something funny, looking a little sick, before he shakes his head. “Yeah, well, don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard about it. “

Nice deflection, Peter thinks. Has Jason read the reports that Tim found? Not really fair, considering Peter hasn’t even got to read them yet. He wants to, though. He already knows Jason is not going to give him access to them. But they’re all at the manor, right? And Jason said they’d go there tomorrow, to meet with Damian. Maybe he could read the reports then…

Damian would certainly help him access them. 

“Sure,” Peter says in response, “Whatever. So, you got your wish. We talked all about my boo hoo baby nightmares. Now what? Gonna google how to fix all my problems?”

Jason rolls his eyes, knocking his knees into Peter’s, “God, you’re so fucking annoying.”

Peter silently agrees with Jason, but he’s not going to say that, obviously. 

“But I did google it, asshole. And we’re basically doing everything all those advice blogs say. Nightlight, bedtime, getting enough sleep. Talking about it was in those blogs, too, so we can check that off.”

… Blogs?

Jason’s such a loser.

“I got a TV for your room, though. And a box of movies to go with it. You slept better with a movie going, yeah?”

Peter doesn’t want to admit it, but he nods his head. He really did like the movie going while he fell asleep. But, damn, if that doesn’t make him feel like a toddler. 

“And,” Of course Jason has more to say, “If you have a nightmare tonight, please tell me about it. Not tell me that you had one, but tell me about it . Explain it to me. I don’t think you’re a baby, Peter. And they’re not ‘boo hoo baby nightmares’. I have nightmares, too, ya know? So does Damian, even though he’d kill me if he knew that I told you that.”

Damian has nightmares? Peter wonders what about. Maybe growing up being trained by a place called the League of Assassins. That would probably give Peter nightmares. At least they’re not Nazis. Small blessing, Peter thinks.

“Now, Babs told me ya guys had Planet Krypton for lunch. She also said it fucking sucked. What’d you think?”

Peter could definitely talk about shitty fast food. He actually prefers talking about shitty fast food. It was his and Ned’s favorite pastime, honestly. So, Peter curls his legs up to his chest, settling into his chair, and jumps into the comparisons between Planet Krypton and Bat Burger, the sound of the 3D printer a constant background noise to their conversation.

Jason hits play on Finding Nemo , turning around to look at Peter in bed. He’s buried underneath his blanket, and one of Jason’s (that Peter very embarrassingly requested), holding his stuffed Robin in his arms while his Robin action figure lays on the pillows next to him. His nightlight is already going on, and Peter takes a long and deep breath. 

He’s not going to freak out over acting the age this body is. Okay?! He’s not going to freak out. So he’s acting like a ten-year-old. That’s okay! This body, despite being previously inhabited by two other kids, is ten. It stands to reason that the brain in this body is also ten. Right?! Ergo , Peter’s ten. 

That’s okay.

He’s okay.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks, standing by the bed, eyebrows furrowed.

Peter takes another deep breath, squeezes his Robin extra fucking hard, and says, “Yeah, I’m… Yeah. Good.” He gives a weak thumbs up, which, if judging by Jason’s face, does nothing but worry the man more.

“Okay…” Jason says, blinking away his worry, “Okay. I’ll be in my room if ya need me, kid. I’ll probably be awake, and even if I’m not , just wake me up. Got it?”

Peter nods, not answering, focusing instead on the movie going behind Jason. The guy takes the hint, shutting the light off, and closing Peter’s door until there’s just a sliver of light shining in from the living room.

He shuffles further under the blankets, covering half his face and squeezes his eyes closed. Just sleep, please just fucking sleep, he begs himself. 

When he wakes up to Tim’s voice in the living room, and Jason’s slightly whinier voice repeating everything Tim says, Peter almost jumps out of bed and does a fucking dance for joy.

Almost .

Instead he throws the blankets off of his body, and sprints to the dresser, yanking clothes out with little regard to what he’s grabbing. In ends up with him wearing some sweats, and a long sleeved shirt with a symbol he doesn’t recognize. He figures it’s some Justice League person.

Peter turns off the nightlight, the TV, and grabs his Robin action figure as he exits his bedroom. He finds Tim literally pulling at his own hair, with Jason grinning like a maniac at him. 

He thinks it must be a sibling thing, so he doesn’t question it. Jason looks over at him when he notices Peter’s out of his room, and his grin turns less evil supervillain and more soft. “Sleep well?”

Peter quickly nods, grabbing a q’tasba melon from the bowl Jason designated as the melon bowl. It also came with the rule that whatever was in the bowl was all Peter got to have for the day. He didn’t think that was fair, but Jason said too much of the fruit could give Peter a stomach ache so he was on a hard limit.

“What time is it?” Peter asks, sitting by Tim on the couch. He gives the man a bit of a feral smile, mouth full of half chewed melon, and nearly laughs when Tim’s entire body tenses. Despite that, Tim answers him, “A little after eight.”

Wow.

Peter slept a long time. Almost twelve entire hours. Was he really that tired? His body hadn’t felt exhausted, and Peter’s body is very quick to get fucking pissed at him for not sleeping enough. He once pulled an all nighter with Ned as they stayed up for a midnight release of a video game, and the next day Peter literally collapsed in the tower lab. Tony said he slept on the floor for three hours.

He still isn’t sure why Tony didn’t move him.

But! He hadn’t felt tired last night. He actually felt like he could’ve ran a marathon with how much pent up energy was flooding through his body. 

“Look what came,” Jason said, dropping something around Peter’s neck. He looks down, seeing the chew necklace he picked out the other day. 

Oh.

It’s pretty cool looking, honestly. 

Peter tried to pick one that would blend in as just a necklace, not a chew toy. It’s black, with a bright blue dragon curling around the front. At first glance, it looks like just any old necklace a kid would have. He brings it up to his mouth, and starts gnawing at it with his canines. 

Holy shit, it actually feels good.

The pressure against his teeth sends a wave of relief flooding through him. Like the type of relief you get when you’ve been standing for hours nonstop and finally get to lay down. He keeps chewing, melon forgotten, until Jason flicks him in the forehead. 

Peter glares up at him, but keeps biting the necklace. “Wuh?” He asks, voice muffled. 

Jason half smiles, “You still gotta eat, kid. And a melon ain’t enough. Alfred would probably jump for joy if we went over and had breakfast at the manor. Or I can make us something here.”

Peter clenches his jaw down, trying not to go too hard so he doesn’t break the thing right when he got it, and thinks. He likes Jason’s cooking, but he also likes Alfred’s. He’s also hungry now and doesn’t want to wait to eat at the manor. Well, he could probably eat Jason’s breakfast and Alfred’s. And still be hungry.

“Can I do both?” Peter asks, pulling the chew out of his mouth.

Jason purses his lips, hangs his head, and just says, “Yeah, ‘course you can have both.” And then he walks to the kitchen, pulling eggs out of the fridge. 

“Pete, you could probably ask him to burn the world to the ground and he wouldn’t even hesitate,” Tim says, tapping away on his phone. 

Oh?

Interesting. 

Peter eyes Jason as he cracks at least six eggs into the pan. He crawls on the couch, getting closer to Tim, who very much does not want Peter to get closer, judging by the look on his face. Loser. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would he do that?” Peter asks, settling on his knees right in front of Tim. 

It takes a minute to get an answer. A minute where Peter just listens to the spatula against the pan, and the toaster being pushed down. Tim finally answers, “Because he cares about you, Peter. So fucking much it’s a little scary sometimes,” He thinks for a moment, “A lot of the time.”

“It’s gonna suck,” Peter says, falling backwards on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as he just toys with the chew necklace instead of chewing it. Tim sits up, looking down at him, “What is?”

“Going home,” Peter admits, “It’s gonna suck.”

Tim’s dead fucking quiet, before he gives Peter a really sad smile, “Yeah. It is.”

Peter ate all six eggs, four pieces of toast, and the rest of his q’tasba melon. Tim watched in silent judgement, and then decided to comment on it when Peter said, “When are we going to the manor? I can’t wait to see what Alfred makes for breakfast!”

“How the fuck can you still be hungry…” Tim commented.

Peter rolled his eyes, “You already know I have a high metabolism, stupid head.”

“Stupid head?”

Jason laughs from where he's at the sink, washing dishes, “Yeah, it’s his new thing.” Tim curls his lip, but then turns back to Peter, “Can we run more tests at the manor, Peter? We just ran DNA on you, but I’d love to have a blood sample.”

And here it goes. 

Tim really does remind Peter a lot of Tony.

Oh well. Peter thinks he might like Tim a bit more than he likes Tony. He won’t say that out loud though. 

He shrugs, “Sure. Tony runs tests on me all the time, so nothing new.”

“I don’t like the sentence you just said to me, but Damian told me I gotta learn to shut up, so I’m gonna shut up right now. But just know that not commenting on that is killing me.”

Peter watches Tim, and it really does look like it’s physically hurting the guy to stay silent. How funny. Peter should say more things that make Tim a bit uncomfortable. Jason shuts the water off, and returns to the table, “Tony sounds like a dick.”

Tim’s eyes go wide, and he looks at Jason like he just killed a beloved family pet. There’s a brief moment of peace before tension descends on the place like a thick fog. He feels his mouth fill with that bitter liquid, a small but really fucking loud, part of his brain yelling to bite Jason.

“Uh, Jay-” Tim starts, but Jason waves him away, “Nah, Babs already told me all about the little conversation yesterday. And I’ll say it again: Tony sounds like a fucking dick.”

“Shut up,” Peter says, swallowing back the liquid ( venom , his brain whispers). Jason raises an eyebrow, mouth opening to say something again, so Peter repeats himself, “Shut up.”

Tim’s eyes ping pong between the two, but Jason’s stay locked on Peter’s. “I know ya idolize the guy, but listen, kid-”

“Don’t call me kid,” Peter says, voice low.

Jason pauses, and then his eyes narrow dangerously at Peter. There’s a brief moment where his sense pings, just a bit, as if warning Peter that his best course of action was to shut the fuck up. Peter’s not good at that, though, so he glares right back at Jason.

“ Peter ,” Jason emphasizes Peter’s name, almost like an insult, “I get you worship the ground Tony walks on, but it sounds like the guy doesn’t give a single fuck about you.”

Okay. Fucking hurtful. Peter keeps glaring, and says, “I don’t worship the ground he walks on, dumbass!” Out of everything, Peter took a lot of offense to Jason thinking he idolized Tony. Mostly because he did . He fucking used to idolize the man, until he had to basically work with him.

It’s really easy to see the flaws in a person when they’re your coworker.

“And Tony…” Peter continues, thinking for a minute, “He does care about me. In his own way. He just doesn’t show it in the best way! He’s an emotionally constipated billionaire, alright?”

Tim’s face does something at that, and he whispers, “Sounds fucking familiar,” But Jason and Peter ignore him. Jason leans back in his chair, but his face is still impassive. He crosses his arms over his chest, “He’s a grown ass man, yeah? Emotionally constipated or not, you’re a fucking kid, Peter. He shouldn’t be ignoring you, running tests on you, or taking away your suit.”

Oh. Jason said Babs told him about the conversation yesterday, but Peter didn’t know she told him everything . “It was a learning moment.”

Tim’s mouth falls open at that, and he actually jumps in, “What did you learn, Peter? That you couldn’t trust Tony?”

Fuck, these guys are really giving it to him, huh? His entire face scrunches up, and he kicks Tim in the shin. The man yelps, leaning down to rub at his leg, but Peter ignores him. 

“I can trust Tony. Just not… With everything. But I can trust him!”

Peter doesn’t know why he’s defending Tony this much. Jason and Tim are saying shit similar to what MJ always tells him, and he never goes this hard when talking with her. Maybe because MJ delivers it in such a deadpan tone that Peter doesn’t feel attacked. But he feels pretty fucking attacked right now. 

Jason interrupts his thoughts, “You’re going to go back to your universe in a few weeks,” And why does that reminder upset Peter so much?! “And when you do, we’re gonna be left here wondering who the fuck is there to take care of you. To help you. It sure as shit ain’t sounding like Tony is a fucking pillar of support for you.”

Tim sighs, turning to look at Peter, but keeping his legs firmly tucked under his chair and away from Peter, “Pete, we know how hard this life is. Damian just now started going out alone, and that’s still with Babs on comms and Bruce tailing him.”

Peter is mature enough to admit (in his mind) that the idea of having somebody there is nice. He actually does want support when he goes patrolling, but there’s no one he really trusts like that. Tony would just boss him, tell him what he could and couldn’t do, how to handle things. He’d call the cops before Peter could even web somebody up. He doesn’t want a boss, he wants what Damian has. 

Someone on comms, someone tailing him, but letting him still go out and do his own shit. 

He sighs, feeling his anger slowly deflating. “I get it, I guess, but what can ya do? Like you said,” Peter gestures to Jason, “I’m going back to my universe in a few weeks. Whether I have someone there or not, it’s not really anything you guys need to be worried about. You’ll probably forget I even existed when I leave.”

Jason and Tim make faces at each other.

“You’re an idiot if you really think that, Peter,” Jason said.

And that brings Peter’s anger right back up. Because, yeah, Peter’s been calling Jason a dumbass and stupid head the last few days, and Jason’s been calling Peter an asshole, but… The names didn’t sound real. Peter didn’t actually mean Jason was a stupid head.

But Jason calling him an idiot just now? That sounded very real. Like Jason actually meant Peter’s an idiot. And he’s not!

“Well, soon I’ll be an idiot that you don’t ever have to think about again!”

He’s being childish, he knows that, but he also just can’t stop himself from reacting like that. Jason puffs out a breath, looking into the kitchen before returning his eyes to Peter, “Okay, kid-”

And he’s back to angry, “I said don’t call me kid!”

Peter doesn’t know why he’s so hung up on that right now. Maybe because Tony always calls him kid when he’s lecturing him, and this feels like a Jason lecture. Maybe because Peter can tell he’s being childish, and he doesn’t want Jason calling him kid to remind him of that. Maybe it’s just fucking everything all at once. 

Jason gives him a look, and like a test, he says, “I always call you kid.”

Peter grinds his teeth together, hands gripping the table so hard he feels dents forming, “And I said to stop! I’m not your kid!”

He doesn’t… Really know why he said the last part, but a vindictive part of him is glad he said it when he sees how it hits Jason like a fucking truck. Good . This entire conversation has felt like a fucking ambush, so he wants Jason to feel at least a bit like he does. 

Jason recovers, though not by much, “I never said you were my kid. And you’re right, you’re not. Like you said, soon you’ll just be some kid that I don’t have to think about.” 

Oh.

Well.

Peter supposes he shouldn’t dish it if he can’t take it. And apparently he really can’t take it. He shoves himself back from the table, though he forgets to draw his strength back and ends up throwing himself back and also slamming the table forward. It bisects Jason, who oofs as he doubles over. Tim stands up, eyes so fucking wide, and starts talking rapidly, “Jason didn’t mean that, Peter. Also, what the fuck, Jason? I think we all need to calm down. Let’s go to the manor, and-”

Peter doesn’t listen, instead he heads straight for the front door, which apparently kicks Jason into gear. “Peter!” He calls, but Peter doesn’t stop, hand turning the knob and trying to yank it open. It’s locked, and Peter glares at Jason over his shoulder as he bleeds a little strength into his arm, and pulls . 

The doorframe shatters.

So… Peter may be less in control than he thought.

Whatever.

He pushes the now broken door open, and guns it. Jason’s apartment was on the top floor but Peter had seen the door when they went out yesterday, clearly labeled ROOF ACCESS. He twists the knob, again finding it locked, and doesn’t even blink as he yanks it toward it himself. 

There’s a splintering sound and the door swings open. Peter bounds up the stairs, finally coming to the roof. It’s a dark and cloudy day, of which Peter has come to realize is good weather in Gotham. He can hear Jason coming up the stairs, the prick, and Peter bolts. Jason may know the city better than him, but Peter’s biology gives him the advantage.

By the time Jason makes it to the roof, Peter’s on the ledge. 

“Peter,” Jason calls, green eyes so wide Peter’s sure it must hurt. “Come back, Peter. Let’s talk.”

He actually laughs at that. “Talk? The fuck? Think we talked enough. Besides, I’m not your kid, remember?”

He jumps, smirking when he hears Jason’s heartbeat go fucking wild. Peter doesn’t need his webshooters, not really. They’re fun, that’s for sure, but he’s strong and heals fast, so when he lands in the alley on his feet, it doesn’t even really matter that his ankles start screaming at him. 

Peter’s been eating rather well lately, so a second later he feels the tingling take over as his body rights the wrongs he just did by landing. He doesn’t hesitate, knowing Jason’s right behind him, and he takes off. He finds another alley, and climbs as fast as he can, throwing himself on the roof. Peter gives himself a second to breathe, and then takes off again. 

He jumps across the next alley, landing easily on the neighboring roof, his ankles only giving a slight complaint. 

He hears a motorcycle down below him, and he knows without seeing it that it's Jason. Has he suited up? Is he tailing Peter as Red Hood or Jason? 

Who fucking cares. Peter keeps jumping roofs, only rolling his ankle once. He’s counting that as an absolute win. He just threw himself at a tall building, climbing up the side, when he hears the crackle of comms nearby.

“What did you do, Red Hood?”

Damian. His voice sounds tinny coming from the comms. Peter ignores it, crawling farther up, a little unsure what his end goal is. He knows he’s fucking pissed at Jason. But he kind of started it, didn’t he? Well, Jason started it by calling Tony a dick. And he didn’t have to do that, did he?! 

Jason doesn’t know Tony. Really, Peter doesn’t know Tony , not really. He knows as much of the man as Tony allows him to know, but Peter’s not stupid. He knows Tony keeps him at arms length. The suit, the tracker, the lab time, it’s all just because Tony feels obligated. 

But Jason doesn’t know that. 

He just knew what Peter said, and already he thinks Tony’s a dick.

Because to Jason, Tony wasn’t doing enough for Peter. And isn’t that a fucking novel idea? Somebody caring so much about Peter that just hearing a fraction of information about a guy being subpar at taking care of Peter is enough for them to form a negative opinion.  Jason really cares about Peter.

Cared, he corrects.

After their stupid little fight, Peter figures Jason’s near tossing Peter at Bruce and saying “have fun”. 

Who cares, though, right? Peter’s not Jason’s kid. They came to that agreement pretty fucking fast.

“It was an argument, Robin. Both of them said stupid shit they didn’t mean,” Tim’s voice fluttered up to him. He’s on a rooftop nearby, and if Peter concentrated enough he could probably figure out which one. He didn’t care, though. 

Peter doesn’t think a grappling gun could get up here.

He’s made it to the top. It’s not a flat roof, but slanted up to a near point. Where the fuck did Peter even go? Is this still Crime Alley? It sounds pretty wild down below, but he’s come to figure out that that’s just Gotham. He turns, sticking firmly to the slant, and faces the city. 

“He’s on the Monarch Theater,” Is that Steph?

What’d Jason do, call in the whole fucking brigade? What a loser. Can’t chase after Peter on his own? At least Tony could do that!

Also, what’s the Monarch Theater? Peter cranes his neck over, looking down. It looks abandoned from where he’s at, and he doesn’t hear any sounds coming from inside. Well, he doesn’t hear any people milling about inside. He definitely hears rats scurrying around, which he tries to gag at the sound of their little feet slapping against the floors below him.

“I have him. Spoiler, keep Red Hood and Red Robin away,” Damian states, leaving no room for arguments. 

Though there are arguments. Tim speaks up first, “You’re not in charge of this, Robin! Let Hood talk to him first.”

There’s a tsk, “Oh, like he talked to him before? Is that not how this entire mess started?”

Ha! Get cooked, Jason. 

“That’s not fair and you know it,” Steph answers, sounding much closer than Peter would like her to be, but a glance down doesn’t show her anywhere, so he thinks he’s okay.

For now.

“I do not care what you think is fair. I am at the theater. Goodbye.”

Peter can still hear the others arguing, but Damian is no longer speaking. Babs cuts in, probably having been there the entire time, “Robin turned his comms off. And I recommend letting him handle it. Find some crime to stop while you’re all out.”

The order is final, and Peter listens as the three vigilantes out and about go running in different directions. There’s a sound almost like a gunshot, and then something slicing through the air. Stories below him, Peter hears the clank of something connecting to the ledge. He watches as Damian, dressed as Robin, swings forward and then shifts his body weight as his feet get ready to collide with the building. Instead of slamming into it, Damian uses the momentum and starts running up the building. 

Peter’s fucking amazed, watching the entire thing. He’s not even sticky and yet Damian could certainly fool him. Damian lands on the ledge, collecting his grappling hook, and then looks up at Peter. His cowl blocks his eyes, but Peter can tell he’s glaring at him.

“Get down here. Now.”

Peter unsticks himself, and falls. 

He lands in a crouch, standing up to see Damian leveling him with a very unimpressed look. He can tell that much even through the cowl. His green gloved hands are firmly on his hips, and Peter wonders if he’s fixing to get a solid telling off. Instead, Damian swings a leg over the ledge, sitting down before he swings the other one. Peter takes the hint, and sits down beside him.

They dangle their legs off the side of the building, neither talking, just looking down at Gotham.

“What’s the Monarch Theater?” Peter asks. 

“It’s an abandoned theater in Crime Alley. My grandparents were killed near here.”

Peter blinks a few times, and looks over at Damian. He doesn’t turn to look at Peter, but he keeps talking, “This theater was the last place they were seen alive. My father was with them when it happened.”

Fuck. “I’m sorry,” Peter whispers, but Damian shrugs. “I never knew them. They died when my father was eight-years-old.”

“Is that why…?” Peter lets the question go, but Damian knows what he’s asking. If Peter became Spider-Man after seeing his Uncle Bed get killed, then it makes sense for Bruce to become Batman after seeing his parents get killed. He nods, “Just like you, it seems.”

They lapse into silence again, letting the sounds of gunshots and cursing fill the void between them. Peter wonders what Jason’s doing. Is he stopping the gunshots or is he causing them? 

“What did he say to you?” Damian’s voice is hard, but his heartbeat is steady. 

Peter chews on his bottom lip, and then sighs. “It’s stupid. I don’t know why I ran away.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

No, it’s not. Peter falls backwards, letting his body land on the concrete below them. He stares up at the clouds, wondering if it’s going to rain today or not. Jason said it’s weird that it hasn’t rained since Peter’s been in Gotham. 

“He called Tony a dick,” Which is totally not what sent Peter sprinting away from the apartment. But it was part of it.

This time Damian sighs, finally turning to look at him. It’s weird, knowing it’s Damian behind the cowl but only seeing the white eyes of the mask. “He is an idiot.”

Peter smiles, “I told him to shut up.” At that, Damian nods, says, “Good,” And they go back to not talking. 

A block away, Peter hears the comms again, “I can’t fucking do this.” It’s Jason, but Peter tunes it out. He doesn’t want to hear the rest of the conversation, doesn’t want the context. 

“Then he called me kid, and he always calls me kid, but I don’t know, it just made me so angry when he said it this time.” And it’s true. So fucking true. Jason always calls him kid (and sometimes kiddo) and he actually fucking likes when the stupid asshole calls him those things. But he’d told Jason not to call him that, not during the argument slash lecture, and Jason ignored him. That had pissed Peter off. 

“Do you see Tony as your father?” Damian asks, mimicking Peter earlier and falling backwards so they’re both laying on the concrete together. 

Peter frowns, wondering at the odd question, but shakes his head, “I used to. I really… I really adored the guy, ya know?” Damian hums, but doesn’t speak, so Peter continues, “But a lot of shit has happened. He took away my suit, and I nearly died. And he just doesn’t take my shit seriously. To him, I’m just the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. He makes these jokes that I help old ladies cross the street and save kittens from trees, but I’m routinely getting my ass kicked by Rhino and Vulture. I mean, fuck, Electro tries to kill me on a near daily basis. But to him, I’m in the little leagues.”

Peter feels a raindrop on his forehead. He doesn’t move, and neither does Damian. “So, I used to see him like that. But I stopped. And ever since I stopped I think our relationship has actually gotten better. He still tries to do the whole parent thing, but I don’t put much stock into it. It helps both of us. He’s a good… Mentor. Uncle figure? Family friend, I guess.”

“Why are you so defensive over him then?” 

Peter shrugs, feeling his shirt catch on the cracks in the concrete below him. “Because he made being Spider-Man feasible. He does help me, and he does care about me. It doesn’t seem like it, because, yeah, he’s bad at it. But he’s bad at taking care of himself, too, so it’s not like I’m an outlier in his life.”

Damian nods, letting his head fall to the side so he’s looking at Peter, “I understand. My father and I… We did not have the easiest start. It has taken these last three years for us to create the relationship we currently have, which is nowhere near a typical father and son relationship. Father is not always good at taking care of himself, either, so he struggles to take care of others. In the traditional sense. He shows his care in his own unique way, which sometimes earns the ire of the others.”

Maybe all billionaires are the same. Rich people really do fucking suck.

“Is that all that transpired between the two of you?”

Ugh, Damian’s going to keep asking until Peter says it all, huh? “I told him I wasn’t his kid.”

Damian’s white eyes go a little wide, and Peter feels the rest rush out of him, “And he said he knew I wasn’t his kid.”

Now his eyes narrow into slits, barely even showing any white, only black. Damian’s nose wrinkles, “He is an idiot. I could kill him if it would make you feel better.”

Peter chokes on his spit, “What the fuck! No, that absolutely would not make me feel better! I’m actually anti killing people!”

He can’t see it, but Peter is totally sure that Damian rolls his eyes. “Oh, so you are like father. Wonderful.”

Peter elbows him, “Don’t be rude, Robin, otherwise I’ll change who my favorite is.”

“Oh? And who would your next choice be?”

He smiles, deciding to lie about it. “Red Robin.” His real next favorite would be Signal, or Red Hood. But his answer makes Damian scoff, which makes Peter laugh.

“You have been here for nearly a week, yes?” Damian asks, and Peter frowns, but nods, waiting for the rest of whatever Damian has to say, “We know you will leave eventually. Return home. But that does not stop all of us from forming an attachment to you. Red Hood especially.”

The reminder that Peter’s going to be booted from this universe sucks. He misses Aunt May, Ned and MJ. So fucking much. But he’s also going to miss everyone here. He wishes he could just combine everybody, keep them all to himself. He’s selfish like that. 

“Red Hood was hurt by your declaration. Obviously.”

Oh, obviously , Peter thinks sarcastically. 

“So he wanted to hurt you back. I do not agree with his actions, considering Red Hood is a grown man, but he does have a tendency to act like a child.”

Peter snorted. It is true, he thinks. Sometimes Jason argues with him like they’re the same age. Like calling him an asshole when Peter calls him a stupid head. 

“I think Red Hood does see you as his,” Damian whispers, “And that is why when you said what you did it hurt him. Perhaps it was a reminder that while he may think of you as his, you are not. You belong to an entirely different place. Not to him. Not to us.”

Peter swallows, feeling his eyes starting to sting. He wants to belong to Jason. To all of them. But Damian’s right. He’s not even meant to be in this body, let alone this universe. Whether Aunt May buried him or not, he’ll have to go back. And he can’t take any of them with him.

“I didn’t mean it,” Peter whispers back, feeling more raindrops starting to fall on him, “That I wasn’t his kid. I was mad at him and I wanted to hurt him. I’m a pretty shitty person like that.”

Damian sits up quickly, leaving Peter blinking where he’s laying flat. “You are not a shitty person. You told him to shut up, and he didn’t. He should have shut up.”

Peter’s starting to think Damian may not be able to see any fault in Peter. Just swell for him, because he sees no faults in Damian. He sits up, shoulder to shoulder with Damian, “I think it’s going to pour on us.”

He looks up, inspecting the clouds, and then he looks back to Peter. “Let me call Agent A. He can drive us to the Batcave.”

Agent A? Who could that-

Oh.

Alfred.

That’s so badass. 

Alfred had pulled into a nearby alley, a bit away from the theater, in a black car with even darker windows. How can he even see out of this thing? Damian practically tossed Peter into the backseat, sliding in gracefully beside him. Once they were in and moving, Damian slowly peeled away his cowl. White eyes gave way to green ones, and Peter smiled at him. 

“Your suit is so cool,” Peter admitted, only blushing a little when Damian looked over at him.

“It is certainly the best Robin suit. You should see Todd’s. I fear he had an aversion to pants at the time.”

Peter is quiet for a minute, thinking of a younger Jason dressed up like Robin, but not wearing any pants. Then he breaks down laughing, “Do you have any pictures?”

Damian smirks, “Of course. I will show you once we get to the Batcave.”

There’s a thunderclap, and then it starts pouring on them. Peter glances out the window, marveling at the fact he can see through it considering how fucking dark the windows are on the outside, and watches as a flood of water descends from the sky. 

Alfred speaks up then, “Master Damian, you have yet to eat breakfast. And I assume you, young master Peter, would enjoy some breakfast as well. Shall I make some for the two of you?”

Damian hums in agreement, but doesn’t answer, and Peter decides to copy him. 

He eventually works up the courage to swipe the cowl Damian took off, and he brings it up to his face. It’s interesting, when the whites cover his own eyes. The world dims a little, but not enough to impair his vision. He moves his head left and right, and stops when he comes face to face with Damian. 

“You look like Todd,” He says.

Peter swallows roughly, moving to take the cowl off when Damian stops him. “Here, Alfred carries more glue for us.” He pulls out a box, hidden underneath the seats, and opens it to reveal a tiny toolkit. A tube of glue is pulled out, and Damian dabs a bit here and there over the cowl, and helps Peter put it on. 

He drops his own hands, letting the cowl settle over his skin, and blinks a few times. “It feels nice. Sometimes the world is a little too bright, but this makes it better.”

Peter can actually see Damian catalogue that information, but he decides not to comment on it.

Instead, the boy next to him starts pulling at his gloves, and hands them to Peter. “Put them on,” He commands, and Peter listens.

By the time they reach the cave, Peter is wearing half the Robin suit and Damian is laughing at him. They climb out of the car, with Alfred holding the door open, and Peter stands quickly, putting his hands on his hips like Damian did earlier. 

“Can I have your sword?”

Damian shakes his head, “You have not been properly trained, so no. Perhaps some other time.” As he says it, Damian pulls off his cape and wraps it around Peter, securing it around his neck. 

Lastyly, he unclasps his yellow belt, and lets Peter put it around himself. “Is this your toolbelt?” Peter teases, but when he reaches into a pocket he pulls out a fucking grenade. He yelps, throwing it clear across the cave, and then looks back at the very unimpressed faces of Alfred and Damian.

“Why did you throw the bat-grenade, young master Peter?”

Bat-grenade, god these people are such dorks. “Um, isn’t it like instinct to chuck a grenade when you see it?”

Damian tsks, “Sure, if the grenade is active. As it is, that was as harmless as bouncy ball.”

Peter shrugs, “My bad.”

Alfred has the ghost of a smile on his face, and turns to walk toward the elevator that Peter took the first time they came down here. “I will call you both when it is time for breakfast, master Damian, young master Peter.”

Damian waves the man off, but Peter yells out a “thank you!”, wincing when it echoes back to him. They both walk to the batcomputers, and Peter waits as Damian pulls up the absolute metric shitload of pictures that are Jason as Robin, and oh my fucking god, Peter is going insane.

“He’s basically wearing underwear!” Peter exclaims, staring at younger Jason wearing green underwear, a cape, and the Robin top. “How old was he when he became Robin?”

“Todd was twelve-years-old. He was taken in by father at eleven.”

A baby, Peter thinks. But then unthinks it because if Jason’s a baby at eleven and twelve, then what’s Peter at his current age of ten? So, not a baby. 

Very firmly not a baby.

“How did Bruce even find Jason?” Peter questions. Did Bruce go prowling foster homes looking for potential kids to turn into Robin? Or did they find him?

“He was attempting to steal the tires off of the batmobile when father found him. The story goes that father decided to take Todd that night, and figured out the custody issues later.”

Oh, so Batman is totally a kidnapper. Cool.

Wait.

“Jason was trying to steal from Batman ?” 

Damian smiled, nodding as he closed the pictures out, “Yes. Todd has always had a few brain cells missing.”

Peter snorts, silently agreeing. He’s watching Damian on the computer when he remembers something he needs from these stupid fucking things. He leans over, startling Damian as he whips around to look at Peter, “Can you help me with something, Damian?”

Silence.

Peter looks at him out of the corner of his eyes, and can easily tell that Damian is trying to decide if he wants to help Peter or not. His eyes are narrowed, and his lips pressed thin together. But he finally says, “Perhaps,” And Peter counts it as a win.

“I wanna see the reports. From the Morlocks, at the old LOA base. The ones Tim found.”

Damian turns so quickly he knocks Peter out of the way. He towers over Peter when he stands to his full height, and Peter feels suddenly really fucking stupid wearing Damian’s Robin suit and looking up at him. Damian’s eyes are hard, narrowed, and something shines in them that Peter can’t name.

“Why?”

One word, and it sounds like Damian has to spit it out just to say it. 

“There has to be more information in there. Stuff Tim didn’t tell me. I think Jason’s read them and he isn’t telling me either. I wanna know what happened to the others. To me .” He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, “Three months is a long time to be somewhere, Damian, and I have no fucking memory of it. Nothing. Why? I have to know. Have to.”

When he opens his eyes, Damian has turned, and is moving to sit at the desk chair. The same one Tim occupied that first time here. He starts typing away, only using one monitor versus the near dozen that Tim was flying through. “I have not read them, Peter,” Damian says, eyes still on the screen.

“Really? But you told Tim you were going to read them, to see if he missed anything.”

Peter finds it a bit hard to believe. He figured everybody in the Batfamily had read the reports, swallowed all the information they could, and then kept it from Peter. “Really. I told Drake so that he would get upset,” At that, Damian smiles, before his face goes slack, “And I knew enough from the base to know that you were kept as an experiment,” Oh… “So I did not need to read the reports to know more. But, if you are amenable to it, I would like to read them now.”

Peter actually appreciates that Damian is asking him. So he smiles down at the back of Damian’s head, “Yeah, you can read ‘em.”

He hums, shuts everything down, and turns the chair around to face Peter, “Thank you, Peter. I sent the reports to your tablet, so you can read them later.”

Oh! That’s smart! Peter never even thought of that! Alfred would be calling them soon, and he probably wouldn’t have enough time to read through three months of reports. 

“Thanks, Dami!” Uh. Fuck. “I mean Damian.”

Yeah, his face is on fire for sure now. Thank fuck he’s at least wearing the cowl so part of his blush is covered. But he knows even his neck is bright red. Damian offers him an easy smile, “It is fine if you call me Dami, Peter. The others do it frequently enough.”

Peter bites his lip, and then repeats, “Thanks, Dami,” In a much quieter voice. And then says, “Bruce is in his office. He’s heading to the elevator.” Damian lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, and leads him away from the batcomputer, toward the other suits in the case. Peter doesn’t see Jason’s Robin suit, but he doesn’t ask about it. Damian starts taking the rest of his suit off, putting it up in an empty case, when Bruce comes through the elevator doors.

He pauses when he sees the two of them, and Peter awkwardly waves at the man. Peter sees the twitch of Bruce’s lips as he continues walking over to the duo. Damian is halfway out of his suit when he greets Bruce, “Hello, father.” Bruce then fully smiles at Damian, patting him on the shoulder. 

“Hello, Damian. I see Peter is trying on the Robin suit?” Bruce eyes Peter, looking at him from his green gloved hands to the cape tied around his neck. 

“I like the cowl,” Peter states, brushing his fingers over the cowl glued to his face. “It looks good on you,” Bruce answers. 

Damian is back to civilian clothes, and he turns to Peter, unclasping the cape as he returns it to its rightful place. He moves on to helping Peter take the gloves off, and Bruce grabs a tube of something, bending down to hover over Peter’s face. “I’ll help remove the cowl,” He explains, dabbing the tube around the edges of the cowl.

“What is that?” Peter asks, feeling the mask slowly loosening on his face.

“It dissolves the glue we use for the cowls. If we wear them for a while, our sweat generally makes it easier to take it off without using this. But I’m assuming you haven’t had it on for long.”

Peter smiles, “Dami glued it on in the car.”

Bruce glances at Damian, and then back to Peter as he peels the mask off of him, “So it would have been rather painful to just pull it off.”

Peter starts scrunching and unscrunching his face, feeling weird now that the mask isn’t glued on anymore. The lights in the cave also seem brighter and it makes him squint his eyes nearly closed. 

“You should have kept it on, Peter,” Damian says, “To help with the brightness.”

Bruce eyes the two of them critically, “What do you mean, ‘the brightness’?”

Peter shuffles on his feet, clicking the toolbelt open and handing it off to Damian. “Sometimes things are just too bright,” He says with a shrug, “The cowl dimmed everything a bit. It was nice.”

Peter can feel Bruce’s eyes boring into him, but he ignores them in favor of looking at all the other suits. Batman’s sticks out against all the others, with how dark it is compared to the bright blues, purples, yellows, and reds the others wear. 

“Is that a common problem, Peter?” Bruce asks softly, “How bright everything is?”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, peeking at Bruce in his peripheral, but otherwise facing the suits. “Yeah, I guess. Sometimes I get these migraines, where everything is so loud and bright, and my skin hurts if it’s even slightly windy. It’s like my senses go into overdrive.”

Bruce hums, and Damian says, “What do you do to combat that?”

Uh, ignore it? 

But he already knows better than to say that. So, instead he says, “Tony put a lot into my suit, especially my mask. It can turn everything off, ya know? Like completely shut out light and sound. I put on my mask and let everything go dark, usually.”

“Is that it?” Bruce asks, standing shoulder to shoulder by Peter as they both look at the suits. Peter nods, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Perhaps we can work on creating some sort of medication that would help you. You could remember the work and take it back to your universe, hm?”

That… Is a really good idea, he thought. 

He’d like something like ibuprofen that he could take when shit started to hit the fan. Would also help with the small aches that remain as his healing factor works through his body. Like right now, with his ankles giving small twinges every now and then from his earlier adventure. 

“I have a really fast metabolism. So I burn through medicine really fast. Like, an entire bottle of extra strength ibuprofen doesn’t do anything fast.”

Damian raises a singular eyebrow, “How do you know that?”

“Know what?” Peter plays dumb, already knowing he said way too fucking much.

“Do not act stupid, Peter, it is beneath you. How do you know an entire bottle of pain medication does nothing for your body?”

Peter grimaces, shrugs, continuing to play stupid even though he can tell it irritates Damian to no end. “Just a guess,” Peter mumbles, looking down at his feet.

“Hm,” Is all Damian says, but his narrowed eyes say everything he isn’t saying. 

Bruce speaks up, thankfully, “Superman also requires a certain level of medication due to his own abilities. I’m sure we can figure something out for you, Peter.” He rests a hand on Peter’s back, and Peter pretends he isn’t totally leaning back into it. 

“Breakfast is ready, master Damian, young master Peter,” Alfred’s echoes through the cave. Peter turns toward the source of the sound, finding a small speaker on the wall near the elevator. 

An intercom.

God, this place is so big the butler needs an intercom to speak to them…

Peter feels grossed out.

Bruce leads them out of the cave, and Peter picks up his necklace as he starts chewing on it. Thankfully, Damian and Bruce don’t say anything about it, and they make their way to the kitchen.

Alfred was laying two plates filled with food on the counter top, and commanded Damian and Peter to sit in the two barstools. They listened, obviously, and Bruce sat in the barstool beside Damian. “Would you like something to eat, master Bruce?” 

The man shakes his head, “No thank you, Alfred.”

Peter looked down at the food in front of him, noting that Jason makes his eggs just like Alfred does. But he also has hashbrowns, toasts, bacon, and apple slices. Alfred set a glass of orange juice in front of them both, and then gave them a very stern look, “Eat, please.”

Again, they listened. 

Bruce and Alfred began talking about stuff Peter didn’t really care about. Mainly Bruce’s office job. Peter zoned out like he usually does when Pepper comes to talk to Tony about Stark Industries business. 

He’s halfway through his breakfast when he hears a motorcycle coming down the drive. Peter’s entire body tenses, because he knows who that is, can pinpoint that fucking motorcylce engine out of any others at this point. But he also hears the slightly sped up steady heartbeat on top of it, heading straight for them. 

There’s also a car following, and Peter knows Steph and Tim are in the car, but there’s a third in the backseat. 

Duke, his brain says. 

Goddamn, is everybody coming here? 

Well. 

Jason did call in the whole damn family to look for him.

At least Dick isn’t-

A second car joins the line. Good fucking god, Peter wants to bang his head against the counter, but instead he shovels in more food. Damian curls his lip at him, which does help distract Peter from the incoming loser army that’s headed straight for them. “Who is coming?” Damian asks in a whisper, leaning close to Peter.

Huh. Is Peter that obvious with his tells? “How do you know someone’s coming?”

Damian sighs, “You are obvious when you hear something. Your ears perk up, like a dog’s.”

Well, damn. That’s pretty fucking blunt. Peter rolls his eyes at Damian, “All of them are coming. Jason, Duke, Steph, Tim, and Dick.”

Damian’s lip curls, “How obnoxious.”

Peter nods his head, agreeing, but he also slows down on his food. He wasn’t want to gross Damian out. 

By the time Alfred is taking away their plates, the loser army is traipsing through the manor, headed straight for them. Bruce is already standing, straightening his buttoned up shirt, telling Alfred he’ll be in the office later this afternoon. Damian stands too, so Peter hops off his own stool, moving to stand by Damian. He makes sure he’s touching shoulders with Damian, feeling a bit braver in facing Jason with Damian close.

He’s also a bit embarrassed. 

He literally fucking ran away from Jason. 

And why? All because they had a stupid pissing match that ended in Peter saying he wasn’t Jason’s kid, and Jason agreeing with him. And it’s the truth, isn’t it? Despite what Damian says about Jason caring, Peter isn’t Jason’s kid. Why would stating facts make him run away? 

God, he should join the loser army, too. 

The door opens, showing Dick first, with his dumb little smile on his face. He doesn’t say anything to them, but speaks to Alfred first, “Alfie! I smell bacon! Is there any left?”

Alfred is already making leftover plates, and hands Dick one of just bacon. Dick makes an eee sound, and hops up on the counter as he eats. Duke and Steph enter next, beelining for the apple slices, pretending to fight over them. Tim enters leisurely, ignoring all the food in favor of grabbing a can of soda from the fridge. He downs it in seconds, grabbing another without saying a word. Alfred watches with a truly disappointed look on his face. 

Finally, Jason walks in, soaked from the rain.

His steps stutter to a stop when he sees Peter, and Peter wants to fucking flee. He has the itch in his fingers to climb the walls, find a corner and tuck himself away in it. But he doesn’t. Mainly because Damian places a hand on his arm and is digging his fingers into Peter’s forearm. So, he’s kind of rooted to the spot. 

“Peter,” Jason breathes, green eyes blown wide, looking a bit glassy. 

The sounds in the kitchen sound a bit performative now, as if the others are just trying to seem busy as an excuse to stay in the room to watch what happens. Peter really wishes they weren’t here, because he feels his own eyes fill up with tears. Unlike Jason, his spill over, racing down his cheeks. Peter feels them tracking down his neck. 

Damian’s hand drops away from his arm, and Peter takes a single breath, before he throws himself at Jason. Surprisingly (not surprisingly), Jason catches him easily, and Peter wraps himself around the man. 

He buries his face in Jason’s neck, and immediately goes to apologizing, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

His voice is mumbled, but Jason hears him. With a hand on the back of his head, and an arm wrapped around his waist, Jason just says, “Shut up, Peter, stop saying you’re sorry. You got nothing to be sorry for.”

Peter disagrees, “No, I was mean. I didn’t mean it, ya know? Really didn’t, I promise.”

“I was an ass, Pete. You told me to shut up, and I should’ve.”

Well, okay, yeah. Peter did tell Jason to shut up, and it was literally right after Tim had said he learned to shut up around Peter. Apparently Jason didn’t get the memo. Still. Peter did say stuff he didn’t mean. Did Jason?

“You can call me kid,” Peter says, pitifully, “I like when you call me kid.”

Jason snorts, but it doesn’t sound amused. “Whatever you say, kid.”

There’s other stuff Peter said that he didn’t mean. More embarrassing stuff. He’s still buried in Jason’s neck, so thankfully he’s hidden from the others, who are very much watching every single thing that’s happening. “I didn’t mean that I wasn’t your kid,” He whispers, “I… I’m leaving, but I don’t want you to forget me.”

Jason’s heart skips a beat, which worries Peter, but then it returns to its same pace, steadily speeding up. “You’re my kid, Pete. I won’t forget you, can’t forget you.”

Peter wouldn’t mind staying the way he was, but he’s very aware of the peanut gallery they currently have. So he pulls himself back so he’s face to face with Jason, and gives the man a watery smile. Jason gives him a similar one back, and it would probably be a nice moment, if Dick didn’t choose that moment to basically squeal. 

Peter and Jason both turned their heads to look at him, and Dick looked near tears, hands clasped together in front of his mouth. They must be wearing similar looks, because Duke turns wide eyes to Steph, and says, “Holy shit, they’re like twins.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry! I just- It’s just so cute, Little Wing, c’mon, ya gotta see it from my perspective! My little brother and my teeny tiny…” There’s a pause where Dick’s eyes go wide, and a manic grin takes over, “And my teeny tiny nephew!”

Okay, Peter’s so over this family.

Jason must share the sentiment, because he grunts, and says to Peter, “Are we staying here, or going home?”

Home . 

That sounds nice. 

But a mean part of his brain is reminding him that it isn’t home, not really. His home is a universe away, and in a few weeks he’ll be back there. He’ll leave Jason behind, and Damian. They won’t be able to even call each other on the phone. It’ll be like this entire thing never happened. Peter digs his fingers into Jason out of instinct, wanting to keep him close, and only stops when the man winces. 

“But Peter agreed to let me run tests!” Tim whines, pouting so dramatically that Steph rolls her eyes and smacks him upside the head. 

“He can take the samples,” Peter mumbles, feeling tired suddenly. He blinks a few times, each one lasting longer than the last.

Damian speaks then, narrowed eyes moving from Jason to Peter, his face softening, “I have the supplies you need to make your webs, Peter. While Drake runs his tests, you can show me how to make them.”

Peter’s wide fucking awake now. He forgot all about his webs! “Yes, Dami! Let’s go to the cave now!” Peter wriggles until Jason has no choice but to drop him, and Peter grabs onto Damian’s arm, attempting to yank him back toward the office. “Let’s go, c’mon.”

Damian smiles, and then laughs, eyes crinkling in the corner. “Yes, lets go to the cave. Are you coming, Drake?”

Damian’s smile drops a bit as he looks at Tim, who was watching them with a horrified expression. But the man nods, moving sluggishly as he follows them. Steph leaned over to Duke and whispered, “Has Dames ever laughed like that before?” Before she moved to follow them as well. 

Duke could only shrug, falling into step. Bruce claims he has work to do and disappears, while Alfred continues cleaning. Dick looks frozen, probably feeling too many things, but Jason starts dragging him similar to how Peter is dragging Damian, and they all head for the cave. 

Tim took a few vials from Peter, and did another cheek swab, before he was completely absorbed into whatever he was trying to figure out about Peter. He didn’t say a word the entire time they were in the cave, the only sound coming from him was the copious amounts of soda cans he was constantly cracking open. 

Duke and Steph were just fucking around, and about an hour into them being in the cave, Steph’s head popped up from behind the batplane, holding something in her hand. “Who threw a bat-grenade?”

Peter’s face must’ve called him out, because Duke started laughing, “Pete threw a grenade in the cave!”

Jason raised an eyebrow at him, and Peter just shrugged, attempting to act innocent. He thinks it failed, but whatever.

Dick was trying to help Tim, or hinder him, Peter didn’t know, because he kept trying to swipe Tim’s soda cans when he wasn’t looking.

Jason was watching Peter, who was going through how to make his webs step by step with Damian. It was a bit tedious, and Peter wasn’t used to having eyes on him during the process, but by the end he had a batch of web cartridges that he was itching to use.

Jason swiped them away though, “Nuh huh, no way. I let you eat lunch while working, but we’re not skipping dinner so you and twiddle-dee can play with the webs. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

If Damian’s tweedle-dee, does that mean Peter’s tweedle-dum? What the fuck?

“Tomorrow? We’re coming back?”

There was a brief pause from Jason, before he said, “You are. I need to go out as Hood tomorrow, so you’re going to stay at the manor for the night. Is that okay?”

Peter thought about it for a minute, but when he thought about hanging out with Damian some more, he figured it would be alright. “Okay,” He finally said, and Jason audibly sighed. 

Was he prepared for a fight? What an ass.

Jason made Peter say his goodbyes (and see you laters), and guided him out of the manor, to the motorcycle waiting out front. It had thankfully stopped raining, so Peter climbed on quickly, a little eager to go back to the apartment. His tablet was there, and he wanted to read the reports Damian sent him.

Jason’s making dinner, and Peter’s ignoring him (easy to do). He has his tablet in hand, and is currently looking around the place trying to find a comfy place to curl up. At the last apartment, he liked the corner by the window, sandwiched by a bookshelf. But here is a little different. Mainly because the windows are fucking huge and Peter doesn’t want to curl up against the glass .

His eyes track up, looking at the Gotham skyline through the window, before he’s automatically drawn to the ceiling, looking at the corner.

Oh, yeah, that looks good.

Peter grabs his backpack near the couch, stuffing his tablet inside it before slinging it onto his back. Heading back to the corner, Peter climbs up the wall, steadily making his way to the ceiling corner. Once there, he turns easily, planting his ass on the ceiling so he has his back to the corner. It gives him a great view of the apartment, especially of Jason cooking away in the kitchen. 

He swings his bag around, taking his tablet out, and then drops his bag to the floor. It lands with a quiet thud, and Jason looks over at it. Peter can tell when Jason realizes Peter’s no longer in the living room, his eyes moving frantically all over the place. It’s a little funny, until Jason heads over to the hastily put together front door in a panic. 

Okay, not so funny anymore. 

“Jay,” Peter calls, smiling when Jason’s head whips back around to the living room. His eyebrows furrowed together, and Peter speaks again, “Up here.”

Finally, his eyes track up, and when they see Peter tucked into the corner they nearly bulge out of his head. “What the fuck, Peter?” Jason nearly yells, busting ass to get over to him.

“Don’t worry, I’m sticky, remember?” Peter smiles as he says it, making sure to keep a good grip on his tablet so it doesn’t fall on Jason’s head.

That’d be pretty fucking funny though.

“Are you…” Jason pauses, swallows, “Are you safe up there?”

Peter nods, “Yeah, I won’t fall. Even if I did, a fall from this height wouldn’t even hurt me.”

Jason doesn’t seem too pleased with that answer, but he accepts it. “Okay. This is okay. Totally normal. I’m gonna go back to making dinner. You will be getting down to eat, by the way.”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say,” Peter says, waving the man away.

Once Jason is safely tucked away into the kitchen, Peter unlocks his tablet and goes to find the reports Damian sent him. They’re in an app named Files, under the name “PT3R”. What a weird fucking name.

Opening it up, he’s kind of overwhelmed with the amount of reports that are in the file. He knows it was months worth of reports, but Tim had said there wasn’t much. Maybe not to him , but to Peter, who never does any sleuthing like this, it’s a fucking lot. He pauses, looking back up at Jason.

“Is Tim, like, a detective?” He asks, waiting for Jason to answer.

There’s a hum, and then, “We all are, in our own ways. Tim’s probably the best of us, don’t fucking tell him I said that,” Jason glared at the last bit, and Peter mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key, “Bruce taught us that way. We work a lotta cases like detectives do.”

Huh.

“I don’t do that,” Peter admits. “I just… Fight the bad guys when they show up. Stop crimes when I see it. I don’t do anything to prevent it.”

There’s a grunt, and Jason’s giving him his classic “are you stupid?” look, “Pete, just going out as Spider-Man prevents crime. You don’t gotta be a detective, or act like one. You do what you do, and trust me, that’s enough.”

Hm, whatever. Maybe agree to disagree, Peter thinks. He lets Jason go back to cooking as he returns to the reports. 

He starts with the very first one from three months ago. It has to give some sort of answer for why the fuck he’s here. Or how they got him here. Right? Or at least it might say why they even wanted him. 

SUBJECT: PT2R

STATUS: DECEASED

MANNER: BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA TO THE HEAD  (OUTSIDE FORCE — THIRD PARTY) (NO FAULT DEATH)

AGE OF BODY: 10 YEARS 2 MONTHS

Oh. Peter feels really weird casually reading about the previous inhabitant of the body. PT2R… So he was the second one, and Peter’s the third, which is why his name has the 3 in it. PT3R. Are all three of them named Peter? Peter 1, Peter 2, Peter 3. Except the way it’s spelled, Peter thinks maybe it means something different to them. The letters mean something to these people, the Morlocks. But what? 

He keeps reading. 

SUBJECT: PT3R

LOCATION: EARTH-918

AGE ON EARTH-918: 16 YEARS 9 MONTHS

STATUS AT TIME OF COLLECTION: DECEASED

STATUS OF BODY ON EARTH-918: MISSING

Status of body? What does that mean? Is it talking about his original body? How can a body be missing? Surely Tony has his body. He figured he was dead in his universe, but he also held onto the fact that at least Aunt May had something to bury. Did she, though? What if there was nothing left of Peter to be buried? 

Wait.

16 years 9 months.

They knew his age before they took him. But if they knew his age and reported it, and Tim read the reports… Tim knows his age. Knows he’s a freaking weirdo running around acting like a ten-year-old when he’s actually sixteen, almost seventeen. He feels disgusted with himself. 

But… He figured Jason read these too. Did he? Does he know?

Damian’s going to read them.

Oh fucking god, Peter wants to throw up and then crawl into a hole and die. He looks out the window, wondering if he threw himself out of it with enough force maybe it’d hurt him enough that he’d black out. 

“Dinner’s ready, kid,” Jason called, not looking up at the corner.

Peter doesn’t move. He just stays stuck to his spot. A few minutes later, when Peter hasn’t left his corner, Jason finally looks up at him. He must see the absolute fucking disaster brewing in his eyes, because he rushes back over to look up at him.

“Hey, Peter, what’s up? What’s going on?”

God he sounds fucking terrified. Peter blinks a few times, not wanting to cry because he’s cried enough times today, goddammit. “Did you read the reports Tim found?”

Jason throws him a confused look, “What?”

“Don’t play stupid, Jason, it’s beneath you!” Peter yells, mimicking Damian, “Did you read the reports that Tim found in the base?”

Another breath of silence. “Pete, what’s on your tablet?”

Peter unsticks himself, and as he falls he twists, righting his body so he lands on his feet instead of on his head. Jason stumbles back a step, eyes wide. 

“I have the reports, and don’t even fucking get at me because they’re about me and I deserve to read them!” Peter preemptively argues, already seeing Jason’s eyes brewing with a lecture. 

“Who gave them to you?” Jason asks, and when Peter presses his lips together, Jason scowls, “Fucking Damian. I’m gonna kick his ass.”

Peter gasps, pushing Jason with one hand, watching the man stumble back again , “Leave Dami alone! I asked him to give me the reports!”

“Dami,” Jason mock whispers, and Peter hisses at him. “Hey, leave those fucking fangs in your mouth, kid!” 

Peter closes his mouth, glaring at Jason. “You read the reports, right?” He asks again, needing the answer. 

Jason sighs, swiping a hand down his face. He looks up, then backs down to Peter, “Yeah, kiddo, I read the reports.”

Oh.

Peter didn’t like that at all. He looked down at the floor, not wanting to look at Jason, and just sighed. “So you know I’m a fucking weirdo.”

There was a confused grunt from Jason, before he fell to his knees, forcing Peter to look him in the eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

He knows he’s pouting, his lips definitely turned down, and he feels so dumb. 

“I’m sixteen. But I’m acting like I’m ten. Like a weirdo. A freak,” Peter whispers, hugging his tablet to his chest.

Jason immediately starts shaking his head, before Peter can even finish talking. “No way, Pete,” He says, hands moving to cup Peter’s face, “You’re not a freak, or a weirdo. No fucking way.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but Jason squeezes his cheeks a bit, silencing him. “No, just listen to me, kid,” He says, reminiscent of their argument this morning. “Sure, you’re sixteen in your universe. I’m not arguing that. But in this universe? You’re ten, Peter. We figured that out the day Tim went through all those reports, right? Your body didn’t travel with you. Like Duke said, your soul was shoved into this body. This body that’s ten . With a brain that’s ten. We get a doctor to look ya over, ya think they’re gonna say you’re any other age but ten?”

Peter shakes his head, as much as he can where Jason’s holding him, “But-”

“No arguing right now,” Jason interrupts, “You’ve been in this universe for nearly four months, Peter. That’s almost four months of being ten. None of us think you’re weird for acting your age, kid. We’d probably find it a little weird if you woke up one day and started acting like a teenager.”

The attempt at levity missed the mark, but Peter appreciated it all the same. “You’re not weirded out?”

Jason shakes his head, smile appearing on his face, “Fuck no, kiddo. You’re not doing anything to be weird. You’re ten, so you’re acting ten. What’s weird about that?”

Peter doesn’t really have an answer to that, so he stays silent. Jason’s hands gently fall away from him, and he stands up. “Let’s go eat dinner, yeah?”

He agrees, and they head over to the table. There’s already two plates set up, both having large servings of spaghetti with plenty of garlic bread. He ignores the green beans and carrots, but knows Jason’s going to make him eat them.

“Can I ask something now?” Jason asks, sitting in front of him.

Peter whines, wanting to say no, but after his little freak out he decides he probably should let Jason ask a question. “Sure, I guess. Whatever.”

Jason smiles, “Don’t act like it’s torture to talk to me, kid.”

Peter sticks his tongue out at the man, and then shovels in a forkful of spaghetti. 

“Why didn’t you tell me your other age?”

Yeah, that was the exact question Peter did not want to be asked. He sighs, leaning his head back on the chair. He swallows his food, and (still refusing to look at Jason), says, “It was embarrassing. When I realized.”

Jason stays quiet, letting Peter continue, “I didn’t know at first, until you said my age to Babs in the tunnel. And I was naked!” Peter kind of yells that part, a blush coming up to his cheeks. Jason nods in sympathy. 

“And then I didn’t know I was in a different universe, right? I thought, well this is fucked but I’ll go home and Tony’ll fix me,” Peter stabs into his garlic bread, using his fork and fingers to tear it to shreds. “But then I was in a different universe, and everything just kept going to shit. I was in a different universe, I had died a million fucking times, I was naked and ten-years-old. I…” He takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut, “And then I kept acting like a ten-year-old, even when I didn’t want to. It was humiliating. I didn’t wanna tell you because… Because I didn’t want you to call me out, I guess. Was scared you’d nod and be like ‘yeah, Peter, you are a fucking freak’.”

Jason frowns, shaking his head as he sets his fork down, “Kid, I never would have done that. Even if I hadn’t read the reports, and you told me just now , I wouldn’t have treated you like that.”

Peter swallows, continuing to mutilate his bread, “I get that, kinda. Just was scared.”

Jason nods, and then he pulls at Peter’s plate, stopping his ministrations, “I get it, kiddo, really. But, now you know that I know, so you don’t gotta worry about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter whispers. 

“And the others know. Well, everyone except Damian. The little shit didn’t wanna read the reports after all that drama he caused with Tim. But the rest know.”

Peter smiles ruefully, “Damian’s gonna know now . He asked if he could read them when he sent me the reports.”

“Demon brat ain’t gonna treat you any different, Peter, I promise. He’s too good.”

He nods, swirling his fork around in his spaghetti before shoving it in. There’s silence for a minute as they eat, with Peter having to use his fork to scoop up the remains of his bread. He also had a few bites of his carrots, because Jason kept shoving them at him. 

“Is it gonna be weird if I ask to sleep in your bed? If I have a nightmare,” Peter whispers, glancing up at Jason.

The man rolls his eyes, finishing his last bite of green beans, “No, it won’t be fucking weird.”

Hm. Peter decides to accept that answer, but he also doesn’t know if he fully believes Jason. Whatever. He finishes his dinner and helps Jason clean up, with the man washing, and Peter drying. They both put the dishes up, but Peter is relegated only to the shelves he can reach, even though that makes him hiss when Jason says it. 

Jason picked out Shrek , which made Peter laugh. That earned him a smile from Jason as he turned the TV on and got the movie going. Then he turned the nightlight on, and tossed Peter his Robin figure. The one he very rudely left behind on his escaping act earlier. 

“You good?” Jason asks, yanking the blankets up to Peter’s chin. 

He nods, settling the Robin on his pillow beside him, and then holding his stuffed Robin in his arms. Jason gives him a smile, ruffles his hair, and leaves the room. He again leaves the door open a crack, the living room light shining onto the floor. 

Peter listens for a moment as Jason heads to his room, opening drawers and likely switching into his own pyjamas. He turns over in his bed, putting his back to the TV, and curls around both of his Robins. His mind goes back to the reports, to his status in his universe.  

If Peter’s body is missing, where is it? Is it just missing, or has it been… Destroyed? Maybe he was fighting something, somebody, from the spaceship. Maybe they set him on fire and his body was turned to ash. That’d be missing, wouldn’t it? What else could missing mean?

He knew better than to think about that stuff before he went to sleep.

The nightmare that followed was the worst one yet.

Chapter Text

He’s choking again

Peter opens his eyes, finding the same dust swirling around him from his first nightmare. Tony’s off to the side, speaking in quiet but rushed whispers with Dr. Strange. Both men are wearing pinched faces, though Dr. Strange looks more irritated with Tony than anything. Peter can’t hear what they’re saying, which is weird, right? He can hear a kid fart three miles away, but is unable to hear Tony and Dr. Strange, standing five feet away from him?

“Think those guys are gonna give it up and kiss already?”

The voice that speaks right in Peter’s ear jolts his entire body, and he whips around to stare at the man. He’s only a bit taller than Peter (alright, maybe a good few inches, but still!). He has a nice beard growing in that Peter’s only slightly jealous of, and his outfit looks pretty cool, all red leather with various straps running along his legs, some holding weapons, others not.

“Huh?” Is Peter’s super eloquent answer.

The man looks so familiar, but he doesn’t remember the name. Why doesn’t he remember this guy’s name?

“Nothing, kid,” He mumbles, looking away from Tony and Dr. Strange to stare into Peter’s eyes, “What’s our plan, half-pint?”

Plan? Half-pint? Fuck this guy.

“Plan?” Peter questions. 

The man’s eyebrows draw together, “Aren’t you, like, smart or something? I swore your old man said you had a brain.”

Peter tries to stop himself from asking a question, but it comes out, “Old man?”

There’s a loud guffaw from the man as he throws his hands in the air. “You’re yanking my chain for real here, man. Do you know anything?”

Peter slowly shakes his head, and the man narrows his eyes at him. 

“Ya know, I think you’d like my buddy Drax. Remember him?” He’s speaking slowly now, as if Peter wouldn’t be able to understand him if he sped up, “He’s the big guy with grey skin.”

No, Peter doesn’t fucking remember a guy named Drax with grey skin , what the fuck.

The man is still talking, but the words don’t hit Peter’s ears. He’s trying to focus on whatever he’s saying, but there’s no sound. It’s like he’s suddenly in a tunnel, wind blasting past his ears, blocking everything out. Slowly, the man turns to dust in front of him, from his feet to his still moving mouth. He blows away in the wind, straight into Peter’s face, which he starts frantically batting away from himself.

It doesn’t stop his eyes from watering at the human dust that gets in them. 

A hand grabs him, yanking him around to look at Tony, who stares down at him with wide eyes, “Peter.”

What? Peter wants to scream, but nothing comes out. His mouth doesn’t even open, he just stares and stares at Tony in front of him. 

“Peter,” He says again, and Peter wonders how he can hear over the barraging wind storm they’re in. “You’re dying, Peter.”

He is?

Peter looks down at himself, checking for wounds, but finds nothing. 

Literally nothing.

His body is disappearing, just like the other man’s did, and now that Peter’s looking at it, he can feel it. Slowly, his body turns back online, and his senses go from dull to razor sharp. His hands slap to his ears as everything rushes through the wind. But his eyes stay glued to his rapidly disappearing legs.

It feels like somebody is pulling him apart piece by piece, slicing him away an inch at a time. His healing factor is fighting like a bitch against it, digging its claws into his body as it tries like hell to hang on to what’s left. 

It doesn’t work.

Slowly, it travels up his legs, and Peter’s eyes roll into the back of his head as it crawls up his knees. Is this what being skinned alive feels like? 

“Peter,” Tony says again, and he doesn’t want to hear from him anymore! Please stop talking to him! “They’re coming to get you.”

Who is? What’s even left of him to get? He can feel his organs being ripped away from him, almost like somebody grabbed his entrails and started yanking it out, jerking harder and harder as his healing struggled to keep him intact. “Who?” He whimpers, blurry vision focusing just enough to see Tony looking at him with a sad expression.

“I can’t stop them. You’re already dead, Pete.”

He swallows against the dust in his throat, and attempts to breathe. But he thinks his lungs have already gone because no air goes in. He starts panicking, mouth opening and closing rapidly as he realizes he can’t breathe. Peter looks at Tony with wild eyes, but that same resigned expression is there. 

“I told you to go home, didn’t I? Whose fault is this?”

Peter doesn’t know what Tony’s talking about, but he takes the blame. Most things in Peter’s life are his fault, duh. His uncle’s death, his aunt struggling with bills, his spider mutation, all the times he gets hurt fighting bad guys. All of those situations are because of himhimhim.

That’s all he thinks about as he’s unwound, pulled apart by the veins and muscles, unraveled entirely. He watches as Tony’s sad look turns bored, and then the man turns his back on Peter. 

No, please, he begs. Please. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter tries to whisper, but nothing comes out. 

Because there’s nothing left of him.

Just dust in the wind, mixing together with the man’s from earlier . 

“Peter,” A soft voice says, breaking through his screaming.

Wait, he’s screaming? 

He gets control over himself, taking gulping breaths, eyes flying open to find Jason hovering above him, green eyes wide. When they lock on Peter’s, his entire face softens, and he starts speaking, “You’re okay, kid. You’re awake.”

That was a fucking dream?!

Nightmare.

Good fucking god. Peter blinks rapidly, and sits up in his bed. The blankets fall away from him, which is good because he’s just now realizing how fucking sweaty he is. All over. He’s absolutely drenched. Gross!

“C’mon, kiddo,” Jason says, tugging Peter out of bed. 

His body obeys, though his mind feels a million miles away. Before they leave his room, he scoops up his stuffed Robin, holding it weakly in his hand as Jason leads him to the bathroom. Jason turns the shower on, and steam quickly starts filling the room.

“You’ll feel better after a shower, bud, promise. I’ll go get you some clothes.”

Jason’s fixing to leave the room when Peter grabs his arm, sticking to it so Jason has to turn around and look at him. “Can I…” One deep breath later, Peter says, “Can I wear something of yours?”

A pause, and Jason gives him a sad smile, so achingly similar to Tony’s it makes him want to throw up. “Yeah, I’ll grab one of my shirts. Go on, Pete, take a quick shower.”

Jason leaves the bathroom, and Peter sets his Robin on the counter, sluggishly moving into the shower as he listens to Jason moving around the apartment. Peter’s done a few minutes later, nearly falling out of the shower when his leg doesn’t lift up all the way over the tub. 

He bends down, inspecting his feet, and his legs, touching them and poking. They’re really there, he realizes. He’s all back together. Guess he should be thankful he’s not related to Humpty Dumpty. 

There’s a knock at the door, and Jason’s voice drifts through it as he says, “Clothes are sitting out here, kid.”

He waits to hear Jason’s footsteps walking back into his own bedroom before he opens the door and snatches the spare clothes off the floor. He ignores the Wonder Woman logos on the briefs, sliding them on as he grabs the shirt Jason gave him. He holds the black shirt up, seeing the word GHOST written in a nearly too hard to read font, with a creepy looking pope underneath it. 

Whatever. 

Peter puts it on, ignoring how it looks more like a fucking dress on him than a shirt, and exits the bathroom. Jason comes out of the bathroom at the same time, and he looks down at Peter. There’s a bout of silence, before a secretive looking smile comes over Jason, and he motions for Peter to follow him into the bedroom.

Peter squeezes his Robin, and follows easily behind Jason.

It’s similar to the other night, when Peter slept in Jason’s bed. He climbs in, buries himself in the blankets, and waits for Jason to turn the lights off and climb in himself. Jason turns on his side, facing Peter, and asks, “Wanna talk about it?”

Peter bites his tongue to stop his first response of fuck no! from coming out. He gives his embarrassment a minute to cool the fuck off, and says, “Not right now. What time is it?”

Through a yawn, Jason answers, “Almost four.”

Peter thinks he’s being covert as he shifts across the bed, attempting to get closer and closer to Jason. But his sneakiness must need some work as Jason simply opens his arms up, and Peter slides right in. His arms close around Peter, holding him closer, and Peter closes his eyes. 

“I’m sorry for waking you,” He mumbles, face smushed between Jason’s chest and his Robin. 

Jason grunts, “Was already awake. And even if I wasn’t, I would’ve wanted to be woken up.”

Hm. Peter doesn’t really understand, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut.

“We’ll talk about it when the sun’s up, yeah?” Jason whispers, sounding like he’s already half asleep, “Go back to sleep, kid.”

Peter settles himself deeper into the mattress, shoving his ear right up against Jason’s chest so he can listen to the man’s heartbeat, and lets himself drift off to sleep.

This time with no nightmares. 

Jason let him go through breakfast and most of the morning without asking him about the nightmare, to which Peter is very grateful for. But he knows it’s coming. Can feel Jason’s eyes lingering on him longer and longer, so Peter takes matters into his own hands and crawls into his corner of the ceiling, glaring down at the floor. Jason walks into his view, and stares up at him, hands on his hips.

“You’re gonna have to talk to me at some point, kiddo. That was the deal, remember?”

Yes, Peter fucking remembers! He stays glaring. “What if talking about them makes them happen more often?” Peter questions, jutting his chin out as if he won the argument.

Judging by Jason’s mega unimpressed look, he definitely did not win. 

“Pete, we talked about it the other night and you slept just fine. What if reading those reports makes them happen more often?” Jason fires back, green eyes laser focused on the tablet in Peter’s hands. 

He glances down at the screen, sees the next report he was planning on reading glowing back at him, and quickly locks the screen. Jason still levels him with a look , so Peter says, “I died, Jason.”

Which, duh, Jason very much knows that. But still, he didn’t really know how to start, or what to say, and that was obviously what the nightmare was mainly about. Him dying. Not in this universe, not drowning in those pits over and over again, but his first death. The one where his body went missing.

Guess he knows what that means now.

But how did the Morlocks know that?

“You remember?” Jason whispers, dropping his hands from his hips.

Peter nods, staring down at his reflection on the black screen of the tablet. “You read the reports, right? They said my body’s missing.” Jason nods, but doesn’t answer verbally. “I kept thinking about that last night. What would that even mean? How does a body go missing? I thought maybe I was burned up in some battle. There’d be no body if I was burned to ash.”

Jason does not like that, Peter notes, with his heartbeat jumping and the way his shoulders tense up. 

“But that’s not what happened,” He whispers, “I was back with Tony, like the first nightmare. And there was another guy there, he kept saying things I didn’t understand, and then he just… Turned to dust. One second he was there, and the next he was just gone.”

He feels a little sick thinking about it. What happened? How did they both turn to dust like that? Tony didn’t, Peter remembers. Tony stayed the entire time. 

“What else?” Jason prompted. Peter sighed, but continued, “I turned to dust after, but my healing factor kept fighting it. Ya know, it exists to keep me alive, so it wasn’t really happy with the whole ‘turning to dust’ thing. I think it just prolonged everything, though.”

Jason hums, eyes narrowed, “What’d Tony say?”

Yeah, Peter is so not telling Jason what Tony said. The man already fucking hates Tony, he’s not going to give him anymore ammo against him. Besides, he doesn’t even think that was what real Tony would say, just like real MJ wouldn’t push him like she did in the other nightmare. Jason would probably still hold it against the man.

“I don’t remember,” Peter lies, not meeting Jason’s eyes. 

There’s a grunt from the man that Peter totally recognizes as Jason very much not believing what Peter’s saying. Whatever. Peter’s not telling no matter what, so Jason can suck it. 

“Thank you for telling me,” Jason says softly, which surprises Peter. “That’s it?” He asks, eyes near his hairline.

Jason nods, letting a smirk make its way on his face, “Yeah, kid, that’s all I wanted you to do. Just talk about it. And ya did. So thank you.”

Huh.

That was easier than Peter thought it would be. 

He thinks he pouted about it longer than it actually took to explain the nightmare to Jason. Maybe he should pout less…

Nah.

“Can we go to the manor now?” Peter requests, standing on the ceiling and walking so he’s over Jason. They look at each other, Jason’s head craned back so he can look up, with Peter doing the same to look down. 

“If you weren’t wearing a fucking Spongebob hoodie with the matching sweatpants, this would be so creepy.”

Peter’s brows furrowed as he looked down at his outfit. His hoodie was a bright yellow, like Spongebob, with the character’s face on the front. He had tucked it into his pants so it didn’t fall down in his face when he went upside down. His sweatpants are brown, designed to look like Spongebob’s pants. 

“Tim bought these for me,” Peter explains, as if Jason doesn’t know that.

The man snorts, eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles up at Peter, “Yeah, I know. Tim has the worst taste.”

Peter almost agrees, but then he realizes that would be insulting his current outfit, so he presses his lips together. Jason walks away, and Peter follows along the ceiling, dropping his tablet on the couch as he follows the man. He has to do a weird crawl through the bedroom doorway, but he makes it through and sits back on the ceiling in his bedroom and watches as Jason starts packing a duffel bag.

“Do ya care what clothes I pack?” Jason asks, not even bothering to wait for an answer as he starts grabbing a set of pyjamas and shoving them inside the bag. “Um, no jeans,” Peter says, which has Jason throwing him a confused look.

So, he explains, “Dick said we could use the gym at the manor to do gymnastic stuff. I could do it in jeans, but it’d be a little uncomfy.”

Jason hums, throwing in two sets of sweats, a hoodie, and a t-shirt. He packs Peter’s nightlight, his Robin figure, and his sketchbook, before he looks back up, and asks, “Anything else you wanna bring?”

Peter sighs, before he lets himself fall to the floor, twisting in the air so he lands on his feet. He walks back into the living room, grabbing his tablet, and his stuffed Robin before returning to the room and shoving them inside the duffel bag. 

There’s a moment where Peter just stares at the bag, before he rushes over to the bookshelf and grabs his Red Hood action figure. He places the figure besides his Robins, and then looks back up at Jason.

“How are we gonna take this on the bike?” He questions, listening to the zip! of the bag. 

Jason slings it over his shoulder, kicking Peter’s sneakers at him, “We’re taking a car.”

A… Car.

Peter wasn’t aware Jason even had a car.

He saw plenty of cars in the garage at the manor, and obviously he rode in the batmobile (driven by Alfred). But Jason? He figured the man was, like, diametrically opposed to vehicles with four wheels. 

“Whose car?” 

Jason flicks the switch to Peter’s room once his shoes are on, tied, and he’s waiting in the living room. “What makes you think it’s not mine?”

He shrugs, “You don’t seem like the car type.”

Jason knocks his hip into Peter, “Asshole. It’s not mine. Bruce dropped it off this morning after his patrol.”

The thought of Batman driving a car, parking it in front of Jason’s apartment, and then, what, walking back to the manor? Is fucking hilarious. Peter smiles thinking about it, and follows Jason out of the freshly fixed front door. 

The car that’s waiting for them is black, with tinted windows, though not nearly as tinted as the batmobile. When Peter attempts to open the passenger side door, Jason kicks it closed, and opens the backseat. Peter starts complaining, but Jason holds up a single hand.

“I’m pretty sure by law you’re not allowed in the front seat, kiddo.”

What?

He frowns, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “What’s the difference between me in the front seat and me in the backseat?”

“Well, the law, for one.”

Peter rolls his eyes, “I’m pretty sure being a vigilante is against the law.”

Jason smiles, leaning down to throw the duffel bag into the back seat, though there’s still plenty of room for Peter. “Yeah, which is why I try to follow all the other laws. Ya know, to make up for fucking that one up all the time.”

“I ride on a motorcycle with you all the time, Jay!” Peter complains, “That’s more dangerous than riding in the front seat!”

Their standoff continues, with both of them just staring at the other, waiting for one to back down. Peter’s pretty fucking stubborn, and he’s starting to realize Jason is too, which is a bummer and a half. Still, he’s not going down without a fight. 

“Get in the fucking car, Peter,” Jason says, glaring down at him.

Peter huffs, glaring right back, “Only in the front seat!”

And so it continues.

Until, “Cool, ride in the front seat,” Jason says, standing up and pulling out his phone. Peter watches him, unsure what the fuck is going on, when Jason says, “I’ll just tell Damian to go ahead and go out tonight. After all, if you’re big enough for the front seat, then you’re big enough to hang alone in the manor for the night.”

Wait.

“That- Wait, Jason!” Peter says, reaching for Jason’s phone but he yanks his hands away, “That’s not fair!” He whines.

Jason just raises a single eyebrow, “Oh? But you’re so big, Peter. Able to sit just fine in the front seat, so surely you don’t need anybody around tonight.”

Peter really fucking hates that this is working on him. What the fuck? How old is he again? He almost stomps his foot, but refrains, “Jason,” He whines, louder this time, drawing out the man’s name. But Jason doesn’t budge, pleased fucking smile on his face. 

Too quick for Peter to hold himself back, he pulls Jason’s hands toward his mouth and bites down, barely even registering the bitter liquid rushing forward to the puncture wounds his fangs created. 

When his actions finally hit his brain, he pushes himself away from Jason, landing on his ass on the sidewalk. He covers his mouth with his hands, mumbling ‘sorry’ into his fingers, looking up at Jason. The man seems frozen solid, before he slowly brings his hand up to his own face, inspecting it. 

Peter can see blood trickling out of the bite mark, and Jason doesn’t even say anything as he uses his shirt to wipe the blood away. Then, Jason turns back to Peter, and says, “Why is my hand going numb?” In such an even voice, no anger over being bitten, just a general question, and Peter immediately bursts into tears. 

“ Fuck ,” Jason hisses, scooping Peter up and awkwardly shuffling them both into the backseat. He reaches over Peter, slamming the door shut, and then returns his attention to Peter. 

“Kid, my hand’s fine, promise. It’s just a little numb, and it’s already going away. Look,” Jason rushes to explain, dangling his hand in front of Peter’s face as he flexes his fingers. 

Peter still feels the tears streaming his face, tasting them on his lips. He doesn’t say anything, feeling like hot fucking garbage. He draws his legs up to himself, shoves his head between his knees, and hides from Jason. “I’m sorry,” He whispers.

He hears Jason sigh, before familiar arms wrap around him, drawing him into Jason’s side. For whatever reason, Jason’s comforting Peter, rubbing circles on his back, and telling him everything’s alright. What the fuck? Why is Jason trying to make him feel better? He literally just bit the guy! And shoved his venom into the wound! He’s a fucking freak!

“C’mon, Pete, you’re starting to worry me here,” Jason says, fingers in his hair. 

“I’m sorry, Jason,” He says, lifting his head up. Jason’s watching him with a frown on his face, and Peter just sniffs in response. “Pete, I kinda instigated this one.”

He starts shaking his head rapidly, but Jason keeps talking, “No, I did. You’re right, it’s more dangerous on the bike than in the front seat of a car. I don’t know why I dug my heels in on that one,” He says the last part looking out the window over Peter’s shoulder, as if trying to understand why that was the hill he was willing to die on. 

“And then saying I’d send Damian off, yeah, that was a shitty thing to do. So, I kinda earned the bite.”

Peter’s voice wobbles as he speaks, “I didn’t mean to use my venom, though.”

 “Ah, that . So that’s why my hand went numb?” Jason asks, which Peter nods in answer to. “Hm. It’s fine now, so I’m gonna assume you didn’t use much. The bite hurt, the venom didn’t. It was kinda like going to the doctor and getting a numbing shot, ya know?”

No, Peter doesn’t know. 

Jason just keeps talking, though, “Didn’t know ya had venom, baby spider.”

Peter wipes his eyes on his arm, sniffles again, and whispers, “Didn’t before. It’s new.”

“Hm,” Jason news, eyeing him, “Cool.”

Cool?

“Cool?”

The man smiles, tightening his hold around Peter, “Yeah, cool. You’re like a real little spider. Fangs, venom, crawling around my ceiling. Pretty cool if ya ask me.”

Peter blushes, feeling a bit better about everything, but also still like a giant asshole. He burrows into Jason’s side, hiding his face, “‘M still really sorry.”

He feels Jason nod, the tip of his chin hitting the top of Peter’s head. 

“I know, bud. I forgive you. I’m sorry for teasing you about the seat and Damian.”

Peter stays hidden, but he does smile, “I forgive you,” Peter says, copying Jason. 

It’s really quiet in the car, with Peter only hearing the heartbeats in the buildings around them mixed with cars and bicycles going past them. 

“Alright, let’s get this show going, then. Ya sitting in the front?” Jason asks, unwinding himself from Peter. He shakes his head, scooting over and buckling himself in. Jason watches him, “Seriously? All that and you’re gonna sit in the backseat?”

He nods, biting his lip. “Figure it can be like a timeout. I bit you, so I’ll sit in the back.”

Jason blinks at him, before laughing, ruffling his hair as he crawls over the center console and squirms his way into the driver’s seat. It shakes the entire car, and Peter thinks it would’ve been way easier if Jason just got out and got back in, but whatever. He makes it into the seat, starts the car and they go. 

Peter keeps his eyes on Jason’s hand, watching as every so often blood oozes from the puncture wounds. Jason wipes it away without saying anything, but Peter feels like he’s being stabbed in the stomach every time he sees it.

They make it to the manor with no incidents, and when they walk into the kitchen, they’re greeted with the entire family once again (sans Babs). Jason groans as soon as he sees them, dropping the duffel with a thump on the floor. Alfred raises a single brow, before he scoops the bag up and makes to leave the kitchen.

“Why are all of you here? Do any of you have jobs?” Jason asks, leaning against the counter.

Duke laughs openly at him, “Bold thing to say considering your job is siphoning funds out of Bruce’s bank account.”

Huh? “You steal from Bruce?” Peter squawks, thinking of stealing from Tony . He’s pretty sure Friday would fry him on the spot if she found out.

Bruce seems entirely unbothered, slowly stirring his coffee, “I do not consider it stealing, Peter. After all, I am aware it is happening.”

Jason glowers at the man, “Whatever,” He mumbles, which earns him a little smile from Bruce. 

“Bruce and I have a meeting later,” Tim says, phone in hand, “Came over to bitch about it.”

“I’m only here because I had a feeling Alfred was going to make a carrot cake. And what do ya know? He told me he was totally going to make one!” Steph said, swinging her legs from where she sat on the high top counter. 

“I took the day off from patrol, so figured I’d come over and annoy whoever was here,” Duke said, tilting the cup in his hand up and very loudly chewing on the ice that fell into his mouth. Steph winced at the sound, kicking at Duke, but he just danced away. 

Damian looks at all them with contempt, before he turns to address Peter, “I was waiting on you.”

Peter smiles, big and wide, because holy shit , Damian was waiting on him !

Dick coos at him, “And I’m here to see you too, Peter!” 

The man deflates when Peter doesn’t give him the same reaction he gave Damian. It makes Peter feel a bit bad, so he tries to smile, but when Jason starts laughing he thinks he may have done it wrong. He starts pouting when Jason says, “You’re just showing off your fangs, bud.”

Oh.

Yeah, so, he didn’t mean for that to happen.

Whatever.

Tim literally throws his phone onto the counter, but it slides off and clatters to the floor. He ignores it, spinning in his chair to face Peter. “You have fangs?” He questions, blue eyes lit up with curiosity. 

Peter glances at Jason, and then back to Tim. He nods carefully, and the man tilts his head to the side, “Fascinating.”

Peter feels like he’s under a microscope.

But then he feels something different when Cass appears out of fucking nowhere, and points to Jason’s hand, “Bite?”

No, please. 

He feels himself shrinking as all eyes in the room turn to Jason, looking at his hand where Cass is pointing. Alfred had just returned from putting away Peter’s things, and he immediately reached for Jason’s hand. “This needs treated, master Jason.”

So, Peter’s going to throw himself off a cliff.

“Holy shit, did Peter do that?” Tim exclaims, looking from the bite to Peter and back again. Jason makes a warning sound, glaring at Tim, and says, “None of your fucking business, Replacement.”

But Alfred keeps going, “It will need cleaning out, and I can see that it requires stitches. I will go get my things.” He drops Jason’s hand, and leaves the room again.

Stitches? Peter wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole. 

Peter slowly feels eyes land on him as everyone in the room shifts focus from Jason to Peter. He takes a small step back, staring resolutely at their feet, and tries to think of how to escape. Jason must sense it or some shit, because he grabs Peter’s shoulder and keeps him very firmly in place. 

“Can everybody just leave it alone? It’s been handled.”

Tim scoffs, “Obviously not, considering you need stitches.”

Alfred returns then, and there’s no room for arguments as he pulls Jason toward the counter, setting up a mini clinic. He starts disinfecting the wound, and very pointedly does not look up when he asks, “This is not just a bite, is it?”

How the fuck does he know that?

Peter wants to yank his hair out. 

And cry.

Jason looks over at him, eyes soft, lips turned down, and shrugs, “Just a bite, Alfie.”

Oh, so he’s going to force Peter to say it? Fan-fucking-tastic. “I used my venom,” He whispers, hands gripping the hem of his hoodie so tight his knuckles are turning white. He really wishes he wasn’t wearing his Spongebob outfit today.

The silence that settles in the kitchen is so intense Peter can feel it. 

“You have venom?” Dick asks, and Peter just noticed the man was getting closer and closer to him. He nods, jaw clenched. 

“Wow, you’re like a real spider,” Duke says, looking completely nonchalant as he does. 

Tim has that look in his eyes again, the one that makes Peter want to run and hide, when he says, “Have you always had fangs and venom? You never mentioned it.”

Again, he doesn’t speak as he answers, just shakes his head. 

Alfred finishes up Jason’s hand, wrapping it, and then cleaning up the counter. Jason flexes his hand a bit, before letting it drop to his side. He angles his body so he’s facing Peter, but he speaks to the others in the room, “What does it matter if he always had it?”

Tim gives Peter a calculating look, before turning to Jason, “It matters because it explains the samples I took from him. Every time I looked at them they changed. Not a lot, but enough to notice. Like they were still evolving. Peter, are you actively experiencing changes to your abilities?”

Well, he woke from the jello pit without fangs and venom, so he thinks the answer to that question is fucking duh. “I mean, yeah. Just the fangs and venom, though.”

His for now went unsaid, but he thinks Tim got it. 

“Could it be me?” Duke asks, “I mean, the first time we met we all saw what happened. Maybe it sparked something.”

Jason makes a humming sound, “Not to call the kid out, but he was totally biting me before he met you.”

Peter totally feels called out.

Steph snorts, jumping off the counter, “Maybe he’ll evolve into a full spider. Oh my god, how creepy would it be if he ended up looking like an actual spider man ?”

They don’t know, Peter thinks. He only told Jason about people not liking mutants. He hadn’t even told the man about the Church of Humanity.

“Do ya think you’re gonna go back to your universe and keep your new abilities? That’d be cool!” Duke says, jumping a little on the balls of his feet.

No, it fucking wouldn’t be cool, Peter wants to scream. He gets by as a regular kid back in his universe because his abilities are easy to hide. If he starts acting and looking more like a spider, he’d be fucked. New York is pretty accepting, considering the Avengers, but anti mutant groups are everywhere. 

He doesn’t realize he’s hyperventilating until his vision goes black. Peter feels like he’s having an out of body experience, like his perspective has been plucked out of him and is now watching him from above. He doesn’t feel himself collapse, but he sees it. He hears Jason move to catch him, but ultimately Dick is closer, and reacts faster. 

Peter slams into Dick’s arms, and he notes the man smells like gunpowder too. Is that a Gotham thing? He also smells spearmint gum and cookies. Peter loves spearmint gum. 

“What the fuck was that?” Jason asks, sounding breathless. 

Damian’s voice cuts through Peter’s blacked out vision, like a sword, and slowly light bleeds into Peter’s eyes. He sees everyone forming a bit of a circle around him, but leaving enough space so they’re not crowding him. 

Definitely not their first rodeo, huh?

“Obviously, Peter had a panic attack, Todd.”

Peter focuses on Jason, watches as he rolls his eyes, and then locks onto Peter. He scoots in close, hands cupping Peter’s face, “With us, kiddo?”

He nods, blinking a few times. “That’s embarrassing.”

Peter doesn’t realize he’s practically laying in Dick’s arms until the man speaks, voice vibrating in his chest against Peter’s back, “Not embarrassing, Peter, just worrying. Do you know why that happened?”

He squirms out of Dick’s arms, moving closer to Jason, who doesn’t hesitate to drop his hands from Peter’s face and yanking Peter into his space. 

“Um, well,” Peter mumbles, trying to think of what to say, “I told Jason a little about it, but, um, some people don’t like mutants, er, metas, in my universe. At all.”

Duke frowns at that, “What do you mean they don’t like metas?”

“They don’t like them,” Peter repeats, not seeing where the confusion is coming from, “There’s a whole church dedicated to eradicating them.”

That gets some reactions. 

But before anyone can say anything, Bruce speaks, “Perhaps we should move this to the sitting room, rather than conversing with Peter and Jay on the floor.”

And, oh. Yeah, Peter would like to maybe sit in a chair and not a tiled kitchen floor. Jason lifts him up as he stands, and they all file out of the kitchen. His hands stay on Peter the entire time, like if he lets go Peter will just fall to the floor again. 

They pile into the sitting room, not the same as the game room, and everyone is quick to plant themselves around Peter and Jason, who sit on a loveseat underneath the windows. 

“Tell us about the church,” Duke demands, sitting on the coffee table directly in front of them. He has his hands on his knees and his eyes look a little wild. 

Jason has an arm slung around Peter’s shoulders, and he takes great comfort in having the man so close. “They’re called the Church of Humanity. They’re part of a group called Friends of Humanity, but they’re both anti-mutant. Mega anti-mutant. The church crucified some mutants on the lawn of the X-Mansion,” Peter stops, remembering these guys don’t even know what the mansion is, “Uh, the X-Mansion is where the X-Men live. Also where Xavier Institute for Higher Learning is. It’s for, like, mutants to live and go to school. They learn to be X-Men there.”

Duke looks fucking enthralled, “X-Men? That sounds so fucking cool. Did you go to that school?”

Peter shakes his head, picking at his sweats, “Nah. I’m not technically a mutant. I’m a mutate because I got my powers later, but mutants are born with their powers.”

“What’s with the division?” Steph asks, painting her nails. 

Where did she get the nail polish?

“Do we really need to go into this?” Tim says, sounding frustrated, shaking his head, “Did you fucking say they crucified mutants?”

He nods, “They say man is created in God’s image, but mutants aren’t. They’re just like the Purifiers, but those guys are even crazier. They think mutants are children of the Devil which means they need to be exterminated.”

Dick looks disgusted, “What fucking assholes,” He says, crossing his arms, “That why you panicked? If you go back and look… Less human, you’ll have a target on your back.”

Peter swallows, nodding. 

“I get by now, but I look normal. If I go back and look like a spider… I mean, I don’t know, I could be fine, but I could also… Not… Be…” His voice trails off.

There’s silence in the room before Cass speaks, “Safe.” 

It’s all she says, and when Peter gives her a confused look, she says, “Here.”

Oh.

He’s safe here.

Peter takes a deep breath, looking away from her. Looking away from everybody, really. 

“Are you sure you wish to return to that universe?” Damian asks, looking disgusted as Peter speaks. 

“Damian,” Bruce warned, but Damian kept going, “No, father. It is a good question. Peter, your universe sounds terrible. You work alone, are constantly hurt, there are terrorist organizations actively hunting and killing those like you, and you said it yourself to me yesterday: your rogues are routinely attempting to murder you. Why go back to a place like that?”

Jason tenses beside him, “What’s this about rogues trying to kill ya?”

Trust Damian not to keep his mouth fucking shut. Peter glares at the boy, but Damian stares back, completely unbothered. 

“My Aunt May is in my universe. And my friends, Ned and MJ. And, yeah, Tony’s kinda iffy, but he’s there too. So, my friends and family are back there.”

He feels weird saying that, because he kind of sees the people around him as that too. Friends and family. Which makes him feel real shitty about using that as a reason to leave.

No, not leave .

Return.

Damian arches one eyebrow, “We talked a lot yesterday, Peter. Try a different reason.”

God, can Damian read his fucking mind or something?

“I don’t belong here,” Peter whispers, leaning more into Jason’s side, who readily tightens his arm around him.

Damian scoffs, “Why not? You died in your universe, yes?” Little blunt, but whatever, “You have read the reports, just as I have. Your body is missing, Peter. What are you going to be sent back to?”

Nobody says anything, so Damian keeps going, “You have a body here. A body that belongs in this universe. I doubt Constantine will be able to send you back with a body, considering you did not come here with one. You will have to return as you came. So, again, what are you going to be sent back to?”

Peter’s breathing is getting heavy again, and Jason says, “Cut the shit, Damian.”

He doesn’t, just eyes Jason as he continues, “I am being honest. Saying things all of you have said, just not to Peter.”

What?

“What?”

Everyone looks uncomfortable then, with nobody making eye contact with Peter. Well, nobody except Damian. 

“All of you have been talking about this?”

Peter thinks he’s a fucking idiot. These people are family, whether they’re fucked up or not, of course they talk. Peter eyes Tim’s phone, wondering if it’s some group chat they have. Texting away about how fucked Peter is without ever telling him. What fucking assholes!

His jaw clenches, that bitter liquid filling the back of his throat, and his teeth start aching. 

A week with these bitches and they’ve been chatting away behind his back, all about how terrible Peter’s life back in his universe must be. 

Peter hears Dick say, “Oh shit,” But he doesn’t care why.

He’s too fucking angry to care.

Jason’s arm is pulled away from Peter, and the man attempts to manhandle him, force Peter to face Jason head on, but he doesn’t want to face Jason. Well, he does. But only if he gets to bite the shit out of him.

So he wrenches himself away, throwing his body into a standing position. “Fuck you!” Peter yells, glaring down at Jason. The man just sits there, doesn’t even open his mouth to say anything. “Fuck you!” Peter repeats, feeling his body vibrate with his anger.

When Jason stays silent, Peter keeps going, “You didn’t let me read the reports, even though all of you assholes already have. You didn’t tell me you knew my real age. You didn’t tell me you knew my body was missing. You apparently only talked to all of these stupid heads about all of those things!” Peter shoves Jason when he tries to stand up, and the man collapses into the couch, “Talked about me ! About my shitty fucking life and my shitty fucking choices and how worthless those things are compared to this shitty fucking place!”

He’s heaving by the end of it, and yet, no one speaks. It makes him so fucking angry that they’re all just sitting there, listening to him, not defending themselves or apologizing. 

And Jason.

There’s no reaction from the man, and Peter wants one so fucking bad.

So, he forces one.

Peter knows he can jump. And he knows with Duke around he can jump even higher. So he crouches down, and then springs back up, twisting easily to grab onto the ceiling with his hands, drawing his feet up with him. He feels satisfaction flood through him at the guffaws below him, especially when he hears the steady heartbeat he takes way too fucking much comfort in jump up in speed. 

He crawls, quick as he can, through the open doors and away. Peter doesn’t know the place very well. He’s only been in a few rooms here and there, but he can hear the room he wants.

It’s easy enough to map the path in his mind, following the hum of electricity and the ticking of the too-fast clock. 

Peter hears the feet following him, but he’s always been fast. 

Especially compared to non-enhanced individuals. 

Well, non-enhanced individuals and Duke.

The doors to the office are locked, which, duh. There’s a secret door in there that if someone found would just out the entire family as the bat vigilantes running around the city. 

No matter.

He dangles from his fingertips, rocks back and forth a few times, just enough to gain some momentum, and then draws his legs back one last time before he rams them forward. The heels of his feet connect with the office doors, busting them open with a loud crack! and Peter returns to crawling along the ceiling. 

He drops to the floor in front of the clock, smiling as he turns it to the correct time. Fucking idiots for showing Peter the super secret lair code was 10:47. 

It opens easily, and Peter fucking sprints down the dark hallway. No Jason to hold his hand this time, he thinks angrily. Also, fuck Jason. 

He makes it to the elevator, jamming the button over and over again like Jason did, and the doors close just as he hears the thundering feet of Jason and Bruce coming into the office.

The elevator takes him down into the cave, opening up to the circle platforms, and Peter heads straight for the batcomputer. 

His samples are there. His DNA. Reports about him. Notes about him, probably, if Tim’s hyperfixation is anything to go by. Hopefully even their fucking chat logs that are about him. 

Peter remembers enough from Ned how to get into computers people think are locked up well enough. It doesn’t even take him long, stupid fucking Tim, he’s going to hold this over that man’s head forever. 

Now to searching. 

He finds the DNA files easy, mostly because it’s the most useless thing about him in this universe. There are no connections, so it wasn’t hidden too much. His sample files are deeper than he expected, and he’s a little embarrassed that he can’t quite understand what all of it means. He’s never been crazy interested in all that. Or, well, he is interested in biology, but he’s never really explored it that much.

The chat logs are there. 

Labeled “Peter Chat”, fucking losers.

He finds how Damian sent it to his tablet, and sends them all there. If they get to talk about him, then he gets to read all about it. Only fucking fair. He’s pushing himself back from the desk just as Jason and Bruce tumble out of the elevator. 

All three freeze, staring at each other, before Jason takes careful steps forward, “Pete.” His hands are raised, as if he’s approaching a wild animal, and that sets Peter’s anger off again. Jason stops, as if he can tell when Peter’s anger spikes. How can he tell that, though? 

Bruce approaches instead. “You’re right, Peter, it was not fair of us to have these conversations about you without you knowing.”

Oh brother, this guy stinks. 

“We’re sorry,” Bruce says, “And I am sorry for how Damian told you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Damian’s like that,” Peter says, “I’m used to people being blunt.”

And he is. MJ would’ve done just what Damian did. He wasn’t angry because Damian told him, he was angry that Damian had to tell him. He should’ve already known. 

“The messages were not in quite the way Damian presented them to be,” Bruce explains. “We care about you, Peter. You’ll read those messages and discover that for yourself, I promise. Yes, we discussed you returning to your universe, and what that would mean, but we never judged your life there. We expressed our worry over your support system, and the care you would receive upon your return, but there were no poor comments made.”

Bruce made a face then, and amended his statement, “Poor comments were made, but not about your life or your choices.”

Poor comments about Tony, Peter figures. 

Jason seems to defrost, but he doesn’t address Peter. He turns to Bruce and says, “Get out.”

Which… Huh?

Bruce takes one look at Jason before he turns and exits the cave. The elevator whirs for a minute before Jason moves forward, pulling another desk chair with him until he can sit in it in front of Peter.

“It’s time for honesty hour, kiddo,” Jason says, taking a deep breath. 

Oh fuck yeah it is. Peter arches an eyebrow, attempting to look like Damian, but he thinks he missed the mark. 

“Not about the fucking messages, Peter. About… Us,” He says the last part like he might throw up. He swallows, and says, “I’m not used to all this, ya know? You barreled into me, literally, by the way, and changed everything. Ya know, this Sunday at the manor was the first time I’d joined family lunch in months?”

What.

Peter doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet, wanting Jason to continue. 

“I’m not good with this, bud. Emotional shit. Since I’ve been back in Gotham, I’ve been… Trying, and failing, honestly, to get my shit together. Make… Amends, I guess. I did some fucked up stuff after I came back. To life, I mean. Instead of talking about anything, I basically beat the shit out of everybody and attempted to commit murder.”

Jason isn’t looking at Peter, but at his hands, which are clasped together in his lap. “Anyways, I was working on it. Getting better, I think. And then you came, and I kinda realized I wasn’t getting better. Or, I wasn’t really trying that hard to get better. But I wanted to be better. For you.”

Peter really wants Jason to look at him, but he doesn’t know how to ask. 

“It sounds fucking crazy, and it kinda is. I mean, it’s been a week, but it’s felt like I’ve had you for years. Something just… Makes sense with you. Clicks.”

Samesamesame , something inside him sings. 

Jason finally looks up at Peter, and he feels like he can actually breathe again, “So, honesty hour.”

Jason takes a deep breath, and says, “I really fucking care about you. I feel like that’s obvious, but I’ve been told sometimes ya gotta say the obvious shit.”

That sounds like something Dick would say. Maybe Duke.

“I care about you, kiddo, and,” He pauses, looks back down at his hands, before he reaches for Peter’s, gripping them so tight if Peter was a normal kid he’s sure it would hurt, “And as selfish and fucked up as it sounds, I really don’t fucking want you to leave. I know you have to, because ya got a savior complex to rival the best of us and think ya gotta go back as part of your duty, but… I really wish you’d just stay.”

Oh.

Peter… Wasn’t quite expecting that. 

“My Aunt May,” Peter whispers, thinking about his only living family member left. She’d be all alone without him. 

She already is alone, he thinks. 

He’s dead, remember?

Dead and missing. 

Jason nods his head, licking his lips and says, “I know, kid. I said I understood that ya hafta to go back. And I admitted it was entirely fucking selfish to want you to stay. I just… Had to say it.”

Honesty hour, Peter remembers. 

Guess that applies to him too, huh?

“I feel bad,” Peter says, “Because… Because sometimes I don’t even think about my Aunt May. Or my friends. Sometimes I just, uh, like being with you and everyone else. But that makes me bad, right? I mean, she’s the last person in my entire family that’s even alive, and I should be fighting tooth and nail to get back to her.”

Jason gives him a sad smile, pulling on his hands until Peter’s chair rolls even closer to him. Their knees are touching, and it actually makes Peter feel a little better. Probably why he did it. 

“You’re not a bad kid, Pete, never could be.”

They’re quiet for a while after that. Peter has a moment to think on his recent actions and feels himself blushing. “Uh, I’m sorry for how I reacted.”

Jason is immediately shaking his head, “Nah, no way. You were just told we had all been talking behind your back, so it was fair.”

Peter thinks Jason is way too forgiving of him. 

“Would it be bad,” Peter whispers, “If I wanted to stay?”

Since his hands are holding Peter’s, he can feel when they tense. Jason swallows loud enough for Peter to hear, and says, “No. It wouldn’t be bad.”

“Can I have a hug?” Peter asks suddenly, and before he can feel childish for the question, Jason pulls him out of his chair and into his arms. It’s a good hug, and Peter melts into it, squeezing his eyes closed. “I still think I should go back to my universe,” Peter says into Jason’s shoulder, “But Damian’s right. What’s there to even go back to?”

Jason rubs circles on his back, and says, “You’re sure your nightmare was real? About turning to dust. Maybe it really was just a bad dream.”

He’s shaking his head before Jason even finishes his sentence. 

“No, it was real. I could feel it.”

Jason sighs, which tickles Peter’s ear. “Constantine is coming in a few weeks, remember? He’ll be able to answer our questions.”

A few weeks.

So, essentially, Peter is going to spend the next few weeks agonizing about questions he won’t get the answer to. Sweet.

Jason pulls away, but keeps his arms firmly around Peter, “We good?”

Peter nods, already dreading going back upstairs to face everyone. 

“You sent the chat to your tablet, right?” Oh, Peter forgot about that. He bites his lip, nodding, and Jason continues, “Good. Read through ‘em later, okay?”

He didn’t realize he kind of wanted Jason’s blessing to read the chats, but he does feel better with having it. Maybe because he totally just broke into the cave and hacked into the batcomputer to get it. 

Wait.

Fuck!

Peter’s face screws up, “Shit! I broke through the office doors!”

Jason starts laughing, snorts littered throughout, and Peter can’t help but laugh with him. Looking back, that was fucking crazy of him to do. He tries to imagine breaking down Tony’s doors, and the face that Tony would make has him laughing harder.

“Oh kid,” Jason says between laughs.

Their laughter subsides as the elevator arrives, Dick falling out of it, with Damian walking around him. 

“What’s the joke?” Dick asks, rushing toward them. Damian curls his lip at the man, but heads toward them too.

“Nothing, Dickie,” Jason sings, depositing Peter back into the chair. 

Dick pouts but lets it go. “Bruce and Tim went to their meeting. Duke got called out by Babs,” He explains, “And ya know, Cass and Steph, they’re off plotting world domination.”

Damian scoffs, “As if they could take over the world without me.”

That earns him a hair ruffle by Dick, which makes Damian bare his teeth at him and swat his hands away. Eventually, Damian turns to Peter, “Your departure from the sitting room was impressive. Have you ever been trained?”

He blinks a few times, shaking his head. “I watched videos of Black Widow and copied how she moves.”

“Black Widow?” Dick asks, hopping onto the desk, crossing his legs. 

Peter smiles, “She’s a badass. She used to be an assassin. I used to obsess over her videos and try to mimic her moves even before I became Spider-Man.”

Damian seems interested then, “An assassin? How do you know about her?”

“She’s in the Avengers, like the Justice League, remember?”

Damian hums, but Peter doesn’t know if that means he remembers or if he just didn’t care enough to ask anymore questions. Either way, Peter leaves it be. 

“Wanna go to the gym now, Peter?” Dick asks, heart going hummingbird speed as he sits perfectly still on the desk.

Peter wonders how the man hasn’t had a heart attack. Whatever. He looks down at his clothes, and again, he regrets wearing his Spongebob outfit. As if hearing his thoughts, Damian says, “Yes, I would advise changing. Your clothes are horrendous.”

He pouts, looking up at Damian, “Tim bought me these clothes.”

“Then that explains it.”

Peter huffs, jumping up from his chair, “Jay packed me more clothes, but I don’t know where Alfred took my bag.”

Damian gestures for Peter to follow him, “You are in the room across from mine, Peter. I will show you the way.”

He looks over at Jason, who just gives him a smile and shoos him away with his hands. Peter isn’t dumb. He knows Jason and Dick are going to talk about everything that just happened. And… He can totally listen in on it. 

But that thought alone makes him feel icky.

It’s not like they’re talking behind his back about him, he guesses. He’s never had a brother but he’s seen siblings on TV and stuff that they talk about things like this. Right? Get advice and shit. And Dick is Jason’s older brother, so he thinks Dick would press Jason for information.

Maybe Dick really is the one that’s been telling Jason sometimes ya gotta say the obvious shit . 

He leaves them behind, following dutifully behind Damian, and makes sure his hearing draws away from the cave and the inhabitants. 

But not before he hears Dick ask, “How’d it go?” Which was answered by a long and drawn out sigh by Jason.

“There’s lotsa rooms in this place,” Peter comments, head swiveling back and forth as they walk down the hall.

Damian looks at the doors they pass, as if just noticing them, and says, “Yes. Everyone has their own bedroom, and bathroom. And there are guest rooms, offices, studies, sitting rooms, and TV rooms.”

TV rooms? That phrase sounds like something an eighty-year-old man would say. Peter smiles at the back of Damian’s head. But then it clicks what he just said. “Wait, how big is this place? Dick mentioned all the other things it has, like a ballroom and gym, but…”

They come to a stop by a simple door, which is different from the decorated ones further down the hall. Peter can see stickers and writing on the doors, with the one nearest them sporting a messily scrawled STEPH’S ROOM! STAY THE FUCK OUT TIM! 

“The manor is four stories, with all of the guest rooms being on the second floor, and the private rooms being on the third floor. Fourth floor rooms include the library, observatory, and a hidden room intended for emergencies.”

What the fuck.

Peter never felt so poor in his entire life.

Not even hanging at the Tower with Tony made him feel this poor.

“I had to get used to its size when I first came to live here,” Damian says, opening the door in front of them. Peter understands. This place is fucking ginormous. “The smaller size of the estate along with the significant lack of servants was difficult to acclimate to.”

Peter freezes, foot in the air, and just gawks at Damian.

Smaller size of the estate?

Lack of servants?

Damian turns to look at Peter, eyebrows furrowed, “What did I say that shocked you?”

“Uh, all of it?” Peter says, stumbling as he rights himself, “My Aunt May and I lived in her car for a few months after my uncle died and I thought having my own bedroom after that was, like, the height of luxury. Then I see this place and I’m, like, oh, I’m so fucking poor. Then you say this place is small, and I think again, shit, I’m mega fucking poor.”

Damian turns toward him, hands clenched into fists, before he relaxes, “I apologize for making you feel that way. I… That was not my intention.”

Oh.

Peter feels bad.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… A lot, I guess. I mean, I hung out with Tony so I know what wealth looks like, but I never stayed at the Tower. So, it was kinda easy to just, ya know, forget about it. I’d fuck around with Tony in his lab and then go home.”

Damian nodded, once, “I understand. The others would empathize with you. Well, not Drake, as he grew up on the estate nearest this one, but the others would. Todd, especially.”

Of course when Tim said he grew up rich he meant rich rich. 

“Now, this is your room,” Damian explains, changing the subject. “Your bathroom is through that door near the window, and I am sure there are spare clothes in the closet and dresser should you wish to wear something Drake did not purchase for you.”

Huh? Peter walks over to the closet doors, opening them slowly. He’s greeted with a closet filled with clothes, hoodies, t-shirts, button ups, suit jackets, what the fuck? “If Tim didn’t do this, who did?”

Peter turns around as he asks, finding Damian looking rather awkward in the center of the bedroom. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and there’s a dusting of a blush on his tan skin. 

“When I learned you would be staying here, I told Alfred you would require clothes,” Damian grits out, “After all, packing a bag for the nights you came would be tedious. So, Alfred and I went out and purchased these for you.”

Oh.

Peter feels ooey gooey inside, and he smiles at Damian, “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Damian inclines his head, likely hiding his eyes from Peter. 

“But, um, what are the suits for?”

The boy walks over to the closet, as if inspecting the items he chose, and says, “It is best to be prepared for all possible situations.”

… Sure. Whatever. 

“My room is the door across the hall,” Damian states, moving to point to the door as if Peter wouldn’t know. He still looks out at it, and sees another simple door, no decorations. “How come you didn’t decorate your door?”

Damian’s lip curls, “Because I am not so immature that I require stickers on my door.”

Well then. With Peter’s silence, Damian seems to assume he insulted Peter, and he turns quickly, “But if you should like stickers, I am sure you would choose better ones than the others.”

Peter smiles, “Yeah, totally. After all, I’m way cooler than them.”

Damian nods, agreeing. 

“I will leave you to change. I will be waiting in my own room,” When Damian turns to walk away, he stops and says, “Not that it will matter now, but in the future, if my door is closed, please knock. If it is open, you are welcome to come in.”

And then he leaves, shutting the door behind him. 

Peter’s now wearing a lightweight t-shirt, and some joggers. The t-shirt is from the duffel bag, but the joggers are something Damian picked out. He figured he should wear something from Damian, since it was obvious he put in the effort and time to pick stuff out for him. 

When he leaves his room, he spies Damian’s door open, just a sliver. He knocks against the doorframe, just as a warning, and opens the door up enough to peek inside. 

Damian is sitting at a large table, angled toward him. It looks like one of those architect tables. He looks up at Peter, and down at his clothes, “Much better.”

Peter doesn’t know why he feels so proud at the kind of compliment. 

The boy stands from the table, setting aside some fancy looking pencils. When he’s out from behind the table, Peter can see that he’s also changed. He’s now wearing tighter fitting, all black clothes. “Dick is already waiting for us in the gym. Shall we go meet him?”

He’s holding onto his phone, and Peter feels a thunder of anger go through him, thinking of them texting away while he’s none the wiser. 

But he stamps it down, nodding his head. He follows Damian out, again looking at everything around them. They leave the hallway and enter… Another hallway? Except this one has portraits and paintings covering every inch of the walls around them. He’s slowing down, looking at all of them, when he stops in front of a painting of a man and woman, with a young boy in between them.

“That is my father, and his parents. It was painted when he was five-years-old,” Damian explained, coming to stand by Peter’s shoulder.

Baby Bruce looks so cute, Peter thinks. All big cheeks and big blue eyes. 

Peter finally looks away from the painting, but his eyes are still tracking the others. “What is this room?”

Damian starts walking away, forcing Peter to follow, “This is called the Long Gallery. It is used, usually, for entertaining guests and showing off art collections.”

Oh.

Rich people things.

Who needs an entire room to show off paintings? Fucking crazy.

“Does that happen here? The entertaining guests.”

Damian hums, leading him out of the gallery, “It once did. Now, father tends to sequester guests to the ballrooms and dining hall.”

Wow. Peter wonders what even Tony would think of all this. The man has money, yeah, but even he acted grossed out with the whole old money aesthetic. This aesthetic, more like. Tony liked new and clean, modern and technology-based. This is all wood paneling, tall ceilings, and gothic emblems. 

Peter doesn’t really think he has a preference.

MJ would say they both fucking suck.

Finally, they made it down the multiple sets of stairs, and entered the gym. Peter stops at the door, jaw on the floor, and takes it all in. It’s like Dick said, a fully furnished gymnastics gym. There’s balance beams, uneven bars, still rings, a fucking pommel horse, the open floor, and a vault. Peter thinks he may have died and gone to heaven. 

Well, he’s definitely died.

So maybe this is heaven.

“Peter, Dami!” Dick yells, stretching out on the floor. “Come stretch!”

Both boys listen, sitting on the floor by Dick and copying his pose. Jason comes over, not dressed for stretching, and just stands over them. He grimaces as he watches Dick and Peter easily fall into the splits, with Damian glaring at them.

“Easy, Dames, don’t wanna burn a hole into their heads,” Jason teases.

Damian turns his glare on Jason, who just sticks his tongue out at him. 

“Were you flexible before or after you got your powers?” Damian questions, watching Peter lay his upper body flat against his legs in a butterfly pose. 

“Before, but not this flexible. The bite definitely helped. Made my bones less dense,” Peter explained.

All three look at him with varying expressions of disgust, but Jason’s the one to say something, “I’m sorry, did you just say your bones are less dense?”

Peter nods, grinning up at Jason, “Spiders don’t even bones, Jay. I’m lucky I got to keep mine.”

Dick gasped, hands grabbing at his head, “No, I don’t like the thoughts I’m having about that!”

Peter laughed, and Damian smiled, and said, “That sounds as though it would be useful when in tough situations. Like being stuck somewhere, or tied up.”

He nods quickly, hair falling into his face. Huh, he might need to get a haircut soon. Oh well.

“When I was stuck under a building, it definitely helped. With all that concrete I totally would’ve been crushed to death if I wasn’t able to be squished more than a normal human.”

Uh oh, Peter thinks.

Why the fuck did he say that?

Tony doesn’t know about the building thing! Why’d he tell these fucks? How dumb is he?

“Explain,” Jason says, voice low.

Uh, Peter doesn’t want to. 

But with Damian’s narrowed eyes and Jason’s tense body hovering over him, he thinks he’s probably going to have to explain. He sighs, falling backwards so he’s laying flat on the mat. Jason looks down at him, waiting. 

“So, Tony took my suit away, right?”

Not the best start, especially with the way Jason’s eyes seem to be slowly turning radioactive. 

“He took the suit away,” Peter repeats, “And, uh, told me to stand down basically. I was working a case, which I don’t really do, but it was in my neighborhood, so I had to work it. And Tony… He apparently was working it too, but he didn’t tell me that so I just kept going. And then some other shit happened…” He did not want to relive the ferry incident, “And he took the suit away. But I didn’t stop. Because I don’t really know how to stop.”

Dick makes a noise, like agreement, and mumbles, “Sounds like the rest of us.”

Peter smiles, just a little, watching Jason’s eyes dim as he looks down at him, “Anyways, this guy totally trapped me. I didn’t even realize I’d been cornered until it was too late. He knocked out the supports in the warehouse we were in, and it fell on top of me.”

Damian interrupts, “Wait, you were not exaggerating? An entire building collapsed on top of you?”

Peter nods, rolling his head over to look at Damian’s pinched face. “Like I said, if my bones were normal, I totally would’ve been a goner, but they’re not normal, so I was fine. Ish,” He pauses, trying not to remember what it felt like to be squished under tons of concrete, “I lifted the shit off of me and went after Vulture. Stopped him and everything,” Peter states, feeling kind of boastful. 

“You lifted an entire building off of you?” Dick asks, crawling so he’s closer to Peter.

Peter nods, “Yeah, a mixture of adrenaline and absolute fear got that shit off me within seconds.”

Jason grunts, eyes narrowing. “You were so scared you were able to lift a building off of you?”

Oh, maybe he shouldn’t have said that. 

“I get scared lotsa times,” He whispers, staring up at the bright lights overhead. 

“Yes, well, there are times when I am scared,” Damian says quietly, not looking any of them in the eyes, “But I always have someone there to call on when I am scared.”

Back to this again, Peter thinks.

Jason must see it on his face, because he trudges through what Damian said, “I’m glad you made out from under the building.”

Yeah.

Peter is too.

He sits himself back up, locking eyes with Dick, “Can we do stuff now? I wanna do the uneven bars!”

Dick smiles, shooting to his feet, “Hell yeah, let’s go!”

They broke for lunch, but otherwise spent hours in the gym. Damian had moved on, bored of watching Dick and Peter compete in the same things over and over again. Jason stayed the entire time, smiling whenever Peter declared himself the winner.

Alfred had come in, and demanded they stop, and have a proper meal. His word was law, it seems, because Dick immediately headed toward a door, citing he needed a shower first. Peter followed, marveling a the fact they had an actual fucking shower room attached to the gym.

He had heard his room door open, and Jason set something down. 

When he left the shower, he found his Spongebob outfit on the bench. He smiled, drying off and yanking the clothes on. Leaving the showers, he finds Jason and Dick waiting for him, and they make their way to the kitchen. 

Damian was already there, and Bruce. There’s a small table tucked into the corner, near the windows, and Peter figures it's used for meals like these. The non-Sunday meals. Less formal.

They all sit down together, and Alfred places plates of grilled chicken in front of them. There’s bread bowls in the center, and Peter immediately grabs a roll. Jason grabs two more and puts it on Peter’s plate. When he looks around, he also notices how he has… Way more chicken on his plate than the others. Alfred comes back with drinks, and Peter looks up at him. He doesn’t really want to say thank you, because then that would draw attention to him, so he just smiles at the butler.

Alfred smiles back, laying a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder as he moves away from the table.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, before Dick speaks, “When are you going out, Little Wing?”

“After dinner, probably,” Jason answers, putting even more bread on Peter’s plate.

But, wait. What?

Peter looks up at the man, “You’re leaving after dinner?”

Jason nods, not even glancing at him. “Yeah, gotta go check on some kids in the Alley, and do some other shit.”

Oh.

Well, that makes sense.

And who is Peter to be upset about Jason checking on other kids? Other kids that are going to stay in this universe, and continue to be taken care of by Jason. Peter’s just passing through, isn’t he? And it’s not like he needs Jason to tuck him in! He didn’t have him there when Dick watched him.

But… He was in the safe house, then. It was normal. Safe, for lack of a better word. 

He’s never slept at the manor before. 

“Good, Pete?” Dick asks, looking up at him from his plate.

That draws Jason’s attention, who finally looks over at Peter. He doesn’t think his face gives him away, but maybe it does, because Jason immediately sets his fork down and gives Peter his full attention. “What’s up?”

Peter shakes his head, “Nothing. When will you be back tomorrow?”

Jason keeps watching him, but he finally turns back to his plate as he says, “Early. I’m always there before you wake up, aren’t I?”

He nods, chewing on his chicken for longer than he really needs to. 

Damian eyes him, but doesn’t say anything, thank fucking god.

Bruce doesn’t get the memo, “I am staying in tonight, Peter, and my room is close to yours and Damian’s. Feel free to come to me if you have any issues.”

Peter grimaces, because nah, he’s not fucking doing that. He’d rather live in his nightmares than run to Bruce’s room. Jason glares at Bruce, but doesn’t say anything, so Peter gives the man a polite nod. 

Dinner continues, and nobody talks about Jason leaving again.

Until it’s time for him to actually leave.

Peter doesn’t want to go to the cave with Jason and Dick, so Jason yanks Peter into the game room.

“Honesty hour doesn’t have to be one and done, Pete. What’s up?”

Ugh!

Peter hates himself sometimes. “I’ve never slept here.”

Jason takes a moment, and then realizes what’s wrong. 

“I can stay a little longer. The Alley ain’t going anywhere, promise that. I’ll stay until you go to sleep.”

But Peter’s already shaking his head, “No, no, no. You said you had kids to check on, so check on them. I’ll be fine, I’m not a baby!”

“I know you’re not a baby, Peter,” Jason says gently. “It’s okay to need me, though. Ya know that right?”

Sure, whatever, yeah, Peter knows that. Still. It’s pretty embarrassing to need a guy so fucking much after knowing him for a week. 

“Just… What do I do if I have a nightmare?” Peter whispers, chewing on his bottom lip.

Jason sighs, “Ya heard Bruce, he’s staying in. You really can go to him. And Alfred’s gonna be here. And Damian’s right across the hall from you. Any of those people would help you.”

Sure, sure. But none of those people are Jason. 

Peter doesn’t realize he drug his hoodie into his mouth, gnawing on it until Jason reaches into his pocket and pulls out his chew necklace. He pries the hoodie’s neckline out of Peter’s mouth, and drops the necklace around his neck. Peter ignores how embarrassing that was, and starts biting on the necklace. 

“I’ll be back before you even wake up, kid, promise,” Jason whispers, dragging Peter into a hug. Peter goes willingly, laying his head on the man’s shoulder as he hugs back. “I’ll go set up your nightlight before I leave, so all ya gotta do is turn it on, yeah?”

Peter nods, but doesn’t say anything. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, Peter. I…” His voice trails off, and Peter lifts his head up to look at him. There’s a weird look on his face, before he shakes it off, smiling at Peter, “I’ll see ya in the morning,” He repeats, patting him on the back as he lets go.

Peter watches him go, biting probably too hard on his chew necklace. He’s too focused on that to really hear anything, so when Damian appears next to him he nearly jumps back onto the ceiling. 

“I did not mean to startle you,” Damian says, “But I was coming to see if you would like to test your webshooters.” 

In his hands he has Peter’s shooters with the web cartridges already installed into them. Peter grins wickedly, grabbing them from Damian and slipping them onto his wrists. He’s so missed this feeling, he thinks, as he spins his hands around to look at them.

“Where should we go?” Peter asks, looking back up at Damian.

The boy is staring at the webshooters, likely interested in seeing them in action, before he says, “We should go to the gym, just in case you fall.”

When Peter’s about to argue, Damian holds a hand up, “I am not saying you will fall, I am saying just in case .”

His argument dies on his tongue, but he still doesn’t like the implication. Whatever. He grabs onto Damian’s arm, dragging him back toward the gym, “Spiders always land on their feet, Dami, you should know that.”

Damian makes a confused grunt, “I do not believe that is the correct saying.”

“No, it totally is,” Peter argues, smirking as he pulls Damian along.

“It is not.”

“It is.”

“It is not!”

“It definitely is!”

“No, it is not, Peter!”

There’s a brief moment of silence, where all that’s heard is their footsteps echoing through the hallway. And they make it all the way to the gym, before Peter whirls around, dropping Damian’s arm.

“It totally is, by the way,” Peter says, starting the fight again. Damian’s face screws up as he prepares to argue, when Peter simply lifts his hand, and triggers the webshooters, allowing himself to be yanked up and away.

Chapter Text

Peter’s been flinging himself around the gym for a solid hour before Damian holds up a single hand, and gestures for Peter to come to him. He doesn’t even hesitate, throwing himself forward off the web he’s currently holding, letting go as he flips a few times, landing easily in front of Damian. Sadly, Damian does not look impressed with his moves. 

“C’mon, man, not even a ‘that was cool’?” Peter says, placing his hands on his hips.

Damian gives him a blank stare, “I have been watching Grayson perform similar moves for years, Peter. You will have to think of something new to impress me.”

Ugh! What a loser.

“What’d you need, Dami?”

The boy glances down at his wrists, and then back up to him, “May I try your webshooters?”

Peter grins wickedly, “Oh fuck yeah! Let’s do this!”

He immediately starts taking the shooters off, and helps Damian strap them into place. Damian experimentally taps on the triggers, jumping slightly when webs easily shoot from them. But the webs are weak, light shining through them from the thinness, and they taper out a few feet away from them. 

“How do you use them?”

Peter shuffles over, standing side by side with Damian, and lifts the boy’s arm up, aiming for a ceiling brace almost directly above them, “Light taps work in close range settings. Think of grabbing something nearby, covering someone’s mouth, or stopping somebody’s hand. The more pressure you use, the thicker the webs and the farther they’ll go,” To demonstrate, Peter places his hand over Damian’s, shadowing him, and they press down together. 

The web flies up, attaching to the ceiling with a splat , “And now, you twist your hand, and grab it!”

Damian does, waiting for further directions. Peter points to another brace, farther away from them, “Aim for that with your hand, and do the same thing, except don’t let the web go for as long so it creates a bit of tension. You don’t want to have any slack for this one, because it’s going to be the one you yank yourself away with.”

There’s a brief moment of silence where Damian doesn’t do anything, before he turns his head slightly to look at Peter, “How am I meant to use this one, then?” 

He means the web currently attached to the ceiling above them, the one he’s holding with his right hand. Peter flicks it with his fingers, “You’re using it for momentum. When you grab the web with your left, pull yourself up with the right. When you let go, you’ll swing over with the left hand.”

Damian blinks a few times, before he sighs. 

“How old were you when you really started doing this? Swinging around New York City on these webs.”

“Fourteen,” Peter states, wondering why Damian hasn’t tried it yet.

But Damian just shakes his head, “You did all of these calculations at fourteen? Just to swing around?”

He nods, “Yeah, I mean… I never really thought of using a grappling gun. I guess I coulda. But I had spider powers, so it made sense to use webs.”

“It must take a lot of mental strength to constantly be thinking of these things when patrolling. How can you focus on what is around you when you have to think about the correct way to use your webs so you do not fall to the ground?”

Peter blows out a burst of air, lips puffing out. “Uh, it’s kinda second nature now. When I first started, I definitely fell. Lotsa times! That’s where the squishier bones came in handy,” Peter winked, “But, um, yeah, it just comes naturally now. I hardly even think about it.”

Damian nods, and a determined look takes over his face. He scoots his hand up a little on the web he currently has, lifting his left arm toward the mark Peter gave him, and pressing on the trigger. 

The web shot out, thick and spiraling, and Damian cut it off perfectly. Before he does, though, he lifts himself up like Peter said, and when the left web sticks, he drops the one in his right hand, and goes flying across the gym. 

It yanks him away, and then he swings back and forth on the web. He starts twisting as he slows down, looking at Peter each time he spins to face him.

Peter runs over, crazy smile on his face, “That was so badass!” He exclaims, “You did awesome! I definitely slammed into the wall my first time!”

Damian dangles for a moment longer, but he releases the web and drops to the floor by Peter. They both stare up at it, and Damian says, “You taught me. If I had tried alone, I believe I would have fallen as well.”

Peter preens at the implied compliment. 

“I am overjoyed at seeing the two of you having fun together,” Alfred’s voice says, reaching them from the door of the gym, “But I must ask a question of young master Peter.”

He feels his shoulders crawling up to his ears, wondering if he’s in trouble. “Uh, yeah?” His voice sounds shaky even though he didn’t want it to.

“When will these webs of yours disappear? Or shall I clean them?”

Oh! Peter shakes his head, “Nah, no need to clean them. They’re completely biodegradable, and will basically evaporate in a few hours. I can crawl up and get them, though, if you want them gone now.”

Alfred looks at the various webs dangling from the ceiling, before his eyes land on Peter, “There is no need, young master Peter. If they will go on their own, I am pleased enough with that.”

Thank god, because Peter totally did not want to go around and clean this place. He used way too many webs just fucking around. 

“I would like to try the webshooters again sometime,” Damian says, looking at Peter when Alfred leaves the room.

He’s already unclasping them, handing them back to Peter.

“I can make more! These are basically prototypes. 3D printing is cool and shit, but stronger materials would totally be better. Maybe we can make better versions?”

He makes the last part a question, suddenly feeling unsure on if Damian wants to do that with him. The boy seemed interested in how he made his webs, and he liked using the webshooters, but that doesn’t mean he wants to actually make them. 

“What type of materials would be best? I am sure the cave already has what we would need. Perhaps we can start tomorrow morning,” Damian says, likely completely unaware of Peter’s little insecurity act.

But Peter’s aware of it, so he gets a bit excited when Damian basically confirms he wants to hang out with him, and he grabs onto the boy’s arm, bouncing on his feet, “Oh, this’ll be so much fun! Steel and teflon would be the best choice, but the turbines should ideally be made out of artificial sapphire and amber.”

Damian doesn’t care about the manhandling, nodding his head as Peter talks.

“While I do not believe we have sapphire or amber, I am sure we could get some. Perhaps we can build the main structure and then the turbines at a later time.”

“Oh yeah, totally. We could also figure out some other thing to use, it doesn’t have to be what I used originally.”

“We could, yes,” Damian agrees easily, “You are the expert after all, Peter.”

Oh.

He feels his chest puff out.

Peter is the expert, isn’t he?

“There’s always room for improvement, Dami,” Peter says, instead of squealing at the total ego boost Damian just gave him.

Alfred returns to the gym, holding two glasses of water, and simply stares at the two of them until they run over to the butler. Well, Peter runs over to Alfred. Damian walks over calmly. 

Peter takes the glass, saying a quick “thank you”, and downing it. Damian sips it carefully, watching him. “If you were thirsty, all you had to do was say something.”

He knows that! “I was just caught up with the webshooters,” Peter defends himself, “It happens to me sometimes. I get so into whatever I’m doing I’ll forget to eat or drink. Or sleep.”

Alfred and Damian share a look, before Damian mumbles, “Another Tim.”

“In the future,” Alfred says, eyeing him, “I would appreciate it if you brought a water bottle with you to the gym.”

Peter nods his head fast, “Of course!”

After Alfred had taken Peter’s glass away, and came back with it refilled, the butler said, “It is near time for bed, young masters.”

He expects Damian to argue, but he doesn’t. Just hands Alfred his glass, and motions for Peter to follow him out of the gym. Peter hands his glass off, and follows behind Damian. They head back through similar hallways now, through the long gallery, and past decorated doors, before they both stop in front of blank ones. 

Damian has a hand on his doorknob, but before he disappears into his bedroom he turns to say, “If you need me, Peter… I will be right here.”

Peter’s entire face sets on fire, and he nods, quickly opening his own door and throwing himself into his bedroom. He didn’t want to think about Damian basically preparing for Peter to have a nightmare (like a baby ) so he doesn’t. He takes a quick shower, really only washing off the bit of sweat he accumulated from webbing around, and then changes into his pyjamas. Peter slaps his hand on top of the nightlight, turning it on a little too roughly, but looking up at the bat signal dancing across his ceiling. He rolls his eyes, already hearing Bruce and Alfred speaking a bit further down the hall.

Whatever.

He doesn’t want to hear whatever Bruce has to say, so he draws his hearing back in. 

Peter looks at his tablet in his duffel bag, thinking of the reports and the chat log, and drags it into the bed with him. 

Before he gets too comfortable, he runs back to his bag, grabs both of Robins, and his Red Hood, and then jumps back into bed. He places his Red Hood on the nightstand, arms up, facing his bedroom door, and then his Robin figure copies the pose. The stuffed Robin is laid on the bed next to him, and he unlocks his tablet, clicking on the file for the chat logs.

JASON: News on Morlocks?

TIM: In the wind

DICK: How does a whole group of people just disappear 

Tim: I don’t actually know how large the group is. Reports look like they’re written by one person and they only talk about Peter and some unnamed woman

CASS: Peter’s mom? 

CASS: The original Peter, not our Peter

JASON: Tim said the kid’s DNA came back with nothing

DICK: Maybe the woman isn’t in our system either?

BRUCE: The Morlocks were not on our radar, so it stands to reason that their members would be unknown to us.

DUKE: So basically we know nothing

DAMIAN: Typical.

///\\\

DICK: Peter loves the Robin stuffie I gave him #BestUncleEver

TIM: I have literally bought him clothes, books, and food and gave him a tablet filled with Robin videos

DICK: And?

TIM: I’m the best uncle! 

STEPH: Listen, we can solve this EASY. Let’s just put Peter in the center of the floor and see which person he crawls to first

DUKE: He’s not a fucking toddler, Steph

DICK: No no, I like this idea, let’s do it

JASON: He’ll probably cuss you out before biting whoever tries to grab him

DAMIAN: I would like to see this happen. 

BRUCE: When is Peter coming back to the manor? Alfred would like to make him dinner.

///\\\

BABS: Movement near the alley of the LOA base

BABS: Security feed is scrambled 

BABS: Unscrambling

BABS: Am I just talking to myself

DICK: On the way now

DAMIAN: Are they still there? Do you have a picture of them?

BABS: In and out, they’re gone, no picture

STEPH: Is Duke awake? Maybe he can get a glimpse of who was there and why

DUKE: Omw

DAMIAN: Have you heard from Todd? Is Peter alright?

BABS: Both good, Peter had nightmare. Coincidence? 

BRUCE: There are no coincidences. 

///\\\

DUKE: Left base, saw stuff

DUKE: Definitely a woman 

DUKE: Red hair, something attached?growing? out of her back

DUKE: Moved too fast to see face

STEPH: Wdym by growing out of her back…

DUKE: Looked like bones

DICK: I hate the image that just put in my brain

///\\\

DAMIAN: We should ask Peter if he remembers the woman.

JASON: He doesn’t remember anything

DAMIAN: It could jog his memory if we describe what Duke saw.

JASON: No

TIM: It’s not a bad idea Jay

JASON: I said no, Replacement

BRUCE: Peter may remember more than he thinks. Perhaps he’s suppressing the memories. The reports are read as documentation of scientific experimentation. That is something Peter may not want to knowingly remember. But he could be forgetting something useful in finding the people that did this.

JASON has left the chat

DICK: Peter’s been having nightmares lately

DICK: It upsets Jason

DICK: Give him a break

///\\\

BABS: Prowling near J’s old safehouse

BABS: One he first took Peter to

TIM: Already there

DAMIAN: I am on my way. 

BRUCE: Let Tim lead, Damian.

BABS: Scrambled cams, can’t see anything

BABS: Can’t unscramble

STEPH: Got away, whoever they are. Fast. 

STEPH: Wearing cape, tall, man, muscular 

TIM: Cams on?

BABS: Yes, no sign 

DAMIAN: Should we tell Todd?

BRUCE: Not yet. Keep an eye on Jay’s apartment, Barbara

BABS: Always

///\\\

BABS added JASON to the chat

TIM: Tony fucking sucks

JASON: Preaching to the choir, Timmy

BABS: Peter doesn’t seem like his biggest fan

TIM: What? He literally wanted to kill me for questioning the dude

BABS: Because you were questioning him

BABS: Peter gives off big “only I get to call him an asshole” vibes

BABS: Tony lets him be Spider-Man

BABS: That means a lot to Peter

JASON: Guy sucks 

DAMIAN: As much as I loathe to agree with Todd and Drake…

DAMIAN: Tony sucks.

///\\\

DICK: What do you think is going to happen to Peter?

DICK: When he goes back home

CASS: Peter is strong. He will be fine.

TIM: He’s a kid, he shouldn’t have to be strong

CASS: All kids are strong.

DAMIAN: His “home” sounds terrible.

JASON: More he talks about the more dystopian it seems

JASON: Thought Gotham was a shithole

JASON: Gotham got nothing on Peter’s New York

CASS: Peter is obligated to return. He will survive.

STEPH: Yeah but surviving isn’t living

TIM: Wow, you learn that in your intro to philosophy course?

STEPH removed TIM from the chat

CASS added TIM to the chat

TIM: Bitch

CASS removed TIM from the chat

///\\\

DICK: Constantine called

DICK: Might be here earlier than expected 

BRUCE: How much earlier?

DICK: Didn’t say, sorry

///\\\

TIM: Reports clearly state Peter’s body is missing in his home universe

TIM: Can Constantine even return Peter if there’s no body?

STEPH: What if Constantine sends Pete in his current body?

DICK: I don’t think that’d work

DICK: Current body belongs to this universe 

DICK: That’s why Peter wasn’t rejected

DUKE: So if C sends Peter back in our universe’s body, he’d be torn to shreds upon entry

DUKE: Like a rocket ship 

JASON: Great fucking visual, asshole

DUKE: Sorry

DUKE: But true

STEPH: Any ideas how his soul even got here?

DUKE: Meta

DUKE: Could feel it at the base

DUKE: Has to be meta

DAMIAN: Could the meta that brought him here send him back?

TIM: Even if they could, doubt they’d want to

TIM: Brought him here for a reason

STEPH: Think we’re forgetting the part that Peter’s original body is missing. What does that even mean?

BRUCE: I would assume it means the body is no longer available. That Peter’s body was destroyed upon his death.

JASON: You guys all suck

///\\\

DAMIAN: Peter should stay in our universe.

TIM: What are you going to do, D? Tie him up and keep him here?

STEPH: Sounds fine to me

DUKE: I’ll take a vacation so Peter’s abilities go back down a few levels. Should make it easier

BABS: We are not kidnapping Peter

STEPH: It’s not kidnapping. It’s spidernapping. Biiiiiig diff

DAMIAN: His universe sounds too hostile. He is better off staying here, with us. 

DICK: Considering his body was “destroyed” as B so delicately put it, I think he might have to stay here

DICK: Probably better for him anyways

///\\\

JASON: Fuck you, demon brat

JASON: If I knew B and Dickwad wouldn’t die trying to stop me, I’d fucking kill you

BRUCE: What happened?

DICK: ???

TIM: Dami, what’d you do?

STEPH: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

CASS: Steph.

STEPH: sorry

DAMIAN: He deserved them.

BABS: I second Dick’s ???

JASON: You should’ve fucking told me you were going to do that

JASON: Fucking asshole

BRUCE: What are you talking about?

DAMIAN: I gave Peter a copy of the reports about him.

TIM: Bro…

STEPH: Big oof on that one

CASS: Peter deserves them, yes. But he will be upset.

BABS: :(

JASON: Peter freaked the fuck out on me about knowing his other age. Doesn’t want to be seen as weird or a freak for acting like a kid

TIM: HUH???

TIM: He’s ten

TIM: Why would it be weird he acts like it?

JASON: He thinks he should be acting like his other age, not his current age

DAMIAN: That is ridiculous. 

CASS: Brain is ten, so he is ten. That makes sense. 

STEPH: Yeah, I’m with Cass on this one. Also, Dick has the brain of nearly a thirty year old man and he acts like a ten year old, so I think Peter’s fine

DICK: Bros :((

///\\\

CASS removed JASON from the chat

TIM: ??

STEPH: Are we gossiping?!

CASS: Peter should stay.

DICK: No offense Cass but weren’t you the one saying Peter had an obligation?

CASS: Yes.

BABS: What changed?

CASS: Saw them.

CASS: Peter and Jason. 

STEPH: Where did you see them…

CASS: Been watching.

BRUCE: Cassandra…

CASS: Someone needed to.

CASS: Bad people looking for Peter.

CASS: Keeping watch on them.

TIM: Sounds good to me

DICK: Yeah I’m cool with it

BABS: Jason’s so going to freak when he finds out

DAMIAN: What did you see, Cassandra?

CASS: Peter trusts Jason. Feels safe. Good. 

CASS: He’s better here. Safer. 

CASS: Happier.

BABS: How can you know he’s happier here? We haven’t seen him in his universe!

CASS: No but he talks about it.

CASS: I listen.

CASS: Always a little sad. A little upset. Bitter.

CASS: Scared.

DAMIAN: That settles it then. Peter’s going to stay with us.

BRUCE: We do not get to make that decision, Damian. 

STEPH: Why not??? Pete’s a kid, and needs taking care of. We’re taking care of him. 

BABS: Still kidnapping to keep someone against their will, whether you think they’re better with you or not.

STEPH: *spidernapping

DICK: :(

DICK: I vote we keep Peter

BABS: Dude. Does anybody listen to me?

BRUCE: It is Peter’s decision. 

BABS: Thank you!

BRUCE: But that does not mean we cannot show Peter how much we care about him while we have him, and if he decides to stay, then it can be considered a success.

BABS: Oh my fucking god.

///\\\

DICK added JASON to the chat

JASON: Peter remembers how he died

JASON: The first time

BRUCE: Does it explain anything?

JASON: Turned to dust 

JASON: Literally

JASON: Said he was there one second, disappearing the next

JASON: Said him and some other guy just disintegrated 

DICK: Oh yeah that explains… NOTHING

DICK: What the fuck does that mean ????

TIM: Well it explains why his body is labeled as missing

TIM: But yeah what the fuck??

///\\\

TIM: Caped man

TIM: Saw him

TIM: Names Mikhail

TIM: Heard woman call for him

TIM: Ring any bells ????

BABS: No

JASON: Where is he?

TIM: Gone

TIM: Like disappeared into thin air

DUKE: By chance did he turn to dust?

TIM: No

TIM: Think he can just

TIM: Disappear like that

TIM: Popped out

BRUCE: Meta?

TIM: For sure

STEPH: Where are you?

TIM: Alley

TIM: Sorry J

TIM: Near old safehouse

TIM: Think they know

TIM: Peter’s around

JASON: I’m going out tonight

BRUCE: Jaylad, you are emotionally compromised. You should stay with Peter, allow the others to go search.

JASON: Fuck you, old man, I’m not your sidekick anymore

JASON: I’m going

DICK: What about Peter?

JASON: He’s staying at the manor

///\\\

CASS has removed BRUCE, STEPH, BABS, TIM, DAMIAN, DUKE, and DICK from the chat

CASS: Peter

CASS: You’re going to read these soon

CASS: You’re in Bruce’s office now

CASS: We care about you

CASS: In our weird way

CASS: None of us are good at showing it

CASS: Sorry

CASS: Don’t be too angry

CASS: And don’t take it all out on Jason

CASS: He’s trying his best

CASS: He’s new to the dad thing

CASS: But he’s learning fast

Peter skips around a lot on the messages, only stopping when words catch his eye. 

He scrolls to the very end, rereading Cass’s messages over and over again. 

We care about you . 

He’s new to the dad thing .

Peter blinks at them a few times and moves on. Choosing not to think about them too much. There’s plenty of other shit to think about from the messages anyway.

It’s basically everything Damian said, except…

The Morlocks were at their old safehouse? 

A man and a woman.

Does Peter remember a red haired woman? He only knows Babs, and it’s obviously not her. The others thought it may be the mom of the original owner of the body. Is that why PT2R and him exist? A mom whose kid died so she went out looking for replacements. Aslo who the fuck is Mikhail? Peter’s never heard that name before. It doesn’t even sound familiar. 

But these people are in Crime Alley.

They were near the safehouse, which means they know where Peter and Jason lived . Do they know where they are now? 

Cass is watching them, Peter remembers. She’s been keeping an eye on them, just in case, and it doesn’t upset Peter at all. He’d rather Cass watching them than any of the others. 

But is Cass enough against a woman with bones growing out of her? Against a man that’s probably also a meta? He doesn’t want anybody getting hurt. Not for him. 

Jason’s out there now, searching for these people. 

And he didn’t tell Peter.

Is that why he was so eager to get out there? Leaving right after dinner, before it was even dark outside. He said he had to check on some kids but is he actually doing that? 

Peter feels the ache of missing his spider suit so intensely suddenly it makes a little sick.

He has his webshooters already. All he needs is a cowl, really, not even a full suit. 

Jason would never let him out, Peter knows that much. He’d probably attempt to lock Peter up in a tower like some princess before he ever entertained the idea of Peter going out as Spider-Man.

But he hates the thought of Jason out there, searching for people that probably experimented on him for three months, and Peter’s sitting in some mcmansion in his pyjamas, snuggling up to a damned stuffed toy. 

Before his thoughts can continue their downward spiral, Alfred carefully opens the door, holding another glass of water, but this one is only half full.

“In case you are thirsty later, young master Peter,” The butler says, setting the glass down behind his Red Hood and Robin. “Do you require anything else before bed?”

Peter would like to request a vigilante suit, maybe he can take one of the retired Robin suits from the cave? But he knows that’d be met with a single grey eyebrow raised at him, and a very posh “no” from the butler. So instead Peter shakes his head, says, “I’m good, thanks, Alfred. Goodnight,” And tosses over so his back is facing the door.

“Goodnight, young master,” Alfred says, his door closing with a quiet click. 

Peter locks his tablet, certainly not wanting to read any reports from the Morlocks now. His thoughts are eaten up with Jason, with the woman and Mikhail. He flips over again, snatching his Red Hood from the nightstand and squeezing it to his chest. 

From the corner of his eye he watches the bat signal circle above him, and he already knows his dreams tonight are going to be absolutely fucked.

How fucking awesome for him.

There were hands all over his body.

In his hair, running down his arms and legs, grabbing, pinching, pulling. A needle pressed into the crook of his arm, in his neck, his temple. Blood going out, something going in. A hand landed on his face, forcibly opening his eyelids, shining a light into his eyes before letting them slam back closed. 

There’s a pressure around his arm and his right pointer finger. Heart monitors, something tells him. He hears his own steady heartbeat just fine, he doesn’t need these monitors. But the hands do, whoever they belong to. 

There’s talking but his ears feel stuffed.

A wet cloth is roughly rubbed against his face, digging into his eye sockets, scratching across his lips. When it disappears, Peter feels like he can finally open his eyes on his own. So he does, looking up at a bright light.

Multiple people are leaning over him, some blocking a little bit of the light, others hidden in the shadows, but all peering down at him. His sense feels just as sluggish as he does, giving halfhearted alerts to everything around him.

“Patient stable. Preliminary blood work shows the mutation.”

What mutation? His mutation? All those needles… They took his blood. Studied it? Found his spider DNA. But it sounds like they were looking for it. Peter’s brain is waking up a lot slower than he thinks it should, his thoughts trickling in like a stream. 

“Spinnerets?” Another voice asks, deeper than the first.

“Gone.”

They’re talking about webs, his tired brain says. His webs. Except different. He never had real spinnerets. That’s why he made his webshooters. But they expected him to have spinnerets. Why?

“Setules?”

His hand is lifted by another, a head leaning close to inspect it. No, not his hand, his skin . “Present.”

His hand drops back to the table. Peter’s just realizing how cold the table is. Is he in a hospital? Where’s Tony?

“Healing factor?”

Wait!

His sense jumps then, but his body won’t move. He’s still so tired, and his entire body feels like it’s being weighed down. But his brain is screaming, his sense is shrieking, and then he feels something cut into him. Deep. He gasps, eyes screwing up, and tries to shy away from the blade, but it doesn’t work.

The person pulls their tool back out, and then there’s a pause as they wait. Wait to see if Peter will heal. He knows he will, and can feel it already starting. The tingles surround the cut, and the itching sets it, alerting him his skin is slowly pulling itself back together, sewing itself shut. 

“Active.”

Obviously , he wants to scream at them. His tongue is dead weight in his mouth, though, so he just settles for opening his eyes and glaring at the people around him.

If the light wasn’t so bright he could see them properly. See their faces. But mean people tend to hide, Peter thinks. It makes him angry, so angry he wants to attack all of them, even though he doesn’t really know who they are. He feels his legs move before he’s even really processed that he wants them to. He’s going to move into a crouch when something floods into him.

Oh.

There’s a needle still in his arm. Why didn’t he notice that? It’s pumping something into him. Something cold that makes him want to curl up and go back to sleep. He fights the hell out of that feeling though.

“Subject metabolizes sedation quicker than the last.”

The last? Who the hell did they do this to before? Was it someone like him? Is that how they know about everything? They were looking for his mutation from the jump. Checked for spinnerets (did the last person have those?), his setules, and his healing factor. Peter didn’t know there were other spider people out there. But these people did. 

Who are they? And why do they have him?

“Let her see him,” That same deep voice from earlier says, the one that was asking all the questions. 

A quietness settles over them, and Peter can only lay there, being pumped full of something, whatever their sedation is. His eyes are half closed, the light dimming. He isn’t sure if it’s actually dimming or his eyes are just losing focus. A door opens, but Peter can’t even tell which direction it came from. 

He does hear the sound of boots, big, thick boots hitting the floor as they stalk closer and closer to him. A head leans over his body, blocking out the maybe-dimming light from his tired eyes. Her hair falls down, tickling at Peter’s cheeks. One of her hands comes up, ghosting down the side of his face, and then she whispers, “Perfect.”

Her touch stays soft, and it’s warm compared to the coldness of the table and the medicine being pumped into his veins, so Peter lets his hand fall into her palm. She coos at him, the other hand coming up to scratch at his scalp. There’s a deep rumbling, somewhere far in his chest. Like his lungs are vibrating. 

“You always did like my scratches,” The woman said, nails trailing over Peter’s head. 

What? She’s talking like she knows him, but Peter has no idea who she is. Her voice doesn’t sound familiar, and her scent isn’t anything he’s smelled before. She doesn’t smell human, not really. 

“Subject’s preliminary exam determined he has a more advanced version of the mutation.”

More advanced. So he’s more enhanced than the other spider people they found? Why? Maybe Peter’s older than them, so his powers have had a chance to get stronger.

There’s a growl from the woman above him, though his fingers stay gentle where they’re tangled in his hair, “His name is not Subject .”

“Of course!” Comes the hasty reply, paired with a rapidly beating heart, “What- Um, what shall we call him?”

She traces Peter’s lips, his nose, around his eyes. She cups his face and just sighs, as if drinking him in. Whoever she is, she must know him, Peter decides. Has he forgotten her? Maybe he has amnesia. But he doesn’t feel like any memories are gone. 

Okay, well, isn’t that the thing with amnesia? You don’t know what you don’t know! She seems to really care for him. Peter would hate to have forgotten her.

“Peter,” She whispers, “My precious Peter, come back to me again.”

Again? So he does know her. Apparently. He thinks. Maybe. 

His head hurts. 

He wants to just fall back to sleep, and the woman above him must see that, because she leans down even closer to him and says, “Rest, sweet spider. You deserve it.”

And with the IV still pumping away in his arm, he really can’t find it in himself to fight those words. So he closes his eyes, and lets her affectionate touches take him away. 

The next time he wakes he’s in a bed. There’s a thin blanket over him, and the only light in the room illuminates the space around him. He can see everything easily, this time, so he takes it all in. It’s a small room, just the bed inside, and a door on the far wall. Except the door doesn’t have a door knob on it. There’s a space where one should be, obviously, but it’s been removed and covered. 

His sense pings, but there’s not much he can do. Perhaps his strength, on a regular day, could bust the door down but this is no regular day. He still feels sluggish, as if his limbs have been stuffed full of sand.

Peter swings his legs over the side of the bed, hauls himself up, and then takes a few breaths as his vision swims around him. 

He attempts to stand, but quickly falls to the floor. He lays in a crumpled pile, near tears with how fucking weak he feels, when the door opens. 

The unknown scent is back.

When Peter lifts his head up, he sees the woman, but now he can see her. Bright red hair fanned around her face, dark green eyes, and something growing out of her back. It wraps around her ribs, and protrudes from her back like wings. She kneels in front of Peter, and those gentle hands are back.

“You’re weak, sweet spider, you should still be in bed,” She whispers, and those protruding things stretch around, lifting Peter from the floor and carefully laying him back in bed. They retract themselves, but Peter still keeps an eye on them.

She smiles when she catches what Peter is looking at, and says, “They’re just my bones, silly boy. You’ll get used to them again.”

Her… Bones?

Before he can question her, she gestures for somebody to enter, and the IV returns to his arm. He would swat the person away, but he can barely even lift his hand. Instead, he just watches as the IV drip is set up, the cold liquid flooding him once again.

Like last time, she stays. Whispering soft words, delivering even softer touches. His sense is screaming the entire time, and he doesn’t know why. She seems nice. She’s been nice. But his sense disagrees.

He falls asleep ignoring the warning.

It’s his life for a while.

He wakes up, the woman comes to him, and he’s drugged back to sleep. He’s so confused, but there’s never enough energy for him to ask what the fuck is going on. Where’s Tony? Aunt May? If this woman knows him as well as it feels like she does, then she knows about his Aunt May, and Tony. Do they know she has him?

He thinks it may be days later, or weeks, or months, or years, Peter doesn’t know and there’s no way to find out, but he finally gets enough time away from the drugs to move his lips and then his tongue.

The woman is sitting on the bed, humming, just staring at him as she holds his hand. And Peter asks, “Where’s my Aunt May?”

It was slow, each word taking minutes to get out, but he said it and that pleases him. He takes a deep breath, and then winces when his sense starts blaring a CODE RED. 

What?

Surely a question wouldn’t result in a Code Red-

Her protrusions, her bones , grow longer and longer, pinning Peter to the bed. They dig into his shoulders, his legs, going deeper and deeper, puncturing his skin. He whines, low and long, attempting to wriggle away but not succeeding. When he looks up at her, her green eyes are black, and her soft humming is gone.

“You haven’t even asked about me , Peter. I know you don’t remember me, you never do, but the last one asked about me. It was the first words he ever spoke to me, ‘What’s your name?’. But you,” Her bones dig in even more, and Peter thinks maybe they’re going to hit his bones. “You haven’t even bothered to ask about me. I’m your mother, Peter!” She hisses, leaning down so they’re nose to nose. 

Mother? He hasn’t had a mom in a lot of years, so fucking pardon him for not being up to speed on all of this. 

“Ask me, Peter,” She demands, yanking her bones out of his skin with such force all Peter can do is cry, “Ask me for my name.”

No! Peter wants to scream. He’s so not going to give this bitch the satisfaction of asking for her stupid fucking name. He clamps his mouth closed, glaring up at her. 

Peter thinks he may need a code that’s higher than Code Red.

She freezes above him, murder swimming in her eyes, and then one of her bones shifts, elongates, turns into a fucking spear and flies through the air. It slides into Peter’s neck quickly, so fast he doesn’t even realize at first. But then the blood starts pouring out of him, through the wounds and his mouth, and he’s choking on her bone and his blood. His hands scramble up, clawing, attempting to save himself but failing. 

As he’s panicking below her, the woman’s eyes go from black to green in a flash, and her shaking hands press to Peter’s throat as she begins murmuring, “No, no, no.”

She calls for help, and the room floods with too many people. They’re all talking over each other, until the deep voice speaks from outside the door. “To the waters,” The man demands, his deep voice calm and commanding, “Marrow, keep your bone through his neck, we’ll move him as is.”

She listens, but Peter doesn’t think she wants to. They lift him, carefully, and begin moving quickly out of the room. Peter blacks out, he thinks, because he’s looking at the door to his room one moment, and the next he’s in a tunnel, surrounded by rocks. Where did they go? Where are the waters? What are the waters?

The tunnel disappears, giving way to a cavernous room, and he thinks Deep Voice is talking again, but he can’t really hear anything. Suddenly, the bone is pulled from his neck, and just as Peter figures they’re going to leave him here to choke on his own blood, they throw him. 

He free falls, just for a few seconds, before he hits the surprisingly thick water, sinking deeper and deeper. 

Neat, he thinks, instead of choking on blood he’s going to choke on nasty ass cave water. Solid way to die. 

He drifts for what feels like an eternity, before hands grab him again and he’s yanked out of the water. He’s placed roughly on the ground, with the person that does his IV grabbing at his head and twisting him this way and that. 

“Healed,” The man states, looking relieved. 

The woman, Marrow , drops to her knees by Peter, hands grabbing his arm, fingers digging in, “My sweet spider,” She whispers, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Oh.

Is Peter dumb for thinking she was going to apologize? She totally almost killed him, right? The least she could do is say sorry for it. 

Deep Voice watches them, and now Peter gets to really look at the man. He’s tall, taller than Captain America and Thor. He’s not muscular, though, but he’s not thin. Somewhere in between. Like he may not lift weights, but he could still beat the shit out of somebody. He’s wearing regular clothes, which Peter doesn’t think really fits his vibe as Deep Voice. 

Black jeans and a plain grey t-shirt. 

He could be any other white man off the street.

But his sense is going nutty, telling him to fucking watch himself around this bitch. And, well, Peter didn’t listen to it when it came to Marrow and look where that got him! So he’s sure as shit listening to it now. 

“Take him back to his room,” Deep Voice commands, and everyone listens. 

Peter’s carried away, but his eyes stay on Marrow and Deep Voice until the tunnel walls block his view. 

Marrow doesn’t visit him the next few times he wakes up. He also isn’t drugged anymore. Instead, he wakes up and actually feels his body. Peter can move his fingers, wiggle his toes, and even open his mouth. He can stand up, and sit brown, and stand up again. He pulls the IV out of his arm and nobody attempts to replace it.

He’s fed, which makes him wonder how he was eating before. Maybe through the IV? Just pumping him full of drugs and nutrients. He doesn’t like that thought, so he stops thinking about it. 

But that frees his mind to thinking about other things.

Like where he’s at, and why. 

Where’s Tony? These people that have him don’t seem like the best guys, so he thinks perhaps he’s been kidnapped. Or something. If that happened, Tony would come after him, right? He put that tracker on him for a reason. Not that he has the tracker on. He’s been wearing scrub-like clothes. Paper thin, and stretchy. No spider suit, no tracker. No way to contact Tony. 

Each time he wakes up, he gets a bit more of his strength back, but not enough to really do anything. He knows there’s something in the food they’re serving him, but he really has no other choice but to eat it. 

Eat it or starve.

Should he be starving himself? They obviously want him alive, example: throwing him in the water to heal him from Marrow’s wack ass bone attack. He thinks if he starts refusing the food they’ll just put the IV back in. 

When his door opens, it draws Peter from his thoughts, and he sees Deep Voice standing on the other side. 

With the light in Peter’s room, he gets a detailed look at the man. Striking blue eyes stare down at him, looking bored. Peter feels like a bug under his gaze. He squirmed restlessly, and decided then and there he fucking hated blue eyes. This guy wears his like an alien. 

On the left side of Deep Voice’s face is a scar, but it takes over from his hairline to the corner of his lips. It looks like a million cracks running along his skin. Like he’s made out of glass on that part of his face and it’s fracturing. Peter stares at it for a moment before Deep Voice enters the room fully, and shuts the door. 

Huh.

Aren’t they trapped in here together, then?

Well. Peter’s sense warns him no , they aren’t trapped together. He’s trapped with Deep Voice. Not good . 

“Good afternoon, Peter,” The man says, voice sounding like he’s been gargling with fucking marbles and razor blades. 

But, Peter now knows it's afternoon! Neat!

He doesn’t speak, already understanding he’s not really supposed to. 

Deep Voice takes another step, so that he’s looming over Peter where he sits on the bed, forcing him to look straight up at the man. “Did you know you’re quite special?”

Oh, yeah, Peter feels so fucking special. He’s been stuck inside a room he can reach out and touch the other side of for who knows how fucking long, and been drugged for even longer, but sure he’s special. Dirt houses in Minecraft are better accommodations than this!

“You’re stronger than the others, boy. Neither of them would have survived Marrow’s strike through the neck. I was quite impressed with that.”

Fantastic. Peter had the amazing honor of being speared through the throat and that was impressive . This guy sucks. 

“Would you like to take a walk with me?”

N to the fucking O, assface!

… He doesn’t say that, obviously. 

Instead, he sighs, nods, and stands. Deep Voice gives him an approving look, which makes Peter let out an involuntary noise from the back of his throat. What the hell was that? It sounded like he fucking hissed at the man!

Deep Voice didn’t even seem fazed, just turned toward the door. It opened for him, which Peter finds fucking rude, and they walked out together. He looked around immediately, but didn’t spy Marrow or any little nerds running around. This room is big, with computers and other random shit in it. There’s a double door to his right, and something inside him tells him to run for it. 

Deep Voice must sense it, because he places a firm hand on his shoulder and leads him away. There’s an open door straight in front of them, showing off a metal table, with a familiar looking light hanging above it. 

Oh.

That’s where he was before, when he first woke up.

Deep Voice takes him away from that as well, leading him toward a door that requires the man to wave a card by a scanner in order to open. It opens to reveal a hallway, dimly lit and empty. They begin walking, with Peter’s head on a swivel the entire time.

“I’m sure you have many questions, Peter.”

Fucking say that again, loser. 

“Now is your chance to ask them, boy.”

Boy . Peter does not fucking like that. He thought he didn’t like when Tony called him kid during a lecture, but boy is way worse. 

“Where are we?” Peter asks, glancing up at the man. 

Also, how fucking tall is this guy? Peter’s not exactly tall for his age, but he’s also not this damn short. Unless the fool is eight feet tall.

Oh my god, what if he’s eight feet tall?!

“An old base. Marrow and I found it.”

Wow, what a detailed answer, Peter thinks, rolling his eyes. His sense blared for a half second before a hand swung, backhanding him into the wall. Peter collapses, mostly in shock, but also because whatever they’re lacing his food with is keeping his powers locked fucking down. He rights himself, hand pressed to his bleeding nose, shifting wild eyes up to Deep Voice.

The man’s lips are curled, and his blue eyes look murderous, “Do not roll your eyes at me, boy.”

All Peter can do is nod, even though he’d really rather beat the shit out of this guy. The man seems pleased, and they start walking again. Peter waits a minute before asking another question, “Why am I here?”

“Marrow wants you,” He says simply, “And I like things to play with.”

… Peter thinks he needs to find a trusted adult, stat . He sniffs, the action only just causing a twinge in his nose, and when he checks it with the back of his hand, he finds the bleeding has stopped. 

“Why does she want me?”

They make it to the cavernous room, and Peter gets to the waters up close. They’re eerily still, and a vibrant green that makes Peter want to run away from them. Deep Voice has them walk to the very edge of the waters before he answers, “She had you before. She’s lost you a few times now, but she keeps trying. She’ll learn someday.”

Peter thinks that’s a threat, to be honest. He had thought there were other spider people around , but now he thinks they had other spider people before him. Marrow seems on the edge of crazy, teetering dangerously. One wrong comment, apparently, and you get speared through the neck. Is that what she did to the others? Over and over again until Peter got drug into this. 

“What are the waters?” He asks, making sure he’s standing a good distance away, even though Deep Voice obviously wants them really fucking close to it. The man turns, analytical eyes staring through him, “We don’t really know. They have healing properties, and can even bring a body back to life.”

A body. He didn’t say they could bring a person back to life, but a body. Peter’s body was thrown in. Without any hesitation, actually, they just chucked his ass in. He was healed by the waters. Sealed right up, as if there hadn’t been a gaping hole the size of a fist in his neck. When Peter had felt around his neck, he hadn’t even felt a scar. 

“How do you know it can bring a body back to life?” Peter whispered, already dreading the answer. It totally didn’t help that his sense gave a slight ping when he asked it. 

Deep Voice looked too happy to tell him, a smile covering his face that didn’t match his eyes, “Trial and error. You’re a bit of a scientist, aren’t you?”

CODE RED! CODE RED! CODE RED!

Peter hesitated for a moment, sense going crazy, but did eventually nod. The man’s hand on his shoulder grew stronger, fingers digging underneath his collarbone, “Scientists learn by experimentation. So, let’s experiment.”

All at once, the hand yanks him backwards, and there’s only a brief moment where Peter and Deep Voice are face to face, his feet dangling off the ground where Deep Voice holds him up by his neck, hands under his chin. Then he squeezes, and all Peter remembers is feeling and hearing his neck snap. 

He wakes up floating on top of the thick water, face barely sticking out of the surface , limbs hanging down. His vision is a little blurry, but he’s alive.

He’s alive.

No fucking way.

Peter starts thrashing then, body flailing as he tries to get out of the nasty fucking water. How is he alive? Deep Voice totally broke his neck, Peter fucking felt it. Heard it. The sound reverberated through his very being. And yet, he’s here. Breathing. Kicking. Panicking. 

He makes it to the edge, where him and Deep Voice stood, and rests on his hands and knees for a brief moment before his vision is filled with polished shoes. His head lifts up, eyes tracking, until they land on Deep Voice’s blue eyes. There’s a smile on his face, and this time it reaches his eyes. He’s pretty fucking pleased with himself. 

“I would deem this experiment a success. Wouldn’t you, Peter?”

All at once, Peter’s days start slipping away from him.

He can’t stop them, or focus on anything. It’s like somebody took the remote from him and clicked fast forward. The remaining days in that base start going faster and faster, with Peter more like a bystander than a participant. 

It goes faster and faster, blurring all around him, to the point where Peter can’t even see anything. It’s all flashes of light and words that send shivers up his spine.

It stops so suddenly that Peter gets a little nauseous. 

He’s no longer in the tiny room, but standing in the large room with the computers. It’s empty, like it was when he and Deep Voice came through. But… Emptier than empty. Before, the computers and the lights were on. There had even been coffee cups on the desks. Papers stacked nice and neat to the side. Now it’s just…

Empty.

No coffee cups. No papers.

Everything is very firmly turned off .

Peter twists in circles looking around and around, wondering what the fuck is going on. He stops when the doors fucking shoot open, whirling to watch as-

Red Hood!

It hits him like a brick fucking wall, and Peter nearly falls to his knees. He keeps himself up, and stumbles toward Red Hood, toward Jason. 

How could he forget Jason?! He hadn’t even thought about him the last few… However long he’s been here! Why? All he thought about was Tony finding him, of course Tony wasn’t going to find him! He’s in another universe, waiting for Constantine to come. 

Why did he forget that? How did he forget that?

Red Hood stands statue still in the doorway, and Peter finally makes it to him. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around the man’s middle, breathing in apples and gunpowder and gasoline. Jason doesn’t hug him back, but Peter doesn’t even realize how weird that is. He just holds onto the man, so fucking happy to see him.

“Can we go home, J- Red Hood?” Peter asks, voice wobbly, head pressed into Jason’s armored belly.

Peter had almost called him Jason! Thankfully he stopped himself, correcting his words so that he doesn’t accidentally out Jason’s vigilante persona. 

He pulls himself back, peering up at the red helmet. But Jason’s just looking straight ahead, unmoving. Peter’s face scrunches together, and he slowly lets go of the man, taking a half step back. The man doesn’t react, and if Peter listens closely, he doesn’t even hear a heartbeat. 

What?

“Hood?” Peter questions, legs feeling weak, “Are you okay?”

No answer. 

It’s like in Harry Potter when Hermione gets petrified. Jason’s been petrified, entirely frozen. Is it even Jason? It smells like Jason so it has to be Jason, Peter reasons. But why isn’t he moving? Why doesn’t he have a heartbeat?

He swallows, squeezing his eyes closed, before opening them. “Okay, this is okay, I can handle this,” He whispers to himself, trying for a pep talk.

Peter shakes his hands out, willing the numbing feeling to go away, and presses his hands firmly against Jason’s cold armored chest. He pushes, successfully unblocking the door Jason’s busted open, and looks around the very familiar alley.

Wait a minute.

Peter turns to look into the room he just exited, and his mind overlays a memory of a near pitch black room with the smell of blood and still bodies. This is where Peter came out of the jello. 

This is where the Morlocks had him.

Marrow and Deep Voice are Morlocks?

“Hood, let’s go,” Peter demands, sticking to Jason’s gloved hand and dragging him toward the motorcycle. He thanks everything that despite the statue-still way Jason’s standing, he is easily dragged by Peter.

He doesn’t know why he’s here, how he got back here, but he’s not fucking staying. Peter thinks he remembers the way to the manor. He’ll drive the bike with one hand and hold onto Jason with the other, he decides. Bruce and Tim can help Jason far better than Peter can. 

He’s trying to get Jason on the bike when he feels pressure at his middle. Looking down, he sees a bone spear sticking through him, successfully hole punching him. He blinks a few times, watches the blood pouring out of him, and turns his head around to see Marrow’s black eyes staring at him.

“I brought you here, Peter,” She whispers, but it sounds like screaming with how high Peter’s senses are dialed. “I brought you here, and you decide to leave me ? Either you stay with me, sweet spider, or I try again.”

Try… Again?

Peter’s head is light, and he feels himself slipping. His hands unstick from Jason, and the man tumbles off the bike, crashing to the ground. He’s woozy, and when he tries to say something all that comes out is blood. 

His vision goes dark, but he hears Deep Voice. Feels his hands on him as the man maneuvers him around, and then hears him as he says, “ Take him to the waters .”

Peter realizes he’s awake slowly. His body coming online, eyes sliding open, and ears picking up steady heartbeats near him. He turns over onto his back, watches the bat signal above him, and breathes through his nostrils. 

“What the fuck was that?” He whispers to the empty room.

His nightmares are never like that. Never… So detailed. He’s understood that his nightmares are a mixture of memory and his fears. But everything’s been a little vague. The memory easily blends into the fear, and he wakes up quickly after. But this…

Peter knows the end, with Jason, that was all an actual bad dream. 

But everything before?

That was real.

He can feel it, in his gut, that was all real. 

Marrow and Deep Voice. 

Oh shit… Marrow has red hair, and the woman the others saw had red hair! And the bones growing out of her! Fucking shit. Wait, is Deep Voice Mikhail ?

Holy fuck!

Peter throws himself up in bed, so hard he hears his tablet clatter to the floor. He doesn’t care. Not like Tim paid for it! Rich boy literally got it handed to him.

He shoves the blankets off of him, setting his feet on the floor, getting ready to get up and find Jason when it hits him just how fucking stupid he is.

Jason’s not here.

He’s out, fucking looking for Marrow and Mikhail! Fuckity fuck fuck, Peter yells in his mind, throwing open his bedroom door and taking one large step to get him in front of Damian’s door. Peter’s about to kick the door open when he hesitates, hearing the boy’s soft and calm heartbeat, the deep breaths. He’s dead asleep, Peter thinks, does he really want to wake him up for this?

But he said if Peter needed him he’d be there!

Peter definitely thinks he needs him.

He opens the door, quietly stepping in, not wanting to scare Damian awake. Heading for his bed, he lays one hand on the other’s shoulder, shaking him slightly, “Dami,” He whispers, cringing at himself.

But he sleeps on.

God, Peter wishes that were him.

Why can’t he just fucking sleep?!

Peter shakes him again, “Damian.”

Damian shuffles in bed, eyebrows scrunching together, and Peter figures one more time of shaking, paired with a, “C’mon, Dami,” Should do the trick.

And it does, because the boy blinks tired looking eyes open, finding Peter’s. He sits up, blanket slipping away from him, “Peter? What’s wrong?”

“I had a nightmare,” Peter starts, which has Damian nodding, sitting up even more, cutting Peter off, “I understand. Do you need to sleep in here?”

Huh? 

Peter shakes his head, frown on his face, “What? No! Listen, Dami,” Peter places both hands on Damian’s shoulders, forcing the boy to face him head on, “My nightmares are always memories. This one was about the Morlocks.”

That gets Damian’s attention, and he sits ramrod straight. “What about them?”

He takes a deep breath, not wanting to say but plowing through, “You guys talked about the red haired woman, right? Her name is Marrow. She called herself my mom , which, uh, fuck no. And the other guy, the one that wore a cape, his name is Mikhail? I know what he looks like!”

Damian has wide eyes, but he listens intently, eventually leaning over to his nightstand to turn the lamp on that sits there. He swallows, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes, and says, “What else?”

“Marrow cares about me, er, well,” Peter stutters, realizing Marrow doesn’t actually care about him , but actually, “She cares about this body. I think she’s the mom of the original. Maybe. Still unclear.”

Damian nods, standing in front of Peter, motioning with his hands for him to continue, “Those things that are growing out of her? Yeah, they’re her fucking bones, Dami! She controls them! Like, she can make them longer and thicker, and… Spear-like…” He trails off, hands going to his neck as he remembers being fucking impaled through the throat. 

“I am sure Grayson will hate that even more than he hated Thomas’s initial statement,” Damian mumbles, slipping on some shoes. 

Peter watches with a quirked brow, “Uh, what are you doing?”

“You should also put on shoes. I am sure after we tell father about this we will be going to the cave to speak with the others.”

Oh.

Okay.

Peter runs back to his room, sliding his feet into his sneakers without socks on, and runs back out, crashing into Damian in the hallway. They fall to the floor, and Peter offers Damian a sheepish grin while the boy just stares at him.

He jumps back up to his feet, offering a hand to Damian, hauling him back up. “To Bruce?” Peter asks, and at Damian’s nod, Peter drags him down the hall, straight for the door he can hear soft snores coming through.

They stop outside of it, and Peter waits for Damian to do all the work. After all, Bruce is his dad, not Peter’s. He’s not about to wake the man up in the middle of the night! Damian sighs through his nose, and then knocks rapidly on Bruce’s bedroom door, but without waiting any time, he opens it up immediately after. 

“Father,” Damian says, voice sounding too loud in the quietness of the manor. Bruce is awake before Damian even finishes speaking, which Peter finds so fucking weird, man, this guy must be the lightest sleeper in the world. 

“Damian?” Bruce says, already standing up from his bed, clocking Peter standing behind Damian, he then says, “Peter! What’s wrong? Are you both okay?”

Damian nods, once, “We are fine, father. Peter had a nightmare about the Morlocks. He knows their identities. Amongst other things, I assume.”

Oh, well, Peter really hopes he knows other things.

Might be kind of embarrassing if he doesn’t know other things, huh?

Bruce puts his own shoes on, walking toward them with a pinched-with-worry face, “Peter, are you alright?” He lays a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder. And Peter feels mighty weird about leaning into it. 

“Um, yeah, I am,” He lies, because he totally fucking isn’t alright, but that’s something he’s only going to admit to Jason.

Bruce nods, once, just like Damian, and says, “Let’s go to the cave. We’ll discuss this there.”

Peter and Damian back up, letting Bruce take the lead, and none of them speak as they make their way toward the office. Peter knows why he’s quiet, and it’s mostly because he’s absolutely fucking terrified of his nightmare slash memory dump slash trauma. But he has no idea why Bruce and Damian are so damn quiet. 

He kind of misses Tony’s ramblings at times like these.

But he really misses Jason.

“What time is it?” Peter asks, wondering if those that are out are close to returning. 

Bruce checks his watch as he continues walking steadily forward, “Nearly three.”

Spooky hour, a voice that sounds like Ned whispers in his head. He almost smiles, thinking of all the sleepovers him and Ned had where they’d both (somehow) wake up at three in the morning and scare the shit out of themselves. Probably didn’t help that MJ would always tell them the scariest stories while they were video chatting the night before. 

During Peter’s musing they’ve made it into the office (doors still kicked to fuck) and Bruce has already changed the hands of the clock so the door is opening. Peter sighs, already deciding he’s walked down this hall too many fucking times today. 

The elevator ride is not fast enough, especially with less than half of the adrenaline he had earlier in the day when he was in the elevator. 

When they make it to the batcomputer, Bruce wastes no time clicking away, and a line connects immediately to Babs, whose voice breaks the silence in the cave, “Batman, what’s going on?”

Right.

Vigilante names only right now.

Got it.

Bruce doesn’t even sit in the desk chair, just braces his hands on the desk and leans over it, eyes roving over the moving dots on a map of Gotham. Peter spies one with an RH inside the dot, understanding easily it’s Red Hood. 

“Spider remembered more intel about the Morlocks,” Bruce’s steady voice says.

There’s a beat of silence, before Peter can hear clicking on Babs’s side, “I’m opening comms up.”

A second later, “Say it again, Batman,” Babs demands. 

Bruce listens, which fascinates Peter, “Spider remembers more about the Morlocks.”

Jason’s voice cuts in first, and Peter hates how fucking happy he is to hear the man, “I’m heading back.”

Fuck yes! Peter wants to fist bump the air so hard, but one glance at Damian’s blank face has him totally not doing that. Instead, he mimics Damian, putting on a blank face and standing as straight as possible. 

“What does he remember?” Tim’s voice breaks through, and Peter looks around the map until he spots an RR in a moving dot, heading straight for the manor. 

Bruce looks over at Peter, and raises his eyebrows at him, which Peter understands is Bruce asking him if he wants to say now. He nods, walking a little closer to the desk, “I know the woman’s name,” He starts, “And what the man’s face looks like. The people you’ve been after, the ones that have been searching around the old safehouse.”

The dots all start moving back to the manor then, and Jason says, “I’m three minutes out.” Peter looks at the RH dot, and wonders how Jason can make it here in three minutes when he’s not even across the bridge yet. But after watching for a second more, he sees just how fucking fast Jason is moving, and wonders if he’s on a damn rocket. Is he going to crash into the cave? Should they take cover?

“Waking up Signal, we’ll be there in ten,” Steph’s voice says, and her dot takes a slight turn. 

“I’ll stay out,” Dick says, his dot stopping for a moment before turning back around to the way he was going before Peter spoke, “Finish the rounds. Be back at five.”

There’s a click, and Peter recognizes that as Dick shutting his comm off. Probably in an attempt to focus on patrol, not the incoming chaos that’s about to descend on the cave. 

Peter thinks Jason made it back to the cave in two minutes, but he wasn’t counting. His bike squeals to a stop on a circular platform a little ways away, and it barely has time to idle before Jason’s killing the engine. Peter doesn’t even see him knock the kickstand down before he’s nearly running toward Peter. 

Helmet still on.

He yanks Peter into a hug, a really fucking tight way, and whispers, “Are you okay, kid?”

Peter knows why he’s asking that. After all, his usual reaction after nightmares is pretty… Dramatic. But this was different. He had felt so detached from it already, like it didn’t matter. And maybe it didn’t. Peter already kind of knew that he was basically a lab rat for these weirdos the last three months, what did dreaming about it change? So he got to experience a few near death (and actual death) situations — who cares? Not Peter. Nope. He’s certified a-okay. Nobody’s more okay than him!

And yet he’s gripping onto Jason so fucking tight he hears the material of Jason’s leather jacket ripping. 

“‘M okay,” Peter mumbles into that armored chest, listening for a heartbeat that is very much there, thank fucking god . 

Steph and Duke show up minutes later. Steph goes to change into civilian clothes while Duke just rubs at his tired eyes. Peter feels bad, but he tries to remind himself that this wasn’t his choice. He just wanted to tell Damian, not alert the entire fucking family. That was all Bruce.

Asshole.

Jason takes the helmet off and drops it on the floor at their feet, uncaring about the loud clang sound it makes.

Cass appears like a whisper, opting to stay in her suit, crossing her arms over her chest. The only thing she takes off is the cowl, but she still looks so fucking intimidating. But Peter feels better when she looks at him, and gives him the smallest hint of a smile.

We care about you , her message had said. 

Peter can tell that they really fucking do. After all, if they didn’t give a shit, they wouldn’t be surrounding him in the cave at three in the morning, would they? The Avengers certainly wouldn’t be. Definitely not over a fucking nightmare, no matter what intel Peter claimed to have. 

“Her name’s Marrow,” Peter says when they’re all gathered.

Tim has taken the desk chair Bruce refused to sit at, Steph has her legs crossed sitting on the desk, Cass is leaning against it beside her, Duke is in the chair Jason was in earlier, Bruce is still brooding over the computers, and Jason and Damian are flanking Peter. Like bodyguards. Peter refuses to look any of them in the eye, opting instead to stare at his feet.

“The red head?” Tim clarifies, and Peter nods.

“Clever,” Duke murmurs, “Marrow since she has those bone things growing out of her. They are bones, right?”

Peter cringes, hating thinking about it, “Y-yeah,” he stutters, “They’re bones. She can control them. Like, make them grow out, make them long, make them sharp.”

Jason clocks the sharp comment immediately, but doesn’t say anything. 

“The man, I didn’t know his name, but he’s tall. Has a deep voice. He wasn’t wearing a cape or anything when I was with him but that fits his vibe, totally. He has a scar, like broken glass, over the left side of his face. He seemed… Close? With Marrow. So I figure he’s Mikhail.”

Steph hums, fingers tapping on the desk beneath her, “So Marrow and Mikhail. Two metas. One with freaky bone growing powers and the other with… What? What can Mikhail even do?”

Peter can tell she directed the question at Duke, who says, “I don’t know for sure. Whatever it is left a shit ton of residual power behind. And the cams… I’m pretty sure that’s all him.”

Babs speaks up, “It can’t be technical. You guys have gone over every place they’ve been multiple times, on different days. There’s nothing left behind, and it’s definitely not a signal jammer.”

“So he fucks with tech? Is that enough to leave behind power traces?” Tim asks, typing away, probably taking notes.

Duke grunts, “Nah. I mean, I don’t think so,” He sighs, “It feels like something else. Something more intense than just fucking with cameras.”

“What else, Peter?” Bruce prompts.

Jason had originally let Peter go after their hug, letting Peter stand on his own, but with Bruce’s push, Jason yanked Peter back into him. Their pose mimicked the one they held the first time they were in the cave. Peter standing in front of Jason, his back pressed to Jason’s front, Jason’s hands on his shoulders. 

“There were others there, scientists, I guess. They wrote the reports about my abilities, and about the abilities the others had. They also kept me drugged basically 24/7. Even after they stopped with the IV, they laced my food with something. I couldn’t ever tell what it was, but it dampened my powers from a ten to fucking three, I was essentially useless.”

Jason’s hands tightened on him, “Never useless,” He mumbled, but Peter heard it all the same. 

“Why keep you drugged?” Steph asked, and before Peter could answer, Duke did, “Uh, probably because Peter has enhanced strength and enhanced healing? Also enhanced speed. He’s basically a powerhouse.”

Peter totally preens at that, because he is a powerhouse, thank you very much. His abilities should be scary to others, because he goes through a great fucking deal when he’s Spider-Man to be friendly , so he’d like that to be noted. 

“Did you have any conversations with Marrow? Anything to let us know what she wants from you. With you,” Tim asks, eyes on the computer.

Peter swallowed roughly, sinking a little further into Jason, “Mikhail said she had me before. I think he meant the original. But he died, right? And she’s a little, uh, unhinged?” He cringes, thinking of her bones stabbing into him, “So, when the original died, I think she went after another one. And then he died so she did it again.”

“What’s in it for Mikhail?” Bruce asked, voice low, eyes narrowed.

Cass speaks, finally, “Together?”

Peter shakes his head, “No, I don’t think so. He said… Mikhail said that Marrow wants me and that he… Likes things to play with.”

All eyes on him then, and Peter shrinks in on himself. His sense isn’t pinging, obviously, but it doesn’t mean he wants all this attention. It’s a little suffocating. 

“Play how?” Cass asked, eyes so dark Peter wonders if she put in colored contacts when he wasn’t looking.

“He liked the pits, I think,” Peter whispers, “But he didn’t know what they were. Just that they could heal people and bring them back to life. He killed me and threw me in, like it was fun for him to see me die and come back. Well, okay, it was totally fun for him, he definitely enjoyed it.”

Mikhail and his stupid pleased fucking face. If Peter ever sees the guy again, he’s going to bite him so fucking hard. That’d be a real shock, huh? Bet they wouldn’t be expecting Peter and his newly developed fangs and venom!

“He killed you?” Damian asks, taking a half step closer.

Peter looks at him, seeing how narrowed his green eyes are, how white his knuckles are in his clenched fist. “Yeah, I think just the one time. It was fast, though, barely felt anything.”

“ Barely felt anything ,” Duke whispers, sounding horrified. 

Well, maybe not the total truth, but Peter was not about to tell them that he felt his neck snap and heard it echo throughout his entire body over and over again. He still feels like he can hear the snap bouncing off the cave walls. But Jason won’t want to hear that. And judging by the dark looks the others are sporting, he doesn’t think they want to either. So he very wisely keeps his mouth fucking shut, ignoring Duke’s comment.

“To summarize: we got a meta male, named Mikhail, with unknown abilities and psychopathic behaviors, who is also obsessed with the Lazarus pits. He is working with another meta, named Marrow, who can grow bones out of her body, and is obsessed with Peter. There are also various accomplices that are so far unaccounted for,” Tim says, glaring at the monitor as if it would somehow give him more answers.

“Not to mention we have no idea where any of these people are,” Babs says through the comm speakers, “We only know when they mess with the cameras, and by the time we get there, they’re gone.”

“Totally fucking with us,” Steph gripes, rolling her eyes.

Cass lays a hand on Steph’s knee, and says, “Not,” She eyes Peter, “They are searching.”

And a cold silence envelopes all of them. 

Peter knows she’s right. They brought him here for a reason, not for him to run off and play house with Jason and the other batties. But if that were the case, why did he wake up in the pits alone? Tim said the accomplices, the scientists, were unaccounted for. So who were the people that Jason fought in the base?

“Who did you kill?” Peter asked, tilting his head all the way back to look up at the man, “At the base. Who were those people?”

Jason slowly lowers his head, slightly glowing green eyes boring into his, and says, “Goons. They weren’t with the Morlocks, working with a different rogue.”

Very notably not telling Peter who this other rogue is, cool, whatever. 

“So what happened? If they want me back so bad, why’d they leave me?”

Duke offers up a theory first, “Maybe ya died? Like the others. And they tried to bring you back but maybe it didn’t work fast enough.”

Damian is shaking his head though before the man finishes, “That does not make sense. When the others died, they found someone new to put inside the body. If the pits were not bringing him back quickly enough, surely they would have simply found another to shove inside the body.”

The body . 

Peter tries not to think too hard about that phrase.

“Damian’s right,” Bruce says, turning away from the computers, “One dies, and they replace them. If Peter had died and was unable to be brought back, they would have replaced him.”

Yeah, just with a snap of their fingers, huh? Peter is pretty replaceable, he thinks. 

Bruce continues, “But they didn’t. Instead they left him in the pits, and then abandoned the base. Left for so long Joker became curious enough to send his own in there.”

Joker? That must be the rogue Jason was talking about. But why not just say that? Peter has no fucking idea who the Joker even is. Also what a stupid ass name. He better tell jokes as he causes chaos otherwise Peter’s going to sue him for false advertisement. 

Tim is pinching the bridge of his nose, jaw clenched. He speaks after a few seconds, “We’re just running in circles! We’re just fucking guessing about everything. Does it fucking matter?” He slams his hand to the desk, and Peter jumps, not expecting the sound. Jason’s arms scoot down, over his chest, holding him tight. Tim keeps going, “The only thing we know for sure is that they’re looking for Peter. They’re crawling around the Alley, so we should up our patrols around the area. They’re smart, obviously, but we’re smarter.”

Tim takes a deep breath, and Bruce claps him on the shoulder. They share a look, but don’t say anything. 

Cass is the one to break the silence, “Are we?”

“Are we what?” Tim says, eyebrows furrowed.

“Smarter. Are we?”

No one answers, but they all share uncomfortable looks. 

Peter hates uncomfortable looks.

“Well, I know I’m smarter than those assholes,” Peter says, “I’m also way fucking stronger. And they’re probably scared of me, to some extent, right? That’s why they kept me drugged. They knew I could rip them apart,” He pauses, letting a crazy grin take over his face as he thinks about his earlier idea of biting Mikhail, “And that was before I got fangs and venom. I run into them now? With no drugs in my system? Oh, I’m kicking ass, for sure.”

Damian matches Peter’s grin, hands twitching at his sides, “Yes. I like this idea.”

Bruce eyes them with wide eyes, “Neither of you will be going anywhere near these people,” He states, voice firm.

“Sure, father,” Damian huffs, but his eyes look like they’re planning something else.

Peter rolls his eyes, says, “You’re not my dad, old man.”

Jason’s entire body tenses, and Peter watches as the others flick their eyes up to Jason’s. The man says, “No, he’s not, kid, but…” He takes a deep breath, “You’re still not going near them.”

Peter’s about to argue when Jason covers his mouth with his hand, what the fuck! He says, “No arguments, Pete. These people want you, remember? You go after them, even if it is to kick their asses, they’re going to lay everything on the line to get you back. Including lives. Ya willing to kill those scientists in order to get away?”

Oh.

No, Peter isn’t. 

He’s mad at them, yes. So fucking angry he can’t even think sometimes, but… He doesn’t want to kill anybody. Doesn’t think he could live with himself if he did. And it’s not because he thinks they all deserve a second chance (or third or fourth or fifth), but because if he killed them, then he’s no better than them. 

And Peter is.

Better than them.

He’s smarter, stronger, faster, and a much better person than any of those assholes.

If he kills, then he loses his moral high ground, and he loves his moral high ground. He lords it over Deadpool any chance he gets. 

“I don’t kill,” Peter says after tearing Jason’s hand away from his mouth. He glares up at the man, but Jason simply stares at him. “I know you don’t,” He whispers, “But they strike me as the type that won’t hesitate to sacrifice people to get what they want.”

Sigh, why does every bad guy in Peter’s life value life so little?

What losers.

“Besides, you’re just gonna run out there in your Batman pj’s and take ‘em all on?” Duke says, eyes sparkling.

Peter gasps, looking down at his clothes, his black pyjama pants paired with his black pyjama shirt. There’s a bat logo on the front of his shirt, and tiny versions of it all over his pants. Peter picks at his clothes, and then glares at Duke, “I could kick your ass with my Batman pyjamas on. Wanna see?”

He’s too fast for Jason to stop as he shoots himself at Duke, tackling him to the floor. Duke yelps as they slam down together. Peter isn’t going to bite him or anything, but Duke looks fucking terrified as Peter bares his fangs at him. He knows Jason’s coming to get him, feels the twinge in his sense, and allows himself to be hauled up and off of Duke. Jason holds him up by the collar of his shirt, Peter’s feet dangling a few inches off the floor, “Bad spider.”

Peter kicks at Jason, who just laughs at him before depositing him on the ground. Steph acts like she’s going to help Duke up, but yells “Sike!” and jerks her hand back so Duke falls back down again. Damian even smiles at that, and Tim just rolls his eyes. Cass eventually pushes off the desk, and hauls Duke up to standing.

Duke whirls, leveling Peter with a very stern look, “That was mean!”

Peter shrugs, “Haven’t you heard from Jason? I’m an asshole.”

Jason snorts, ruffling his hair, and says, “Yeah, Duke, he’s an asshole.”

Bruce is just looking at them, something fond taking over his face as his lips twitch helplessly into a smile. The man blinks it away, and then says, “We should wrap this up. Peter and Damian need to get some more sleep, and Dick will be back soon.”

He’s about to argue that he most certainly does not need to go back to sleep (mostly because he doesn’t want to, afraid of having more dreams slash memories slash nightmares) when Jason starts dragging him toward the elevator. 

“Yeah, we’re all crashing here,” Steph says, following behind Jason and Peter with Duke and Cass at her sides. 

Tim stays very firmly planted in front of the batcomputer, with Bruce hovering behind him. Damian hesitates, obviously wanting to stay with his dad and Tim, but sighs forcefully as he turns and catches up with Peter. 

“Tim, go to bed,” He hears Bruce whisper, “I’ll fill Dick in on everything.”

The sound of Tim’s head shaking is what Peter hears as an answer before Tim says, “No way. There has to be more we’re missing. I’ll run through the reports again and then go back over everything else we talked about.”

The sounds of a desk chair being rolled back, and then Bruce says, “No, Tim. You need sleep in order to be most helpful.”

Peter doesn’t really like that Bruce basically said Tim has to go to sleep otherwise he’d be useless, but it must work on Tim, because the man sighs, and his footsteps start following the trail they just took to the elevator. Tim makes it just as they’re all entering the elevator, and he squeezes himself in, looking exhausted suddenly. 

It’s a quiet elevator ride up.

They walk the hallway, Damian sliding into his room with little fanfare, and the others walking further down to their own rooms. Duke and Tim go into their own, but Cass and Steph head into the same room. Peter stops in front of his door, looking over his shoulder at Jason.

“Where’s your room?”

Jason jerks a thumb toward where the others disappeared, “Down the way, near Dickie’s.”

Hm. Okay. 

Peter swings his door open, and Jason follows him inside. Now that he sees his bed, Peter does feel pretty tired. He flops down on the mattress, face down, and just sighs. Jason chuckles quietly, picking up Peter’s tablet from where it fell down earlier.

“Mind if I crash here, kid?”

Peter lifts his head from the blankets, sees how fucking awkward Jason looks, all hulking frame with his armor glinting in the light from the nightlight. He nods, slowly, and Jason smiles down at him.

“I’m gonna go change,” He says, heading back for the door, “Be back in a few.”

He leaves the door open, and Peter decides to just situate himself in bed. He finds his Red Hood, and holds it to himself while he waits for the real one. Jason appears a few minutes later, wearing sweats and a soft looking shirt. He shoves Peter over, so that Jason is the one nearest the now closed bedroom door, and lays down.

Both of them just lay on their backs, watching the bat signal for a couple of silent minutes before Peter rolls his eyes, and throws himself at Jason’s chest. The man wraps his arms around him easily.

“No more nightmares, please,” Peter whispers, sounding like a prayer.

He feels Jason hum, “No more nightmares.”

Chapter Text

A clap of thunder and a flash of lightning wake Peter a few hours later. His eyes fly open, going immediately to the window on the wall near the bed. The curtains are closed, but Peter can see the bolts of lightning cutting across the sky through the fabric. The thunder rattles Peter’s body, even though the house doesn’t move. 

Has it stormed at all since he’s been in Gotham?

He doesn’t think so. 

Peter rolls over, expecting to find Jason but freezing when he looks at the empty bed. He slaps his hand on Jason’s side of the bed, feeling the coldness of the sheets, realizing the man must’ve left a while ago.

Why didn’t Peter wake up?

Why didn’t Jason wake him up?

Where is Jason?

Peter feels his heartbeat speeding up, a hand at his neck reveals his pulse thumping rapidly, and he throws himself from the bed. He doesn’t bother for shoes, for his Robin or his Red Hood, just barrels out of his room, stumbling into the hallway. 

He pauses, hears no heartbeats on the floor he’s currently on and he actually starts hyperventilating. 

Peter knows, logically, that they’re probably downstairs. Unfortunately for him that logical part of his brain is the smallest part at this moment, and the blinding panic is the biggest. He barely remembers how to get downstairs, for some reason the only path he can think of being the one to the cave. 

Fucking breathe , Peter!

He attempts to, taking in large stuttering breaths, and puffing them out in a gasping way. It’s not… The best, but he regulates himself enough that he can focus on his hearing, not his panic. He closes his eyes, focusing on what he can hear, picturing the manor as a web.

Peter’s in the center, and the hallways around him are different silk strands branching off of him. He finds the cave, the hum of electricity, the fluttering of bat wings, and when he hears nothing else he pulls himself away from there. The gym is empty, the long gallery is empty, the game room is empty, the boring sitting room is empty.

How is this entire fucking house empty!

Peter’s hands fly to his hair, gripping and yanking, anger seeping out in a not so good way.

His eyes are still closed, and he keeps crawling along his web, entering the kitchen, and finally…

A room full of heartbeats.

He doesn’t care about the hummingbird one, the quiet one, the far-too-loud one, but he locks onto the steady beat that screams Jason . 

Eyes open, he fucking runs the path his mental web made up, not even taking the stairs in favor of fully jumping over the bannister and landing softly on his feet at the bottom. By the time he skids to the second set of stairs he has to take to get to the kitchen, he does the same thing, though instead of landing on his feet, he rolls forward so he can jump into a sprint. 

He hears talking, but he’s not paying any attention to what any of them are saying. Peter knows everyone is in there, even Babs, but he pays them all no mind as he busts through the doors, successfully silencing everyone. 

Peter locks onto Jason, who is standing near the counter, body half facing the doors but turns to face them fully when he sees Peter in the doorway. His eyebrows furrowed, as if confused why Peter nearly broke the doors down to get to him. Whatever, Peter thinks, and then he tackles Jason to the ground. 

They land with a thump , and Peter hears the air expel out of Jason’s body. Still, the man brings his arms up, wrapping them around Peter without a thought. Peter can feel his senses calming down, and he sighs as he falls into Jason’s chest, squeezing the man probably a bit too tight. 

“Good morning, kid,” Jason wheezes out, which prompts Peter to loosen his hold.

Just a little.

He makes sure to expand his setules out to stick to Jason’s shirt, just so Jason has to stay close, even after they get up. 

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” Peter mumbles into Jason’s chest, which gives him the perfect advantage of hearing Jason’s heart speed up. 

He also hears Steph and Dick cooing, a whispered, “ He’s so cute! ” shared between the two. Peter ignores them, like always. 

“I’m sorry, kid. Didn’t think I needed to be, ya know, I’m not usually in the same room when you wake up.”

And… True. Except, “That’s at home. This isn’t home,” Peter argues.

He continues to ignore Dick’s, “ He called it home! ” Comment, and instead focuses on staying firmly attached to Jason as the man hauls them up and off the kitchen floor. Jason kicks out a stool at the counter, sitting with a huff. Peter momentarily unsticks himself, and maneuvers around so he’s sitting with his legs over Jason’s. 

His new position lets him see the rest of the kitchen, and his entire body floods with heat as he sees all eyes on him. His sense had not told him that, either too preoccupied with Jason or… And this is the worse option… It already deems these people as trustworthy . Which is absolutely wild, considering it took his sense, like, months to stop tweaking when Tony would look at him or go to touch him casually. 

Weird, weird, weird. 

A clap of thunder causes Peter to jump, and he blames his earlier focus on his hearing for the fact the thunder seems so fucking loud. He covers his ears immediately, shoulders rising up in an attempt to create more of a buffer. 

Jason’s face screws up, “What’s wrong?”

More thunder, somehow even louder, and Peter starts shaking his head. He says, “Thunder,” but he thinks he might’ve yelled it, judging by the flinches of the others in the room. 

Whatever!

Damian understands him, thank god, moving forward into Peter’s vision, “Your hearing is enhanced, yes? I am sure thunder is not an enjoyable experience with increased hearing.”

Peter swallows, slowly lowering his hands as he realizes it’s been a minute without thunder. He hovers them over his ears, though, just in case. “It’s not usually this bad,” he mumbles, feeling so fucking stupid.

“What do you normally do during storms? In your universe,” Tim asks, holding a different flavor of soda in each hand, taking sips from both of them repeatedly. Peter watches for a minute, before answering, “I put my mask on. It blocks out sound.”

Tim nods, once, and then flees the kitchen so fast Peter wonders if he has meta abilities. 

When another thunderclap rolls through, and Peter’s hands cover his ears, Jason’s go on top, pressing down. It blocks out more sound than Peter’s alone, and he gives Jason a wonky smile in thanks.

Tim reenters the kitchen, sans one can of soda, instead holding a pair of headphones in his now free hand. When Jason sees them, he lowers his hands, pulls Peter’s down with his, and Tim easily places the headphones over Peter’s ears. 

It silences everything to a greater extent than their hands did, but not as much as his mask did. Still, when he hears the thunder roll through, it’s much more manageable. 

“Thank you, Tim,” Peter whispers, not wanting to yell like he did earlier. 

Tim smiles at him, which is quickly covered with the soda as he downs the rest of the can. After he throws it into the recycling bin, he says, “No problem, Peter. Ya can thank me by saying I’m your favorite uncle.”

Dick gasps, playfully shoving Tim’s shoulder, “No way! I’m his favorite, easy!”

Cass is smiling at them, and she rolls her eyes as she says, “Damian.”

That stops everybody, and Dick and Tim turn to look at Damian, who is still standing in front of Peter and Jason. 

“What?” Steph asks, head tilted. Cass sighs, pointing at Damian, “Damian,” and then at Peter, “Favorite.”

Dick gasps, again, hands flying to his cheeks as he says, “Oh my god! Dami is technically Peter’s uncle!”

“That’s not fair,” Tim says, “Peter already liked Robin before even meeting Damian. That’s gotta be, like, confirmation bias or something! That would never stand in a court of law, the jury would totally be dismissed.”

“Guess it’s a good thing this isn’t a court of law, then, huh, Timmy?” Babs says, rolling her eyes as she wheels over to the counter, toward Peter and Jason. “Have you read that book I gave ya, Peter? It’s so interesting.”

The book?

Oh!

“Uh, yeah. Dick read all about the origin of Gotham to me right before I went to bed. The two colonies with the missing colonists and trails of blood.”

Babs cuts her eyes to Dick immediately, “What the fuck? Why would you read that to him before bed?”

Dick holds both of his hands up, taking a small step back, “Listen, I recognize that it may have been a bit much!”

Jason snorts, the action causing Peter to bounce a bit. 

“Yeah, the problem was you didn’t realize until after, Dickie.”

Tim starts shaking his head, making a tsking sound as he claps Dick on the shoulder, “See, that’s just not favorite uncle material, man.”

“We already decided that I am the favorite uncle,” Damian states, giving Peter a small, secretive smile. It only widens when Dick and Tim start arguing. When Damian turns to face them, though, the smile drops, his going blank as he says, “There is no use in arguing about this. Peter has already chosen,” His green eyes turn sharp as he continues with, “And he has allowed me to use his webshooters. If that does not show who his favorite is, then I do not know what will.”

“Hey, wait a minute! I wanna use Peter’s webshooters!” Steph yells, shoving herself off the counter on the other side of the kitchen. She shoves herself between Tim and Dick, causing them to stumble. “Lemme use ‘em! Please, Peter?”

Before Peter can say anything, Damian speaks up, “Only favorite uncles can use them, Brown.”

And… Peter kind of likes that rule, so he smiles and nods along.

“No way, that’s a total foul, Dami! You’re corrupting the witness!” Tim says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Tim! This isn’t a courtroom!” Babs yells.

Before it can go any farther, Alfred simply holds up a single, white gloved hand, looking tired but content, “Breakfast is ready, please make your way to the dining room.”

And all the arguments continue as everyone slowly files out of the kitchen and into the dining room. Until all that’s left is Alfred, Bruce, Jason, and Peter. 

“Headphones still good?” Jason asks. 

Peter reaches up, tapping them with a finger, and whispers, “Yeah, good. Sorry for being a baby.”

“Not a baby,” Jason says firmly, “You have enhanced senses, kiddo, scientifically it makes sense that you’re sensitive to this typa stuff.”

Peter chews on his lip, but sighs, “Not what I meant.”

Jason waits, and Peter elaborates, “‘Bout the waking up thing. I dunno why I acted like that.”

It’s mumbled, but Jason hears him all the same. The man smiles down at him, all soft lines and even softer eyes, “Not a baby for that, either. Like ya said, it’s not home. You woke up in a new place and I wasn’t there, so I get it. I was the same way with…” He pauses, eyes shooting over to Bruce, “When I was a kid.”

Huh.

Peter’s going to skate right by that, and he thinks Jason really wants him to, considering the guy looks a little sick. Bruce walks forward, and stops a few feet away from them, “We can work on headphones for you, Peter, just like we talked about making something for your vision.”

Ugh, Bruce! What a loser!

Jason zeroes in on him fucking immediately, “What do you mean ‘your vision’?”

Peter tries for an innocent look, going for big eyes and a smile so big he can see his cheeks in his peripheral vision. Jason doesn’t buy it, the asshole. 

“Peter,” He says, sternly, and wow, okay, Jason totally has the dad look down. 

Not that Jason’s his dad! No way! Peter knows he’s not! Yeah, they’re all joking about being his uncles, but Peter knows it’s just that: jokes . Peter would never subject Jason to the curse of being his father figure, nuh huh, no way, no how.

“It doesn’t even matter,” Peter says, voice quiet, “Sometimes I get headaches-” Bruce covers his mouth with his hand as he fake coughs out a, “Migraines,” which earns him a very strong glare from Peter. He’s still glaring as he says, “Sometimes I get headaches , and dampening my vision helps a lot. My old mask would cut off my hearing and vision so I could… I don’t know, chill out.”

Jason blinks a few times, turning to face Bruce, “I’ll be there whenever you fuck around and make whatever you’re gonna make for him.”

Bruce nods, a hint of a smile on his face, “Of course, Jaylad. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With that, he takes off to the dining room. 

Peter stays put on Jason’s lap, already knowing the man is going to ask if he’s good or not. 

So he’s not surprised when Jason says, “Ya good?”

Peter even smiles a bit when the man asks. He nods, picking at the hem of his pyjama top, “Yeah, I am. Just… Weird. The storm messed me up, I think.”

Jason’s nodding his head as Peter speaks, “I get it. Gotham usually has a storm like this every other day, so you’ve got to experience a pretty unusual weather pattern lately. Bruce’ll work on those headphones and glasses for ya, though. Probably have ‘em done within the day, if you want ‘em that soon.”

Well… Peter wouldn’t mind better headphones. The ones Tim gave him are nice, but the loud thunder still rattles around in his brain, making his teeth hurt.

“Masters, I will be delivering breakfast soon,” Alfred interrupts, voice quiet. 

Jason hums in acknowledgment, and slowly slides Peter to a standing position. They walk into the dining room, taking the places they had on Sunday, and Alfred is right behind them with plates of food. The butler starts at Bruce’s head of the table, slowly working his way toward Jason’s, and when Alfred lays Peter’s plate in front of him he dutifully ignores the fact that his is piled far higher than everyone else’s. 

Hard to ignore when Jason reaches toward the shared plates in the middle, filled with toast and fruit, and starts piling even more onto Peter’s plate. He just sighs, falling back into his chair as he waits for Jason to finish. 

With his headphones on, it muffles out the barely there whispers that he can see Steph and Duke sharing, but it doesn’t stop him from scowling at them. 

“Done?” Peter asks petulantly, which Jason just rolls his eyes at.

Peter’s finally allowed to start eating, and he’s a little ashamed by how quickly his food starts disappearing. He didn’t think he was that hungry, but he probably used up for more energy than he normally does with the webslinging and then the midnight trip to the batcave. He probably should’ve had a snack when he woke up after his nightmare…

“Starved, Pete?” Dick asks, not making eye contact as he cuts into his eggs. Peter watches the yolk break and drool out onto the plate, and then tries not to gag. He hates runny yolk! Another “Dick sucks” point for the man. “Uh,” Peter says, forcing his eyes away from the snotty eggs Dick is eating, “I webbed around a lot last night. I probably should’ve ate something after.”

He says it to Dick only, but he should know by now that everyone at this fucking table is listening in, even Alfred! Who busts into the room with a second plate of sausage and scrambled eggs that he sets in front of Peter. The butler looks down at him, says, “I will prepare snacks for you to eat throughout the day,” and then he disappears into the kitchen.

“Why did you not say something last night, Peter?” Damian asks, face pinched as he stabs into his fruit aggressively. 

Peter hopes Damian isn’t picturing him as the strawberries he’s currently slaughtering. He swallows down his bite of toast, shrugs, “Didn’t think about it. Haven’t webbed around in a while.”

And it’s true. 

If Peter was in the other universe, he’d have paused his webbing around to pick up a churro or two (or five) or stopped in at Delmar’s for a sandwich. But he’s not, and he was so caught up with Damian he hadn’t even thought about it. 

“Hm,” Damian says, scowling, “I will remember next time.”

Peter perks up, “Next time?”

Finally, Damian looks at him, no longer scowling but now sporting a rather confused look, “Of course next time.”

He smiles, shoving enough grapes into his mouth that his cheeks puff out a bit, but Damian is still watching him. The boy says, “Did you not think there would be a next time?”

Grapes chewed and swallowed, he shrugs again (and judging by the twitch in Damian’s brow, he can guess that the boy doesn’t like his shrugging), “You seemed mad.”

Tim snorts, and when Peter looks over at him, he sees the man is mixing every single item on his plate into one giant amalgamation of… Something that doesn’t look appetizing. “Dami’s always mad, Peter. Nothing new with that.”

“I’m always mad, too!” Peter says cheerfully.

Jason laughs, “You and me both, kiddo.”

Peter starts shaking his head, correcting him, “You and me and Dami!”

Nobody says anything else for a minute, but when Peter looks around the table he sees Bruce wearing one of those “I love my kids” smiles that Peter’s only really seen on TV and on Ned’s dad, and Damian has a light blush that Peter can barely see on his tan cheeks. When Peter turns back to Jason, the man is smiling, big and wide, and softly says, “Yeah, you and me and Dami.”

Breakfast continues after that, and Peter feels pretty satisfied. He only jumps once when lightning strikes the ground outside the dining room windows, followed by the loudest clap of thunder Peter’s heard in his life. Jason knocks his knee into Peter’s, which helps him calm down enough to finish his food.

Peter’s back in his room, getting dressed for the day and doing all other things he probably should’ve done before fleeing his bedroom in a blind panic in his search for Jason. 

Which he’s trying not to think about, because how fucking embarrassing!

Instead, he holds two shirts in his hands, trying to decide between Green Lantern or Batman. He thinks he needs to go with Green Lantern, since he already wore his Batman pyjamas. With that decision, he finishes putting his clothes on, and opens the door just as Jason is about to knock.

He stands there, fist up, before letting it fall to his side.

“You were standing out here for a while,” Peter says, because even with his headphones (that are still firmly on), he had heard Jason’s heartbeat just idling in the hallway outside of his door. 

Jason's lips quirk up into a half smile, “Yeah, was letting ya get dressed.”

“‘M done now. What are we doing today?”

“Are you totally against going outside in the rain? It’s supposed to rain off and on the rest of the day but I have something we can do that’s not hanging at the manor all day.”

He doesn’t mind the rain, it’s the thunder he’s a bit of an anti about. Jason walks into Peter's room, heading straight for the closet and pulling out a sleek black jacket. When he tosses it at Peter, he doesn’t hesitate to slip his arms in, enjoying the soft lining inside. “We can go outside. What are we gonna do?”

Jason taps his finger against his Robin figure but doesn’t move to hand it to Peter. He does grab Peter’s chew necklace and drops it around Peter’s neck. 

“Ran into Ivy last night before shit went sideways,” Jason says, laying a hand on Peter’s shoulder and leading him into the hallway, “Told her I’d be bringing a baby spider by the gardens. Still wanna go?”

The gardens!

Peter feels himself start vibrating. 

“Yes, yes, yes, let’s go now! C’mon, you’re so slow!” Peter sticks to Jason’s wrist, and starts bodily dragging him down the hall. It’s fun, because Peter’s laughing and Jason’s smiling, but then it’s like his nightmare gets superimposed over reality, and he sees a motionless Red Hood with no heartbeat. Peter drops Jason’s arm like it burned him, wrapping his own arms around his middle as if attempting to hold his insides together. 

“Pete?” Jason calls, closing the gap so he’s standing toe to toe with Peter. “What happened?”

Peter shakes his head, and Jason thankfully lets it go, opting to just pull Peter into a hug that he doesn’t really reciprocate, since his arms are still wrapped around his own body. 

A few minutes later, Jason asks, “Wanna go?”

And Peter does!

He does!

Stupid fucking nightmare.

Stupid fucking Marrow and Mikhail and those other nerdy little scientists.

Stupid fucking Peter for thinking about those things.

“Yeah, wanna go.”

Jason detaches himself, and they restart their walk down the hall. Peter shoves his chew into his mouth, sinking his fangs into it over and over as they walk. Jason side eyes him, but doesn’t say anything.

They stop at the kitchen, where Alfred hands them a tote of food. The butler eyes them both, before stating, “I did not pack a lunch for the two of you, so I expect you to either return to the manor or stop for lunch, but under no circumstances shall I accept you skipping the meal. Am I understood, master Jason?”

Jason huffs, taking the tote from Alfred, “Yeah, I get it, Alfie. Don’t worry ‘bout us, we’ll eat, promise.”

And then he turns to Peter, smiling, “Pete still needs to collect all the bat toys from Bat Burger.”

Peter drops the chew from his mouth, “Not toys! They’re action figures!”

And judging by the look of success on Jason’s face, Peter thinks he just reacted in the exact way Jason wanted him to. Fucking loser. Peter returns to biting his chew, pretending it’s Jason’s arm. Jason gets it, especially considering Peter glares at the man the entire time. Jason tucks his arms closer to his body.

They leave the kitchen, with Jason keeping a few steps of distance between them, and make their way to the garage. Jason drops the tote into the backseat, and Peter doesn’t really hesitate before buckling himself in beside the tote. Jason smiles at him, settling into the driver's seat. 

Once they start going, Peter looks out the window, watching the trees go by. It’s only sprinkling now, with no lightning or thunder, so Peter carefully pulls his headphones off. He keeps them around his neck, just in case.

“Jason?” Peter says, finding Jason’s eyes in the rear view mirror. He hums to show he’s listening, so Peter continues, “Who is Ivy?”

“Technically, she’s a rogue,” Jason says, speeding along the bridge, “Don’t worry, she’s cool. Her name’s Poison Ivy, but just call her Ivy.”

Huh.

“She’s a rogue and she knows your real identity?”

Jason smiles, “Yeah. Like I said, she’s cool.”

It’s quiet for a minute, until Jason asks, “Do any of your rogues know your civilian identity?”

Peter mulls it over, thinking, before he says, “Yeah, one. Vulture knows I’m Peter because I took his daughter to a school dance. He threatened me when he dropped us off at the school.”

Jason’s silent, and when Peter looks at him, he sees his hands are gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white. Hm, perhaps Peter shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe he should’ve just shut the fuck up. But that’s not his strong suit. Like, ever. 

“What happened after? If I know you, and I feel like I do at this point, you didn’t take the threat in stride.”

Peter chuckles humorlessly, “Uh, no, I didn’t. Remember the building thing? Yeah, that was him.”

“Is he dead?”

What the fuck? “No, he’s not fucking dead! What kind of question is that?”

Jason doesn’t answer his freak out, instead he says, “He should be.”

Yeah… Peter’s going to leave that alone, he thinks. For once, he’s shutting the fuck up.

“What’d Tony do? About the building. Ya didn’t have your actual suit when it happened, right?”

Peter squirms in his seat, really fucking hating this conversation. “Tony doesn’t… He doesn’t know. I never told him.”

He can’t see Jason’s face, but he can see the side enough to see the man’s brows draw together. 

“Why not?”

“Um, I didn’t want him to feel bad?” He didn’t mean to say it like a question, but voice just naturally tilted up at the end. When Jason grunted, Peter continued, “He found me after. Not after the building, but after webbing up Vulture. He said I did good, and that… Felt pretty awesome. And then he gave me the suit back, and that felt even better. I didn’t wanna ruin it by talking about the building thing.”

“ Building thing ,” Jason whispers, and then louder says, “Were you afraid he’d take the suit back?”

Peter takes a deep breath, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a minute, “I mean, yeah. I’m always a little scared he’ll take the suit away. It is his after all, he made it.” He thinks on it a little more, adds on, “I helped with some stuff, for sure, but… He paid for it, I guess is more accurate.”

Jason’s nodding his head, signaling a turn with a flick of his fingers, “I get that, Pete. I really do. Money fucking sucks.”

Amen to that, Peter thinks bitterly. 

And then he thinks about what Jason means. With getting it. Has Bruce done something like that to the guy? Peter doesn’t like that thought at all. So he forces himself to stop thinking about it. There’s nothing he can do about it anyways. Jason and Bruce seem to be figuring their shit out on their own, so Peter shouldn’t interject his own petty emotions about something he doesn’t even know about.

When Jason parks the car, Peter unbuckles quickly, face pressed to the window. He sees a large building in the middle of what looks like a forest, glass dome shining from the rain drops smattering all over it. 

Everything is so green and colorful, and it feels so odd compared to the dreary grayness that is Gotham. 

“Wow,” Peter breathes out, spying bright yellow and purple flowers that seem to mark an entryway to the forest. 

“It’s pretty neat, huh? Ivy takes real good care of the place,” Jason says, opening his door and sliding out of the car. 

Peter follows quickly, bouncing on his feet as he waits for Jason to walk around to his side of the car. When he gets there, before Peter can take off, Jason grabs hold of his hand. Peter could totally slip away, but he doesn’t, instead just waiting for an explanation. 

It’s totally not because he likes holding Jason’s hand.

No way.

Not him.

“Gotta stay close. Ivy’s cool, but the plants are gonna move around a lot, and I don’t need to be searching for a spider in the middle of the fucking woods. Got it?”

Peter sighs, nodding, deciding not to roll his eyes as the man. In his other hand, Jason holds the tote bag from Alfred, and the reminder of food does make Peter realize he feels a little hungry. Jason follows his gaze, and then opens the bag for Peter to dig through. He finds a small baggie with two cookies inside, yanking one out to see it’s an oatmeal raisin cookie. He eats it quickly, which Jason wrinkles his nose at. 

“You actually like oatmeal raisin?”

Peter nods, licking the crumbs from his fingers as Jason starts leading him toward the pretty flowers. “Raisins kinda remind me of ants,” Peter says, grinning up at Jason when the man makes gagging sounds. 

“You’re such a weird kid,” The man mumbles as they get swallowed up by the trees. 

The temperature is noticeably lower, and the leaves are keeping the raindrops off of them. There’s moss growing up the tree trunks, and Peter can hear little legs crawling all around them. There’s bugs everywhere! 

He can’t stop himself from gasping, dragging Jason toward an orb-weaver web that’s shining from the rain that has made its way through. “Look at her, Jay!” He whispers, “She’s so pretty!”

And the spider is! She’s a spinybacked orb-weaver crawling slowly over her web, paying him and Jason no mind. She has six spikes jutting out from her, all black, with a pale yellow covering her middle. If Peter looks real close, which he obviously does, he can see black markings dotting up her middle, showing where her spine is. Peter wants to coo at her, similar to how Dick and Steph always coo at him.

“How do ya know it’s a girl?” Jason asks, not leaning close at all, in fact standing as far away from the spider as he can get while keeping hold of Peter’s hand.

Huh.

Is Jason afraid of spiders?

“She has a spine! See,” Peter says, pointing at the spider as if Jason was close enough to see the markings, “And she has big spikes. Boys don’t.”

Jason hums, tugging slightly on Peter’s hand, obviously signaling for them to keep walking. Peter wants to ignore him in favor of watching the spider make up her web, but he gives in, letting Jason move him along. 

He does turn around, waving with his free hand, “Bye, spider! See ya later!”

They walk deeper and deeper into the trees, and Peter wonders if they’re heading for the domed building he saw when they parked. He doesn’t really care, instead stopping Jason when he sees a centipede crawling along in the grass. 

“Look at it!” Peter says, “Just a baby!”

The centipede crawls a bit faster when Peter leans down to take a closer look, but it doesn’t skitter away too quickly, so he figures the little guy isn’t that scared of him. 

“Are you, like, a bug person or something?” Jason asks, again standing a whole yard away from him.

Peter eyes him out of the corner of his eyes, “I mean, I wouldn’t call myself that. Bugs are just cool.”

MJ liked bugs. 

Ned fucking hated them. Actually, thinking about it now, Ned and Jason would probably get along with the bug thing. They’d be standing multiple feet away while MJ and Peter fawned over the little creatures. Peter smiles at the idea of Ned hanging out with him and Jason. 

That’d be so cool.

But then reality sets in and he remembers Ned will never get to meet Jason. He sighs, standing up straight, and walking away from the centipede. Jason watches him for a minute, and Peter can see it on the man’s face as he thinks through whether to comment on Peter’s mood change or not. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t, and they continue their walk.

A dragonfly lands very carefully on Peter’s shoulder, and when he turns his head to look at it, the bug and Peter just stare at each other. He smiles, and the dragonfly takes off, flying around his head before landing again on Peter’s forehead. The spindly legs tickle, and Peter can’t stop himself from laughing.

Peter can see when Jason’s phone is held up, obviously taking a picture, but the guy apparently learned from before to turn his sound off, so no shutter sound makes itself known. 

Whatever, the man can have his stupid picture, who fucking cares.

The dragonfly takes off, making another lap around Peter’s head, before flying away from him. Peter watches until it disappears in between all the trees.

Jason stops them, dropping his hand while he hands Peter the second oatmeal raisin cookie. “Eat your ant cookie, weirdo.”

Peter does, making sure to smack with each bite of the cookie. It ends up with Jason glaring at him, but Peter doesn’t care. The cookie is good and irritating Jason is always fun. 

When they move to start walking again, Peter grabs Jason's hand, not making eye contact as he does. He can still see the man smiling. 

What a loser.

They’re almost to what Peter can tell is a clearing, with trees circling around tall grass and multicolored wildflowers, when a woman’s voice calls out for Jason at the same time that his sense pings.

Both of them stop walking, and Jason turns just slightly in the direction of the voice. Peter cranes around the man to see, and doesn’t know what he expects, but it isn’t a green woman with bright red hair. It’s not like Babs’s hair, but instead is like a vivid, firetruck red. She’s smiling at Jason, green eyes lighting up when she spies Peter peeking around Jason. 

“Is this your baby spider?” She asks, taking measured steps as she comes closer.

Jason nods, but doesn’t move from in front of Peter, “This is Peter. Peter, this is Ivy.”

He waves at her, “Nice to meet you, Ivy. I like your forest.”

Her laugh sounds like rain, “Thank you, Peter. It likes you too.”

Peter’s face scrunches up as he looks around at the trees and flowers, spying beetles and ants, seeing another spider, and even more dragonflies buzzing around. 

“How come it likes me?” Peter asks, head tilting to the side.

She’s standing directly in front of them now, and Peter can see her clothes are basically just moss. All over her. It’s covering her like she’s wearing a turtleneck shirt and pants. Peter likes it. He wants to wear moss clothes!

“Spiders are essential in nature, Peter, don’t you know? They are useful predators, and prey. A true sign of a balanced ecosystem is the presence of spiders. And the forest,” She smiles as she calls it a forest, and Peter wonders what she calls it instead, “Is happy to have a large spider like yourself.”

Yeah, Peter is totally preening.

Take that, Jason! He’s not a baby spider, he’s a large spider! Ha!

“Prey?” Jason asks, eyes narrowing. Ivy waves him away, “Oh, Jason, you know I mean no harm to him. It was a statement of fact: spiders are prey to other creatures. Such is the circle of life.”

Peter is nodding along, “In Guam, a non-native snake was introduced into the environment that ate, like, a ton of birds, which has led to the island having, like, forty times more spiders than the surrounding islands. Ya know, because the birds would normally eat the spiders.”

Ivy and Jason are quiet for a moment, before Ivy smiles, “Yes, there is a balance to everything. I didn’t know that about Guam, Peter, how interesting.”

He feels himself blush, and hopes Jason is still watching Ivy so he doesn’t see the red on Peter’s cheeks. 

“Uh, how can you tell that the forest likes me, Ivy?” Peter asks, thinking back to what she said. 

Ivy walks ahead of them, gesturing for them to follow her into the clearing, “It’s showing off. Can’t you tell?”

As if on cue, a few butterflies flutter around Peter’s face, and when they walk by the last few trees separating them from the tall grass, a praying mantis catches Peter’s eyes. He stops to look at it, smiling when it watches back. They move along, and Peter sees bees hovering around the flowers, and ants crawling around near their feet. He tries his best to step around them.

“Did you want to go to the main building, Jason?”

Jason nods, not minding where his feet land, “Yeah, figured Pete could see the original gardens.”

Ivy nods, and with a wave of her hand a path appears in front of them. Peter can see the building just a bit away. Has it been this close all along? Shouldn’t Peter be able to see the dome from here? He looks up, but only sees the tree tops. 

Interesting.

“Harley is somewhere in here,” Ivy says, “Hiding, as always.”

Ivy and Jason share a look, saying something that Peter doesn’t understand, and Jason nods, says, “We’ll keep an eye out. She alright with the kid?”

Oh! Peter’s the kid. 

Is Harley also technically a not so good person? Peter considers Ivy a good person, like he said before, she takes care of a garden (forest) and likes kids. If Harley’s here, maybe she helps take care of the garden (forest) and also likes kids.

“She’ll be fine,” Ivy placates, a smile taking over her face when she looks at Peter, “What’s not to enjoy? We all love spiders.”

Another blush, this one going all the way down his neck, and Jason totally clocks it. He doesn’t look at the man, but he can totally see the teasing smirk taking over his face, god, Peter’s fucked!

“Thanks, Ivy. See ya ‘round,” Jason says, waving at Ivy as they walk toward the path. Peter waves too, watching as the grass grows taller around her, flowers blooming despite the gloomy day. The blades of grass braid together, encasing Ivy completely. 

“So fucking cool,” Peter whispers in awe. 

Jason turns around to see what Peter’s talking about, smiling when he sees the cocoon Ivy’s buried in, “Yeah, she’s got some crazy abilities.”

Peter doesn’t think that adequately describes Ivy at all.

She’s easily the coolest person Peter’s ever met, in both universe’s. 

When Peter finally turns around, they’re almost to the building’s door, which is at least ten feet tall, made up of rust colored iron. It must be heavy, Peter thinks, just as roots start crawling along the ground ahead of them, winding up the door, twisting, turning.

The doors glide open, and the roots retreat back to their trees. 

Peter picks his jaw up off the ground, whispers another, “So fucking cool,” and they walk into the building. 

There’s a rectangular fountain pool taking up the entire center of the room, going on for at least thirty feet. The fountains are on, water spraying up and out, successfully watering the hundreds of flowers framing the shallow pool. Pink, red, blue, yellow, orange. It’s the most color Peter has seen since he’s been in Gotham, and it’s a little dizzying. 

There’s rusted benches lining each side of the pool, with large trees crawling up the walls and bending over the benches, as if trying to reach the fountain in the middle. 

Above them, in the center of the room, is the shining glass dome, showing off the dark grey clouds above them. There’s drops of rain hitting the glass, leaving water trails as they slide off and away. It makes a slight tinking sound that Peter finds he likes.

“This place is fucking awesome!” Peter declares, dropping Jason’s hand in favor of turning in slow circles as he takes in everything.

Above the doors they just entered is a gargoyle, big teeth and even bigger eyes staring down at them. Yeah, Peter thinks, that’s what makes this a Gotham botanical garden. 

“I love it here,” Peter says, smiling up at Jason, who’s been watching him silently this entire time.

The man gives him a half smile, “I said it was nice when Ivy had control.”

Peter doesn’t want to see this place when Ivy doesn’t take care of it. 

Jason goes to sit on one of the benches while Peter walks over to touch gently at the flower petals. Instead of enjoying the silence, Peter asks, “Who’s Harley?”

A sigh comes from the man, and when Peter glances at him, he sees a pinched look on Jason’s face where he’s resting his head on the tree behind the bench. 

“She’s… Hard to explain.”

Not an answer, but Peter guesses somebody being hard to explain would make it hard to answer a “who are they” question. “Is she nice?”

“Yeah, she can be.”

Again, not really an answer.

Jason’s really fucking good at dancing around his questions, Peter thinks.

“Do you like her?”

Jason groans, head falling forward into his hands, “Jesus, Pete,” he mumbles, but then says, “Sure, sometimes. Other times, I’d really rather pretend she doesn’t exist.”

Huh.

Interesting.

A ping has Peter straightening, wondering if Ivy was coming into the building. But he didn’t see her anywhere…

“Not so nice, birdie,” a voice says, bouncing along the water. 

Peter looks around, finally spotting a pale woman in the far corner of the room, hidden in the trees and shadows. She steps out when they lock eyes, and Peter can see not only is she ghostly pale, but her hair is almost the same shade. She looks like a ghost. 

Jason’s by his side in a second, but his heartbeat hasn’t changed. “Harley,” Jason greets in a monotone voice.

Harley comes closer once she gets Jason’s not-so-obvious approval, sporting a manic looking smile. She’s wearing a red and black body suit, with one leg red, the other black, and the opposite happening on her arms. She stops a few yards away from them, as if sensing coming closer may not be the bestest choice with Jason standing at his full height nearly right in front of Peter.

“Already seen Ives?” Harley asks, hands combing through her nearly translucent hair. 

Jason nods, “Earlier. She said you were out and about.”

Harley hums, gathering her hair up into the messiest ponytail Peter’s ever seen. Strands are falling out and framing around her face, some curling from the humidity in the room. 

“This is me,” She sing-songs, throwing her arms out to her side, “Out and about!”

Peter likes her.

And it helps that his sense is pretty quiet right now.

“Ives mentioned a wittle spider might be crawlin’ around,” Harley mock whispers, leaning over at the hips as if she was going to whisper it into Jason’s ear. The man rolls his eyes, stepping to the side about two inches so Peter and Harley can see each other better. 

She squeals, matching octaves with Dick, fingers making pinching motions, “I wasn’t expectin’ a baby!”