WARNINGS: slash. Mild language and violence. Referenced/implied child abuse and childhood sexual abuse.
Mr. Parsons didn't notice the figure creeping along the ceiling above him. He didn't notice it over his late night whiskey. He didn't notice it as he mumbled and grumbled, shuffling down the hallway.
But it noticed him. It had taken notice to him months ago, and tonight Mr. Parsons was going to get what was coming to him.
Natasha Romanoff laughing was a sight to behold and Bruce Banner's own laughter died away, amusement fading into awe as he sat back and watched her. He'd seen her smirk, had heard her snort, but actual laughter was unheard of. It was a quiet, breathy laugh that was both charming and sexy. She was a sexy woman, granted, and tonight she'd played up her good looks. Red curls were pinned back skillfully, a few silken strands hanging around her face and one straight down her back. Her black dress was low cut, cleavage temptingly on display, but Bruce was being a gentleman and keeping his gaze on her lovely face. And if more time was spent admiring her full, red lips, he could hardly be blamed.
There was a faint pink tinge to her cheeks and she bit the inside of her mouth, humming as she fought to control her laughter, humor still dancing in her green eyes. Shimmering green gems that slid to the window beside them, slender fingers plucking up the stem of her wineglass, gracefully swallowing the last drop. Bruce chuckled, grinning goofily as he gulped down his own.
"You didn't have to stop," he told her.
Natasha smirked, which was just as nice, and gently nudged him with her foot under the table.
Mr. Parsons's hand came to rest on a doorknob midway down the hall. The figure slid silently across the ceiling. Mr. Parsons waited, leaning in to press his ear to the door. The figure didn't need to be that close to hear the snoring from within. Mr. Parsons snickered and twisted the knob. "Ready or not, Calvin...Here I come."
The door opened and Mr. Parsons was slipping inside. The figure above him, meanwhile, was frantically pulling at his hands. "Oh man, oh man," he muttered. "Don't be stuck, don't be stuck, don't be st-"
The figure fell to the floor hard with a pitiful, "Omph...Ow!"
Bruce paid the bill and left a tip, shooting up and clumsily banging his hip into the table as he went around to grab Natasha's coat. Red lips curled up fondly as she gracefully slid out of her seat, letting him help her into her coat. "I'd give you the speech about my capabilities in regards to putting on a coat, but that is just darned sweet."
Bruce turned pink and his hand made an aborted movement upwards, as if to fiddle with his glasses or scratch the back of his head as he was prone to do. "I also know better," he said after a moment. "No one would ever accuse you of needing help."
"No, they wouldn't," Natasha agreed. "Not if they're as smart as you."
Bruce snorted. "They don't have to be that smart. Working brain is all it requires, really."
"Dr. Banner!" she exclaimed. "Are you gloating? I never thought you'd be anything other than absolutely humble."
"Not gloating," he smiled, keeping to her side as they walked out of the restaurant. "I can still acknowledge my own intelligence. I wouldn't call that arrogance."
"Good. The world can only handle one Tony Stark," she teased, sliding her hand into his. A brief expression of surprise and he gave her a squeeze, stride unhurried as they headed home.
Mr. Parsons had one hand over Calvin's mouth, straddling him on the bed when the door burst open. Mr. Parsons cursed, scrambling off the bed. Calvin shot up, shoving himself against the headboard, brown eyes big and round on the open door. A small figure in red and blue crawled in.
"What the ever loving - " Mr. Parsons said. "Thought I locked that door."
"You did," the figure assured him, hopping to his feet.
"What in carnation are you supposed to be?" demanded Mr. Parsons, scowling at him. "One of them hero wannabes. Hmmm? What do you think you're doing in my home, Mr. Hero? There are children here!"
"Yeah, there are," agreed the figure. "And Spider-Man is here to help. Them."
"Spider-Man?" Mr. Parsons demanded incredulously. Spider-Man and Calvin started at the loud noises Mr. Parsons made, at first thought to be angered wailing or horrified sobs, but in reality were body-shaking guffaws that brought tears to his eyes and reddened his face. "Spider-Man! What, son, you got a legion of creepy-crawlies you gonna send in after me?"
"No," Spider-Man said, shaking his head. "Just me."
"So you're not a ninja?" Bruce asked.
Natasha shook her head. "I've never actually had to play that role before. You think I could?"
"Oooh yeah," Bruce assured her. "You've never been inte-"
A loud bang sounded behind them, and they and the others sharing the sidewalk spun around to look. A door had busted off its hinges and a man was being thrown into the street, a costumed figure following him out.
Natasha sighed. "This was not the ending I'd hoped for, for our fist date."
Bruce was nodding, hesitating where he stood as she went to intervene. He doubted this would be a Code Green situation. The attacker was small and his costume was shabby. No weapons that Bruce could see, though he was throwing some sort of string with his hands. His brows furrowed as he watched, then, "Wait. What did you hope for?"
Natasha wasn't listening. Her foot connected with the back of the neck of the criminal who immediately collapsed. The victim was getting up, darting aside as a cab blared its horn at him, braking hard. Mr. Parsons waved at the cabbie as he hopped back onto the sidewalk, hands wringing at his chest. "Strong little bugger. Much obliged, ma'am!"
"Are you okay, sir?" Natasha asked, kneeling down beside the assailant. She was patting him down for weaponry, checking his pulse, never staying still or in one position, in case the man was only playing at being out.
"Fine, fine. Caught me by surprise, is all. Stronger than he looks, swear it," the man was muttering. "Damn Spider-Fella done broke my door!"
Natasha rolled the attacker onto his back, reaching for his mask. "Spider-Fella?"
"Spider-Man," called out a squeaky voice. Natasha glanced up to the doorway where several young boys stood. The youngest looked to be about five, the oldest sixteen. The speaker was probably ten, a little boy with wild blond curls and wire glasses.
"Spider-Man?" Bruce asked, walking through the growing crowd towards the boys. "What did he do?"
"He threw Mr. Parsons downstairs!" cried a six year old enthusiastically.
"Scary," muttered the five year old.
"Broke in trynna hurt my charges," Mr. Parsons accused.
"Nuh uh!" shouted the blond. Mr. Parsons shot him a quelling boy that turned the boy's face white. Bruce and Natasha exchanged a look, and the doctor was stepping closer to the children. They were all in their pajamas, nervously huddling closer together. The five year old ducked under the arms of the others and scurried back inside. The oldest stepped to the left, putting himself more to the front of the others.
"No? What's your name?"
The boy shook his head.
"This is Calvin." said the teenager. He was tall and chubby with big teeth and acne. His small gray eyes flitted around, muscles in his face twitching, limbs jerking as if half ready to grab the others and make a run for it. Bruce nodded at him, trying to look reassuring as he knelt down a few feet in front of the young boy.
"Okay, Calvin. If Spider-Man wasn't hurting you, what was he doing?"
Calvin shook his head again, vigorously now.
The sixteen year old looked warily at Mr. Parsons who was glowering at him. Bruce looked to the young man and waited until he had his attention. "What's your name?"
He gulped. "Uhh...Jeff. My name is Jeff."
"Okay, Jeff. Do you know what happened?"
"I didn't see anything," Jeff admitted. "But...Well, I think Mr. Parsons might have been hurting Calvin. And Spider-Man was trying to help."
"Why you little - " Mr. Parsons growled. "Lies! Always lying, that one. Bunch of orphaned boys...can hardly help it. Not to blame, not to blame at all, but with what brought them to me, well. What do you expect? The system just breeds little good-for-nothings."
Natasha was walking methodically towards Mr. Parsons who glanced at her uneasily. "Surely you know, they'd hardly let me watch after a bunch of young boys if there was any funny business! Mistake, all just a mistake. Tell them, Calvin. Tell them what Spider-Man was doing."
"Spider-Man was helping us!" Calvin spat out bravely. At Mr. Parsons's howl, Calvin shrank back, Jeff shoving him behind his taller body and moving down one of the steps, pale as his house-brothers, eyes dark and huge. He trembled, wearing fear and determination in equal measure.
"I was trying to save you, and this is how you repay me!" Mr. Parsons shouted. He crumpled to the ground as soon as he finished, Natasha standing behind him with a bland look. She quirked her eyebrows at the group of boys, resting her hands on her hips.
"Why don't we start from the beginning?"
Tony was cold. He was too tired to do anything about it. The movie he'd been watching was back at the menu screen, and he couldn't tell if he'd been asleep and was waking up or if he'd been this close to being asleep without ever actually getting there. Tony hummed and curled up a bit more into the couch cushions. It might have been a few minutes or a half hour, but in his world it was seconds before the coldness was fleeing and warmth surrounded him. A soft, thick blanket around him and smooth lips against his forehead. He wanted to grab him, tug him back, but his arms were too heavy. He tried to say his name instead, but his lips barely moved. "Sssssmmmmnnn."
Steve chuckled quietly. "Do you want to go to bed, Tony?"
"Nnnnmmmm."
Steve didn't say anything, but he understood. Steve was much better than a blanket as he leaned over, gracefully maneuvering himself onto the couch behind Tony. Strong arms slid around him, pulling him against a warm, hard chest. Tony whimpered when cool air was let in, but Steve was only moving the blanket enough to cover them both. Steve nuzzled beneath his ear, offering his jaw a chaste kiss. Tony was content and as he let out a sigh, fell asleep.
It couldn't have been much later that the lights overhead came on and the door was bursting open. It was only another few seconds to Tony. Steve was up before he could blink and all of the warmth of his husband and the blanket were gone and Tony rolled over right onto the floor. The shock got his heart racing, gears in his mind starting to turn. "Goddamn it," he muttered, grabbing the coffee table and pushing himself to his feet. He was dizzy and confused, blinking rapidly as Steve moved swiftly across the room.
"What happened?" Steve asked.
"Kid was attacked," Bruce said. He was carrying a bundle in his arms. A big bundle that had him moving slowly and awkwardly, hunched back beneath the weight.
"By who?"
"...Natasha," Bruce said. "To be fair, we thought he was the bad guy at first."
"Oh?"
"He was attacking...well...the actual bad guy," Bruce shook his head. "It's a long story, Steve. I'm going to take him to my lab, fix him up. And..."
"And?" prompted Steve.
"We need to figure out what to do with him," Bruce said. "He's...enhanced."
"Oh," Steve said. "Here." Tony rubbed his eyes, watching as his husband took the unconscious form from Bruce. Attack had done a fair job in bringing him back to Earth, enhanced waking him even still.
"Whoa, wait, what?" Tony said, joining them.
"How old is he, do you think?" Steve asked, frowning. "He's awfully small."
"I'm not sure. Here," he said, reaching for his mask, but Steve jerked his body to the side. Bruce shot him a questioning look. Tony moved closer to his husband.
"He clearly wants to keep his identity hidden, we should respect that," Steve said. "If he was helping, as you say, that's the least we can do."
"He was," Bruce sighed. "Natasha stayed back there. It was this man who runs a boy's home. He's been...abusing them, we think. She's waiting with the kids until the authorities show up."
"Oh man," Steve sighed and Tony was shaking his head.
"You think he was one of them? One of the kids in the home?" Tony asked.
"It would make sense," Bruce said, leading them off to the elevators and up to his laboratory. Once there, he cleared off the cot he usually used when he was working late and motioned towards it. The cot was a useful thing to have when Bruce had to turn his lab into a doctor's office. Steve set down Spider-Man and pulled up a chair beside him. Tony was rubbing his face again, blinking wearily at the scene. He stepped closer, studying the small body.
"He's skinny," Tony pointed out. "Probably made the outfit himself. What does he do? Something with spiders, right? Let me guess...He talks to spiders. He has a fondness for spiders. I wants to be a spider."
"Not sure," Bruce said, kneeling down beside the cot and checking his pulse, at his wrist and his neck. "We didn't see much, just him throwing the house manager down and throwing something at him. It looked like string, or wire. I didn't think to look at it, but I'll ask Natasha if she can bring some back with her." He reached for the mask, but Steve grabbed his wrist and shook his head.
"Steve, you can't be serious," Tony said.
"I won't take it all the way off, I just want to check the back of his neck and head," Bruce appeased. "That's where she hit him, and she hits pretty hard."
Steve considered him then let go, nodding. Bruce rolled up the mask to just beneath his nose and stuck his hand beneath his neck, feeling for bumps and breaks or other abnormalities. To get to the back of his head, he slid his hand beneath the mask and felt around, but kept to his word not to remove more than was necessary.
What they'd revealed of his face, his jaw and his mouth, was enough.
"Steve!" Tony cried, waving at the figure on the cot. He was young. Early teens, if that. Steve just shot him a look and shook his head. The way he sat in the chair told them how serious he was. He was settling in for the long haul, determined to keep watch over their young friend. Tony had seen that look on his husband enough to sigh in defeat, shuffling his feet moodily.
It was early in the morning, still dark, when Natasha returned to headquarters, marching towards the elevator when she heard voices in the kitchen. She redirected herself, creeping silently outside the doorway. Tony was muttering about Steve's stubbornness and she stepped silently in to join them. Neither noticed her until she poured herself a cup of coffee. Bruce jumped, sloshing water onto his shirt. Tony nearly fell off his barstool, caught himself, then groaned and dropped his head to the island counter.
"You're trying to give me a heart attack, Romanoff," Tony accused.
"Here's to hoping," she muttered. "How's the kid?"
"Unconscious, but I don't think there's any real damage. I'm surprised he hasn't roused, but I won't worry just yet," Bruce explained.
"Cap still guarding his virtue?" she asked.
"And his identity, yes," Tony muttered.
"Surprise, surprise," Natasha snorted. "He's more than likely from the group home. I'd put money on his being a minor."
"Oh, he is," Bruce assured her.
"So what does Steve think he's doing?" she demanded.
"Oh, you know. Playing hero," Tony sighed, gulping down the rest of his own coffee. "Did you bring us back any goodies?"
Natasha nodded and reached into her coat pocket, pulling out a plastic bag with the sticky string she'd picked from the street. Tony rubbed his hands together eagerly. "You boys are going to love this."
She pulled the string out with tweezers and set it on top of the bag on the counter. The men blinked at it. Bruce leaned in, straightening his glasses while Tony threw his head back, then just as quickly leaned in closer to it. Natasha watched and waited patiently as Bruce grabbed the tweezers, lifting the string and letting it fall back. Poking at it. Nudging it. Tony held up his phone, directing FRIDAY to do scans.
"It's webbing, isn't it?" Tony muttered. "It is. Spider. Man. Spider-Man. Spider-Man attacking perverts with his spiderwebs. Classy stuff."
Bruce carefully went about lowering the sample back into the bag, but an edge of it caught on the side of his finger, clinging. Bruce rubbed at the edge of the bag to shake it off. "I'll be damned."
"To the laboratory!" Tony announced, throwing his pointer finger into the air. "Mine, not yours. I can't work under Steve's stink eye."
Author's Note: This exists in some world somewhere between the comics and the movies. Obviously Peter Parker's backstory will differ. I'll be borrowing elements from movies and the comics (mostly movies), and coming up with my own and developing whatever works best. I hope you enjoy, please let me know how I'm doing!