So, I just watched Spider-Man: Homecoming for the first time and it was really good. I like the father/son relationship between Tony & Peter, and from there I kind of got carried away.

Anyhow, this is my take on how I kind of wish it had ended, starting from the ending fight scene. Peter POV

Please read & review

Not Quite Hero

Piercing pressure on his chest made him scream. Hands shooting out as they pulled and tugged uselessly at the claw digging deeper into his chest.

A metallic punch to his face had his ears ringing once again. Hands falling limp besides him and warm sand well up around him. Bleary eyes tried to take in the dark vulture like apparatus hovering above him.

The glowing eyes of the helmet staring down at him. Cold. Antipathetic. Just like the continuous punches-that he really should stop.

With a painful twist of his upper torso he stopped the incoming punch. Hearing more than seeing the metallic mechanisms whine and tear at the abrupt forced stop to the limb. Though, he had no time to consider it before he felt his grip being used to pull him up into the air. The sudden change causing his head to spin and blood to pool, hot and heavy, in his ears.

Frantically he lashed out. Superhuman strength bending metal in his fervor. Bruised body barely feeling the impact of a foot kicking harshly upon him.

Then he was dropping. Quickly. His senses trying to reorder themselves and his body twisted midair in hopes of landing on his feet. Instead there was only the feel of hot jagged metal tearing through his flimsy outfit and dragging a burning trail of pain down his ribs.

Without thinking he shot his string out, letting it pull him back up. Eyes and head clearing enough to allow him to swing up above the flying machine man and allow his sticky strings to try entangle the winged machinery. Once he was above it, he fell towards it with all his remaining power, trying to ground it.

Tired feet met metal back, and he was sliding, flailing uselessly to the ground with a heavy thud.

He didn't have the energy to cry out when metal claws were back. Digging deep and tearing at the jagged wound on his ribs.

Time passed as his mind fled him, eyes blanking out and ears ringing.

Sand and heat and the rhythmic pounding filtering through his sluggish senses.

He thought of Mr. Stark; of the judging stare and dark eyes that had looked so disappointed when he took his suit away from him. Thought of the man's anger at him endangering himself.

He wanted to gasp out and say he was sorry. Wishing for the ability to call the man; to just hear his voice. Something to ground him and tell him he had done alright, because right now, right now he felt more human than he had ever in his life.

More human than he had been when his parents had died.

More human than when the spider bit him.

With the raw fiery pain pulsing up his side and the heavy cottoned head, he felt greatly mortal. It scared him; made tired, heavy eyes wet. Warm thick tears sliding down sand covered face as he gasped up at his crush's dad. Somewhere behind the cold eyes and metal mask was a father. Fierce and burning with a desire to give a better life to his family.

That was more strength than he had right now.

More resilience than spider-man could muster.

Just like Mr. Stark had said: He truly was nothing without the suit the man had made. Just a child playing at being a hero.

Fear flared through his chest as he was lifted off the ground. Dangling vulnerably in the vulture's grip. Nothing happened though, and he was dropped back on the ground with a dull thud.

Warm burning sand crawling in through torn clothing and coating blood covered wounds. He'd never had someone drag sandpaper over him, but he was certain that this would be how it felt. How it would feel to have it dragged up and down over him each time he breathed.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow-motion as he laid there, gasping, watching the man who tried unsuccessfully to lift the heavy load that laid on the ground. He twisted and reached out his hand towards the man. Watching as wings sparked and lagged as they tried to lift the heavy load up into the air. "Your wingsuit… Your wingsuit's gonna explode."

With much determination he was able to shoot a string out. Catching on the heavy load that pulled him forward and up.

"Time to go home, Petes."

"I'm trying to save you," he gasped, pulling harder; straining tired muscles.

It was all unappreciated and his string was quickly cut, throwing him back to the ground.

Fear was thick in his throat as he curled in on himself and closed his eyes. The explosion that rocked the area filled him with adrenaline and helped chase the pain away.

He was up before he knew what he was doing, staggering into the flames. Letting them lick up his arms and legs.

"Mr. Toomes…"

The man laid limp under the heavy wreckage of his wingsuit.

With blurry vision and shaky limbs, he had somehow managed to tie the man down. Leaving a scrawled note, before limping away.

His enhanced healing unable to keep up with his heavy damaged body. His bleeding was the only thing that had stopped, other than that his bones still ached and his head felt heavy.

It was more out of habit that he found himself high up on a construction beam. His sticky web the only thing holding him up.

If he fell, he would probably die. He knew that, but that cautious part in him that usually yelled at him for doing stupid things was quiet. Blissfully quiet. Only the New York night breeze and the piercing sirens of emergency crew.

It lulled him slowly and gently into deep sleep.

—V—V—

"This is my fault." Floated into his dreams. A warm familiar voice. "I shouldn't have taken your suit. God, Kid, what have you done to yourself?"

"Mist'r…" Fingers twitched and his eyelids fluttered. "Stark."

"Yeah, I'm here, Kid." Cool fingers of a human hand stroked through his hair.

That was nice. Like… Really nice.

"Your plane…"

"You did good, Kid. Don't worry about it. Happy's taking care of it all."

That's good, he thought. Happy was good at taking care of things like that. Mr. Stark didn't delegate business very well. 'S why he had Ms. Potts and Happy.

His mind was drifting again. Pain had subsided and in its place a disoriented fever seemed to have taken over his body.

"-Hear me, Kid?" Mr. Stark's voice was more high pitched than usual. "Can you open your eyes?"

"Mr. Stark, sir, 's hot." No, that hadn't been what he wanted to say. He should open his eyes, but there was heat in them as well.

"We're gonna move you now, okay? So, yeah, I don't know, deep breaths maybe."

Strong arms, not Mr. Stark's he realized, slid under him. Gently pressing his legs and arms together and bringing him up into the air. Who?

It was only a crack he managed to get them open; to stare into bright blue calm eyes. He'd seen those eyes before, but not that face.

"Capt'n."

"Hey, kiddo."

Warm chest and warm arms, the pain was back, but so was also the heavy darkness.

—V—V—

He remembered coming to now and then. Remembered high pitched beeping and cool hands. There had been a frantic rushing in his ears as well, but that was all gone now.

Slowly he dragged open his eyes. The room was dark-thank God-and wide and spacious unlike his room with his aunt. Not hospital, his brain told him unhelpfully.

He was alone. Neither his eyes nor ears able to pick up any human signature around him.

Sitting up was out of the equation. When he had tried to push his elbows under him to host him up, a sharp pain shot through his ribcage and up into his skull. Whitening his vision.

"Ugh.."

Someone? Anyone?

Fingers spasmed in pain and his eyes prickled with tears that he refused to let fall.

"Good morning, Spider-Man." A quiet electronic voice floated out from the walls around him. "Mr. Banners is on his way as we speak. Would you like for me to call sir here as well?"

Not Karen kind of voice. "Who?"

"I am sirs personal assistant, you may call me FRIDAY."

"FRIDAY," he said quietly, staring blankly up at the dark ceiling.

"What can I do for you, Spider-Man?" Her voice had taken an expected air to it that made Peter huff lightly in amusement.

"I'm good."

"I doubt that very much. You've been unconscious for 32 hours and 36 minutes. You suffered severe concussion and due to three broken ribs suffered internal bleeding as well. Your left lung gave out and you had to be under incubation for the first 24 hours. You have heavy lacerations on both hands and feet, as well as slight swelling to-"

Right, so not good, he thought to himself. Eyes closing as he continued listening to the AI babble off more of his injuries. They were rather extensive. This was the first time his newly enhanced body had been unable to heal him as quickly as it usually did.

Doors slid open somewhere to his left and light footsteps stepped through. "Hey, FRIDAY, don't scare the kid too much. And call Tony, would you."

Peter rolled his head to the side, muscles feeling like they had liquefied.

He opened his mouth to say something, though only a soft whine came through. The man before him was someone he had only heard of. God, he'd even read the man's books. "I'd shake your hands, but I don't seem able to lift them."

Light huffy laughter and kind eyes took him in. "I'll shake your hand later if you want."

"I just want to say: I'm a huge fan. Like Huge." The words spilled from his lips before he could even try to contain them. "I read all your books. You're totally famous, and Ned, his my friend, he will be so jealous when I tell him I met you."

Hands pressed down against his ribcage and Peter realized he had no shirt on. "How about deep breaths for me?"

Right, injuries equals no shirt. Deep breaths. Okay, he can do that.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Fire. Ugh, maybe, Mr. Stark told me I did good. He's not good with praises you know." He'd even been petted on the head, which had been nice. Mr. Stark had been really nice. "Did I dream that?"

Firm hands turned his head and bright light shone into his eyes that made him flinch. "No. If what Cap told me is true, Tony did indeed praise you." The shining thingy stopped and brown deep eyes narrowed down at him. "Reckless but well done. You would be dead if you had any other body but this one. I don't know what you could have possibly tried to prove by going after a criminal all by yourself. You truly should thank your lucky stars you're not dead."

"S-sorry." Shame burned deep in his chest as he remembered another pair of brown disapproving eyes. "I'm really sorry."

"Sorry won't cut it, Kid. You are so grounded." Mr. Stark's silhouette stood shadowed in the open doorway. Those dark eyes trained only on him as he made his way in. Stopping once he could lean over Peter.

He flinched when a hand came up to his head; causing Mr. Stark to do the same.

"I'm angry," the man began, his hand gently lowering to lay, warm, against his forehead, "but that doesn't mean I would ever hurt you. Got that, Kid?"

He managed out a shaky yeah, eyes remaining fast on the man above him, ignoring Dr. Banner as he moved about him.

"You really did a number on yourself. I was terrified you wouldn't wake up." Sighing the man lowered himself into a chair, though his hand remained firm in Peter's hair. "Look, I took away your suit so that you would leave this mess to us, you know, adults. That doesn't mean go galvanizing out there in your little home-made outfit with no tracker or caller or anything."

"I'm really sorry."

"I know. So am I."

His hand shot up to grab a hold of Mr. Stark's which was still stroking his head lightly; ignoring the pain that tore through his side.

No, the man didn't understand. He didn't realize just how afraid he had been. How much he had wished he could have called.

"I'm really, really sorry." The prickling feel of tears came unbridled and he was unable to stop them as they rolled thick and heavy down his cheeks. "Really sorry."

The man's shoulders slouched and there was a pained look in his eyes. "Me too, Kid, me too."

The rest of the check up went quietly. Dr. Banner moved around quiet as a mouse. Touch soft and gentle as he moved limbs and pressed down on sore muscle.

"Healing's good. I had you hooked up on some nutritions which is helping the healing along." There was some clatter as he cleared out another chair and plumped down in it. "Your eyes are clearing already and most of the breaks have healed without any problems. You'll be sore, which you'll have to work through."

It was as if a thick ball unclogged from his throat and Peter could finally breathe in fresh air. "Thank you, Dr. Banner."

"As Tony said though, grounded is good. I'd say no strenuous activities for a while. Give yourself time to heal. Some injuries aren't always physical, you know?"

Licking his lips he met the other man's eyes nervously. "You think I'll have nightmares?"

The man rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned in with a serious air about him. "Something like that."

Swallowing, Peter took in the solemn air of the two men before nodding lightly. "Can I get up?"

"If you can. The worst is healed. Your ribs and lungs are fragile at the moment, so keep movement slow. Which means no climbing walls, no shooting webbing. Just rest."

Dr. Banner pushed back his chair and stretched. Nodding to Mr. Stark before he made his way out.

He stared at Mr. Stark with uncertain eyes. So many questions at the tip of his tongue. None which he wanted to say. Part of him really wished for his phone so he could just text or something. That was always easier. That way he could look away from those eyes. God, they were so judging.

He whined low in his throat and rolled his head away.

"I've prepared a room for you. Your aunt has also been contacted."

"Did you tell her?"

The harsh sigh and withdrawing hands made him flinch again, curling legs closer towards his torso. "No, but it was close. Geezus, kid, you stopped breathing! You know, I'm all for the hidden identity and all, 's cool, but this can't go on. Once you're good enough, we are having a long chat with your aunt. 'Tills then, you are grounded. There'll be no leaving Stark Compound, you hear?"

He nodded lightly, pushing through the pain to curl even tighter.

"Think you can stand?"

"No."

"Okay..."

Peter listened to the clothing that rustled behind him. Feeling how the air moved with the man. He thought maybe the man would get up and leave, but he remained where he was. Warm strong hands coming back to comb through his hair.

Just closing his eyes and sleeping was nice, and just forgetting that the whole previous day had happened. Maybe after that, he'd be able to muster up some spider-strength and look the man he admired so much in the face without wanting to cry.

"If you want to stay here for the night I can go get you some blankets or... you know, I'll go get Steve again. He's good with moving stuff around."

That made previous closed eyes snap open as he remembered staring into clear blue eyes. "Steve Rogers? As in Captain America?"

"That's right. You saw him just over a day ago."

Swallowing, he shuffled a little to the side. Wide eyes staring up at the billionaire. "You guys made up?"

The hands stopped and a pained grimace covered the elder's face. "Yeah, sure. Made up. If that's what it's called nowadays."

"I don't actually understand what you mean."

"Look, Kid. A lot happened. With the Avengers and so forth. What happened in Germany, things like that can't be forgotten so easily."

He pushed against the pain to roll over a little more. "Why's he here then?"

"Ah, I like you, Kid," the man chuckled, ruff hands carding through his hair. "Steve's just stubborn like that. He gets this kicked puppy dog look and honor is practically his first name. Once he gets this idea in his head that he wants to fix something, well he just won't let it be."

"He's staying here?"

"Yeah, he's staying here."

"And the others?"

The grimace was back. "Just some. You know, Bruce's good. He was gone for awhile, but he's back now."

"Mr. Stark, you know I'm a fan and it is a huge honor to be allowed to meet-"

"Thank you."

"Dr. Banner…"

"Right. Forgot. How could I? You're a huge fan boy." The man stood and turned around, fidgeting with something in his hands, eyes having that weird calculating look that they sometimes got. "Weren't you supposed to be a huge fan of Captain America."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I love Captain America. I grew up listening to stories about him, but, I mean, Bruce Banner is a genius."

"So am I."

"I read all his books. I even tried to replicate one of his theories-Though I failed. Should have seen that coming."

"I don't have books. Is that what I'm missing?

"Your suits are cool, though-"

"Uh-uh, no you don't, just no." Fingers that smelled strongly of oil and metal were pressed against his lips. "No off-handed compliments, Spider-Boy."

"Its-it's Spider-Man."

Yeah, that raised eyebrow was definitely judging. "Short stuff, can you move?"

With startled blinks he tried to move his body a little. Drawing in a deep breath and feeling it strain against tired ribs. "Ugh, a little. I'm feeling better. Think my healing has finally kicked in like normal."

"Good. You still want a lift or you think you can…?"

It was painful, but with a little help from Mr. Stark he was able to push himself up into a sitting position. Back unnaturally straight to keep from compressing in on delicate ribs.

His head swam and black dots covered most of his vision; tilting him back towards the bed.

"Help," he managed to gurgle out. Hands grasping on to the fine material of the older man's shirt, pulling it tight and dragging him down partially with his super-human strength.

"Okay, stop. I've got you. If you keep moving like that I won't be able to settle you back down. FRIDAY, call the captain here. We need some extra manpower."

"All ready done, sir. Shall I ask the doctor to return as well?"

"Nah, we're good. Just gonna get the kid settled into a better bed."

He had stopped pushing and pulling and just let the other man handle his weight, slight as it was. His breathing had escalated during their little adventure and it caught in short desperate gasps in his throat.

"Deep breaths," Mr. Stark said. His hand was placed warm against his chest, pushing down lightly to get him to draw in a deep breath. "Hold and count kid, you've got this."

"Shit, not feeling so good, Mr. Stark." His eyes had closed again and he tried forcing them open, only to be met with a spinning room. Ugh, no.

"Language. Your super healing is drawing on your metabolism, and as you haven't had anything to eat in a while, I'd say your blood sugar is rather low. No quick moments and the dizziness should go away."

"You guys doing okay?"

"Cap, nice timing. If you'd do the honors." The previous hands were replaced by ones that emitted a great deal of warmth. It sunk down into this bones and made him go limp in appreciation.

Cracking open one eye, he was greeted by the unmasked face of Captain America. "Hey, Captain, just wanted to say I'm sorry I stole your shield."

Captain America leaned forward, laughing as he scooped him up. "No problem. I was impressed."

"Really?" He was unable to keep out his disbelief as he stared up with star-lit eyes at the national hero.

"Yeah," the captain replied. Already moving out of the room. "How old are you anyways?"

"Fifteen." Okay, that look in his eyes could not be good. "You shouldn't blame Mr. Stark."

The strong jaw bone ticked as they were bit together. "I don't blame him."

Mr. Stark for his part just hummed next to them not making any move to defend himself. This topic seemed to be a rather sensitive one. One Peter wasn't 100% sure he should butt into.

The med bay was filled with high tech equipment, all which he really wanted to sink his hands into. He wanted to fiddle and take apart and see how it worked. The compound had enough weird technology in it that he barely had time to feel embarrassed over being carried by one of his heroes. Instead he was staring around, tilting his head left and right, and trying to see over strong biceps at the rooms they passed.

"You're gonna make yourself sick with dizziness if you keep that up, Kid," Mr. Stark commented. "You'll have plenty of time to take it all in later. You are after all grounded."

And wasn't that weird to think of, he thought. Being grounded by Iron Man. "You can't ground me."

"Yeah, you want to see if I can't?"

"Well, no. I mean, you're not my dad…"

Shifting arms forced his eyes to turn back to the man holding him. "Okay, enough of that. We're here anyways."

The room was spacious. Queen sized bed in the middle with a sturdy desk under a large window and tall bookcase. The room was painted in dark hues that soothed his over sensitive eyes.

"I-I can stay here?"

"You will stay here."

"Um, yeah, I can do that."

The captain settled him gently into the middle of the bed and Mr. Stark made his way around to the other side. Hands pulling down the duvet and quickly tucking him right back in the moment he'd been settled.

"We'll talk later, Kid. For now, sleep. I'll bring something protein rich up to you shortly. I want you to eat."

Captain nodded in agreement and straightened. "Your body's gone through the same kind of change as mine after the serum. So, you need plenty of protein and nutrients, otherwise you'll crash. Strong or not, your body will slowly give out on you. Don't skip meals, kiddo, it's not gonna turn out well for you from now on."

"Okay."

—V—V—

Time passed slowly for Peter while he was bedridden. It was boring and the only person to keep him company was Mr. Stark, who for the most part was busy doing conference calls.

It took him two days after waking up to be good enough to be up and about without any pain. Though his muscles remained slightly sore and stiff.

Dr. Banner had been by a few more times and told him to stretch. All which were new experiences for him as he had never been overly active before the bite, and after the bite, had never needed to do any stretching or training to keep in shape.

Now he could be found bending forward awkwardly trying to pull out his calf and thigh muscles. Hands on the floor and head almost as well.

"Are you trying to become a pretzel or something?"

He shot up, almost jumping right up on the ceiling, before he remembered the rules.

"Mr. Stark!"

"Oh, for crying out loud, just call me Tony or something." The man was leaning against his door frame, tired, dark circles under his eyes.

"Um...T-Tony," he managed to stutter out. Face flushing as he stared a hole down at the ground.

"Better. Now get dressed. Your aunts here."

"Aunt May?" he yelped.

"Do you have another aunt?" The man was already leaving, waving a lazy hand over his shoulder.

"Um… No."

"Get dressed."

Without thinking, he shot out a web at the closet door, trying to pull it open.

It didn't really work and ended up more or less locking the door fast. "Shit." He pulled at the handle unsuccessfully, scared that he might pull the handle off.

"Language," came floating through the still open door.

"Sorry, Mr. Stark. I mean, T-Tony."

Dressing was done frantically once he'd been able to tear the webbing away.

Happy had been kind enough to gathering his clothing from his aunts place, but he'd been too lazy to pack it away correctly, so it all laid out on the closet floor in strewn heaps.

He was tugging at his hair when he left, going out into the common area that he and mister… um… Tony shared.

So engrossed in it was he that he practically felt himself have a heart attack when his aunt launched herself at him. Throwing thin, wiry arms around his shoulders and pressing a bony nose into his collar bone.

"Hey, aunt May," he greeted her. His own arms coming down around her as he soaked in her familiar presence.

There was a wet warmness of tears gathering on his shirt and the usually sturdy shoulders shook slightly under his grip. "Peter Parker, you are in so much trouble," she said. Voice low and catching as a silent sob rose in her.

He threw a panicked look at the man who was standing by the couch with his head tilted.

The raised brow said he was on his own.

"I'm sorry, aunt May."

She just nodded and pressed closer.

After awhile she loosened her grip and moved back slightly. "You smell weird."

"Ugh, um…"

Tony was all of a sudden there and helping lead his aunt to the couch. "Oh, that would be his shampoo. See, we just moved into this compound here, and all there was for him to use was Pepper's shampoo-Which she so kindly let him borrow."

He met Tony's oh-so innocent eyes with his own narrowed ones. The man was a menace. He'd pushed that shampoo on him as a punishment. It was all flowery and girly and, oh God, Peter had somehow already managed to get used to it. A testament to how tired he must have been after waking up and taking in all that was Stark Compound.

"That's nice of her." His aunt had already managed to find herself a cup of tea and was cradling it in her hands.

He just ran an exasperated hand down his face.

Tony and aunt May were two people who should not be in the same room together. His aunt was naive and Tony was a childish prankster.

—V—V—

Even starting to tell her about spider-man took longer than he thought it would. They spend a long time just sitting on the couch sipping tea. His aunt checking him over and asking how he was doing. Tony for his part remained quiet. Arm thrown up on the couch's back just behind where he sat.

Finally his aunt seemed to have steeled herself enough to set her tea down. "So, tell me how exactly you ended up injured. There was something about a building collapsing on the news and also the plane crash. You weren't there, where you?"

Biting his lip nervously he turned to Tony for confirmation. The man, as always, was unhelpful. "I was."

"Oh, gosh. Was it the building? You where in the building. They said no one was there, but you where. Did you call Mr. Stark, is that how you got out?" She had barely stopped to breath in her hast to ask all her questions, only slowing down towards the end. "You don't seem hurt. Not a bruise on you."

"Yeah, about that. You see, aunt May, I heal really quickly."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "No you don't. Remember that time you tripped down the stairs and sprained your ankle. You couldn't walk for like over a month. It was so bad the doctors almost thought it was a break."

"Yeah, but that was then and this is now."

"I don't think I'm following."

Okay, time to go for it. Just say it, like you practiced in the mirror. Come on, Peter, you can do it, he told himself and leaned forward to grasp a hold of his aunt's hand. "I'm Spider-Man."

"Spider-Boy," Tony murmured sarcastically behind him.

He shot the man a dark look before looking back into his aunt's bright and, ugh, yeah, unbelieving eyes.

"Oh, honey. Did you get mugged?"

He shot back and almost tripped off the couch in his disbelief. "What? No."

She leaned forward with worried eyes, bringing up his hands into hers. "Are you being bullied?"

"Um… No."

"Then, is this a cry for attention? Did I do something wrong? Are you… Are you sleeping with someone?"

"Oh, God, stop!"

Tony had already fallen of the couch laughing. His hands pressed to his chest as he tried to contain himself.

Peter could just stand there, having sprung up off the couch; taking in the chaotic scene about him. His aunt and her honest, but unhelpful questions and Tony with his childish laughter.

"No, really, I'm Spider-Man. I can shot web and crawl on the ceiling and things."

She was still giving him that look.

"Did you bait him into saying this?" she wondered, turning her attention towards Tony.

"Oh, I wish I had. This is priceless. Hey, FRIDAY, you recording this?"

"Of course, sir, as with all rooms that have cameras this one is also being recorded on."

The man straightened some and pulled himself back on the couch. "Perfect."

"Aunt May, please ignore him." He knelt down in front of her, eyes pleading as he tried to make her believe him. "I really am Spider-Man. Please believe me."

"Kid, why don't you just show her what you can do."

Blinking, he nodded rapidly, standing up and stepping back some. "Okay, here goes," he said with a deep breath before flipping himself up onto the ceiling.

His aunt's reaction probably wouldn't have been better if he had seen it right-side up. She let out a rather pained wail before rolling her eyes up into her head and dropping like a sack to the side.

"Oh, no." He dropped down lightly by her side and grabbed a hold of lax shoulders.

"Oh, yes."

"Mr. Stark, you're not helping."

The man grunted and got up. "Tony."

—V—V—

Unsurprisingly, his aunt didn't take the news very well. Once she came to the wired look remained in her eyes as he tried to explain the rest. She left looking dazed, promising to be back the next day. She was going to bring over the school work he had missed. Happy had said he'd go get it, but his aunt had dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Saying she could handle something easy like that herself.

Peter was just happy for the quietness that had befallen the compound.

Tony remained in their common room replaying the event on his Stark phone, laughing quietly to himself. Finally, after a longtime, he grew tired of it and with a dismissive wave and comment headed for his labs. Allowing Peter the calm quietness he'd been looking forward to.

Peter glid down the couch in exhaustion and stared blankly up the high vaulted ceiling. FRIDAY's camera blinking brightly in the corner of the room.

After that, his aunt spent a lot of time with him that week. Sometimes she would ask about his spider-abilities, but mostly she just watched movies with him while Tony was out working. She didn't bring up his injuries again nor did she ask about how he had received them.

Captain America dropped by now and then, carrying food. Which had been a great surprise to learn about: that the national hero was a great chef.

The man never stayed long, but he always brought with him a certain calm that just seemed to settle everyone's nerves. Even though his aunt kept saying she'd already gotten over her surprise.

By the end of the week, though, his aunt had to return back to work and he himself had to go back to school. Apparently aunt May and Tony had conspired and made up some sort of family drama story that they had fed the school. Peter wasn't sure he even understood half of it, but Tony had promised no one would ask him any questions. Solid proof is what he had called it.

Returning to school was awkward. There was a depressed air that hung to the whole place. Ned was his usual self and chatted on next to him, but Liz wouldn't even look his way.

When he had finally managed to break away from Ned and corner Liz alone, she had given him such a sad look that he had almost backed away without saying anything.

"I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry, Liz," he managed to get out. Hands shaking by his side as he grasped ahold of his shirt with nervous fingers.

"Really? About what?" Eyes usually weren't that cold. The fact that they came from his crush was almost unbearable. Like, he totally right now just wanted to go and crawl back into that huge bed at the Stark Compound. "About homecoming? Or you know…"

Shifting in place, he brought his eyes up to hers. "About your dad." His voice was quiet and timid. Like going back to before the spider bite. When he had been just a nerd. Practically asthmatic in his inability to do sports. Just brains and no brawn.

"Yeah, well…" She looked tired he realized. Hidden behind cold eyes was just a lost teenager like himself. Neither of them were heroes and they were definitely not adults. Just smart kids trying to win first place in the Academic Decathlon. "We're moving now. Mom wants us far away from here for dad's trial."

She was walking passed him and it was like not being seen all over again.

"Wait." He reached out. Her smooth skin sliding into his hand. He had brought her to a stop, but what should he do? She stared at him expectantly. He could even make out Ned further down the hall making some sort of pushing gesture with his hands. "I know I haven't really been the best kind of friend."

She snorted and tugged on her hand. "Yeah, that's an understatement."

Throwing caution to the wind, he grasped her hand and turned it over, gliding his own lightly over it. He looked up into her eyes, cursing a little bit about her being taller than him. "For what it's worth though, I'm really, truly sorry."

When he pulled back, in the middle of a her palm was a small sticky web.

He turned and sprinted down the hall before she could say anything. Heart pounding and head buzzing.

"Oh, God, what did I do?" he muttered over and over to himself as he vaulted over the school fence and continued out into the city.

/Tsubasa