Here's chapter 11. I really like how this story is going, and I hope to have many chapters to come. At least 15 total and an epilogue. You guys will love the epilogue, I promise. Be sure to keep reading because although things have been mostly focused on Peter's and Gwen's relationship and how it came to be again, things will get more action-y and more eventful. I'm really going to focus on the project and Stark/Peter's relationship in this chapter. If you haven't noticed by now, but there's still the Mary Jane thing and Peter's pretty pissed at Stark for holding back the information on the deal with Osborn from him.

But then there's always the Peter/Gwen cuteness, too. I never forget that.

Third person POV. AU. Post-movie.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to The Amazing Spider-Man.

Peter had to withhold himself from storming into Stark's office and demanding the whole story from him as soon as he and Gwen arrived at Stark Expo. He fidgeted over his work, looking up more than needed, tapping his pencil louder than necessary. As Peter sketched out his own design of the STD, Stark left his office to approach Gwen's desk. Although Gwen's desk isn't far from his, Peter couldn't hear a single word shared between the two of them. He'd have to ask Gwen about their exchange later.

He's putting the finishing touches on the sketch when Stark comes back out of his office. Stark stretches his arms over his head, yawning widely while his dark eyes rove over the lab, observing each scientist at their job. He's apparently satisfied with what he sees because he smiles and moves towards the display case that holds the high-tech cooler for his precious drinks. After he's been supplied with one, he moves from desk to desk to watch what everyone's working on. He reaches Peter's desk last.

"How's it coming along, Parker?" he grunts, taking the drawing out from underneath Peter's pencil. Peter bites the inside of his cheek. The last thing he wants to do is get on Stark's bad side; there is no possible way you can get what you want out of Stark if you are not on good terms with him.

"Fine."

"I see you upgraded the STD…that's gutsy, kid – but it might work."

"Thanks," Peter says quietly, picking at the cap of his pen. Stark looks at him from over the sketch.

"Anything new on how to work it?"

Peter's lips twitch down. Yes, as a matter of fact, he has, but he wants answers first. He wants Stark's side of the story. Even though he completely trusts Gwen in what she told him, he just needs to hear it from the source and from the source's point of view. Then he'll start giving Stark answers.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you," Peter says, getting up from his chair. He's a bit taller than Stark, but he feels maybe an inch tall as Stark stares him down with a leveled expression.

"Alright," he finally complies, and Peter exhales, realizing he had been holding his breath. Stark turns on his heel and starts for his office, Peter trailing along behind him. Gwen looks up from a notebook full of symbols and equations to watch them pass with wide, fearful eyes. Peter shakes his head at her. When Stark closes the door, he sits down, gesturing for Peter to do the same. Peter, however, ignores him and remains standing, fixing Stark with a glare.

"I want to know the truth behind all this," he says forcefully. Stark matches his glare.

"Behind all what?"

"The plan you made with Osborn 12 years ago. The reason why you decided to build this thing now and not years ago. I want to know before I help any further."

Stark is quiet, his eyes sizing up Peter. They come to a rest on the webbing devices situated on his wrists before wandering over to a sleek-looking weapon of some sort mounted to the wall.

"Why do you think you deserve to know these answers?" Stark challenges, his usual emotionless façade betraying him as the slightest hint of panic is exposed on his face. Peter smiles inwardly at the thought that he might actually be intimidating him – him, Tony Stark.

"This was my dad's project, and now it's mine. I should get to decide how the STD's used or not," says Peter confidently. Stark shifts in his seat and Peter can practically hear his mind whirring around while he scrambles for the answer he wants. When one doesn't come, though, Peter gives him a little push. "Why do you want to find those people so badly? I thought you worked alone."

Stark's eyes snap up from the ground to look at Peter sharply. "I thought so, too, but not everything goes the way you plan it."

Yeah, he knows the feeling. He didn't plan on being an orphan, but he couldn't help that from happening. He didn't plan on getting bitten by the spider, but he couldn't help that from happening, either. He didn't plan on falling in love with the chief of police's daughter, but look how that turned out. There is no organization at all. Living in the moment is the story of his life.

"Why, then?" Peter urges.

"It's not that easy to explain…"

"Try me."

Stark's eyes frost over for a moment, and the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stand up. So much for intimidating him. "Ask me when you have your own partner, then I'll tell you. But for now, let's just assume that those people are like your favorite pair of shoes. Old, a little annoying, but always there for you. You can't live without them, and now that they're gone, you're lost." Stark leans back in his chair. "And barefoot."

Peter blinks at him, then shakes his head. "Haven't you ever thought of the possibility that they might have left for a reason?"

Stark nods. "One of them did, but he didn't want to leave. It was mandatory that he was supposed to go; he's got a planet to look after. He suddenly just vanished one day without even saying good-bye, though. He's got a girl here," he adds absently, staring at a spot on the floor. "But the other guy…there was no way Rodgers just left in the middle of the night without a logical explanation. That's why I want this thing built: to get answers. When those two left, they didn't just hurt me." Seeing the expression on Peter's face, Stark scowls. "And yes, I have feelings. Not all of me is machine, you know."

It's silent for a moment as Stark remembers the day where two of his teammates weren't seated around the conference table like they should have been. He remembers the dead look in Bruce's eyes, the sad expression on Natasha's face, the deep lines creasing Clint's forehead… Stark finally focuses back in the present. He glances down at his desk, then back up at Peter.

"Now would you get out of my office and go work on the thing that'll give me answers since I gave you answers?"

Peter shakes his head stubbornly though he feels a little bad for doing so. "I'm not finished," he replies half-heartedly.

"What?' Stark snaps.

"You haven't answered me everything."

"What more do you want?"

"I know about Mary Jane, if that's even her real name."

Stark doesn't even blink. Instead, he rolls his eyes to the ceiling and makes a scoffing noise. "Good for you."

"Why do you have her following me?" Peter demands, coming to stand behind one of the visitor's chair and gripping the back of it.

"One," Stark begins in an annoyed voice, "you're new. Two, you're teenage kid that has a mind of his own. Three, I don't trust you. And four, you're a kid with special abilities. I'm pretty sure any scientist like me would want you followed…you're just lucky it's me and not government spies. Now there's some people that know how to track you." He snorts into his drink, allowing himself a quick smile.

Peter shakes his head at Stark's joke. "Well, can you lay off now? I'll just keep avoiding her and you won't have anything on me, then."

"Too late, I just made her sign a four month contract."

"What?"

"Get out of my office – I've got better things to do."

"But you-"

"Out."

"Ugh-"

Peter makes a cynical face before storming out of the office, muttering profanities at Stark under his breath. He slumps into his desk chair, fuming and short-tempered. Gwen catches his eye seated at her desk. He gives her an annoyed expression to symbolize what he's feeling and she smiles at him. "That's just how he is," she mouths, shrugging. Peter smiles painfully and Gwen chuckles. He turns off his desk light a little while later, mind resting on wondering about what Aunt May is cooking for dinner. Gwen meets him at the elevator after she held back a moment to ask Stark something. Once in the carriage speeding towards the lobby, Peter turns to her.

"What were you and Stark talking about earlier?"

Gwen's silent for a minute, and Peter wonders if she's pondering over the possibility of telling him the truth or not. She gives a heavy sigh, eventually, grabbing some gloves from her backpack.

"The same reason why I know so much about the deal."

A pause.

"Which is…?" he prods. Gwen is careful to slip each finger properly into the correct glove fingers before finally answering him. By the time she speaks again, they're already stepping out of the elevator and onto the main floor.

"My dad got Stark out of a tight spot a long time ago, and Stark's owed him ever since. When he heard that my father was dead, Stark came by and asked if I wanted a job with him since he was setting up a new headquarters here." Gwen shrugs. "I guess him and my dad were in touch because he knew that I had worked at OsCorp, and he thought that I was adept enough to handle the project alone. That's why he filled me in on what the project was supposed to be made for and what it's capable of doing. Since I was by myself, I needed some place to start."

Peter smiles wryly. "Do you know what Stark did?"

Gwen laughs, bringing her coat tighter around her as they step outside. "No, but it's fun to guess. I keep asking him but he won't tell me; he just pretends to go deaf and downs his drink so he can go get another one as an excuse to leave."

The rest of the walk to Gwen's apartment is spent making up wild stories about how Tony Stark got into trouble with the NYPD. When they reach the front entrance, both's sides hurt from too much laughing. Gwen exhales heavily, looking out at the street and watching the taxis and people go by. Peter can see the reflection of a streetlamp in her eyes. She turns to him, smiling softly.

"Thanks for walking me home again," she murmurs, moving towards him. Peter automatically brings a hand to her waist, just comforted at the feeling of having her near him, having her close enough to touch. Gwen places her hand in the crook of his elbow, securing herself to him.

"My pleasure."

"Mm."

"Just kiss already," the doorman grumbles from his position stationed near the door. Gwen laughs but it's cut off as Peter swoops in, silencing her with his lips. It's a short and sweet parting kiss, leaving the both of them in a tamed euphoria as she heads inside, smile lighting up her whole face, and he starts down the street, grin plastered to his lips.

Dinner's fresh out of the oven when Peter walks into the kitchen ten minutes later, sniffing the air and trying to keep from drooling. His stomach grumbles and Aunt May laughs at the sound of it, sprinkling some salt on top of the corn.

"Glad you're hungry, I made a lot."

"I'm starving; what's for dinner?" Peter asks, opening the fridge idly and taking out a small bottle of apple juice.

"Pork chops."

He makes a face while taking a swig of his juice.

"Don't worry, they aren't like last time's pork chops."

"Good. Hey, Aunt May…do you know what happened to the girl next door? If she turned out okay or not?" Peter asks, a sharp twinge in his shoulder reminding him of last night's events.

"I heard she was brought to the hospital. I think she went into shock or something like that…poor thing. It was a lucky thing Spider-Man was there."

Peter nods subconsciously, leaning against the counter while Aunt May moves about the kitchen around him. "Yeah, it was luck."

Dinner's a long one, and after the dishes are done, Aunt May insists Peter watch 'Wheel of Fortune' with her. "You're just so good at it," she says. "You make it more enjoyable than it really is." So Peter stretches out on the couch with Aunt May in the armchair next to him. She's knitting…something. When he asks what it is, she says it's a hat, but Peter thinks it looks more like a fuzzy gray garbage bag. He doesn't tell her this, but he just hopes the hat isn't for him.

After 'Wheel of Fortune' is finished, Peter whines at Aunt May that he's tired. She gives him a look, smiling slightly at him before nodding towards the stairs. He hops off of the couch, placing a swift kiss on her withered cheek before sprinting up the stairs and bursting into his room. He shuts the door softly and locks it. Peter tears off his clothes, careful to avoid his right shoulder that is still burning dully, then slides into his suit. He looks himself over once in the mirror, examining the rips, holes, and stains. Is spandex washable or dry-clean only? And – honestly – how is he going to patch that gash in the side of his suit from the spandex melting when he ran through that burning building?

He had a feeling the tailors would ask too many questions if he dropped it off there the next day.

Peter's perched on the edge of some building, about to jump in on a car chase below him when his phone buzzes. Fearing that Aunt May might be calling, he takes it out of his backpack, beadily examining the number before breathing a sigh relief. It's just a text from Gwen.

There's First Aid under my bed…just in case, bug boy

Peter smiles, sliding the phone back into his bag before lunging off of the building and diving through the air towards the ground. At the last minute, Peter shoots his wrist to the side, the biocable catching him right before he lands flat on the concrete. He rides through the air, keeping pace with the runaway Ford and two police cars. When he gets near enough, he cuts the biocable short and launches himself into the bed of the Ford pickup. The car swerves, the driver having jumped in his seat when he felt the impact Peter made with the car.

Go time, Peter thinks, crawling along the side of the truck. He peers in through the passenger window, trying to see the driver- The car suddenly lurches to the right, heading straight for the lane of traffic. Peter barely crawls to the top of the truck before being squashed between the truck and a bus ambling along next to them.

"You wanna play games? Okay, time for 'Sorry!'," Peter mutters, swinging his arm back and bringing it down quickly, his fist connecting with the driver's window and shattering it. Someone yells from inside the truck's cabin. "Whoops. My bad, didn't mean to break your car."

The man snarls and Peter raises an eyebrow, once again peering into the truck. The man's fist comes out of nowhere, getting him straight in the eye. There's a cracking sound as the lenses of his mask break.

"Seriously, man? Those were Oakley's!" Peter whines, ignoring the throbbing pain his left eye is enduring. Peter leans back a little, aiming his body correctly before using his arms to push himself into the truck's cabin. The driver leans out of the way just in time, causing Peter to fly past and collide with the passenger door. A little disoriented, Peter shoots a web at the driver's left hand, making it fly of the steering wheel and latch onto the car door. He does this to the other hand, then seizes the steering wheel himself. He kicks the driver's foot out of the way and works the gas, half of his body angled over the driver. The man bites down on the Peter's back suddenly, and Peter quickly elbows him in the nose, knocking the man out.

"Please tell me you weren't trying to give me a hickey."

Peter slows the truck to a stop, then climbs out of it. He wastes no time in waiting around for the police cars to catch up with him before shooting a web at the nearest building and swinging from the sight, the only sign that he was ever there being the webs holding the criminal hostage in the car.

Blood from the bite mark drips down his back, and there's a slight ringing in his ear, a sure sign for a possible concussion. As much as he likes going to Gwen's place, the reason is often times not a very good one, like this time. Exhaling heavily, Peter sets a new course for Gwen's apartment after grabbing his bag, wincing as the pain in his eye, his back, and his shoulder intensify with each new swing.

She has to say that it shocked her to see him outside on her fire escape maybe ten minutes after she texted him saying she was ready for any injury he threw her way. When she finally slide her window open, fingers fumbling as the surprise of him crouched there with blood dripping thickly down his back runs through her, she smiles at him breathlessly.

"You didn't just hurt yourself on purpose, did you?" she teases, giving him room to crawl through the window. His back is hunched over, but he's still taller than her, gazing down at her with sheepish yet amused eyes. One's almost swollen shut.

"Thought about it, but what's the point when you know it's coming for you anyway?" he replies back just as lightly even though she can see he's in a lot of pain. He's struggling to stand properly, and she sees he's cradling his shoulder. Joking aside, she helps Peter sit down on the floor, gently touching him where she thinks it hurts the least, according to his facial expressions.

Eyes closed means in pain. Eyes open means still intact.

"Where's the blood coming from?" she asks mostly to himself, but Peter laughs.

"My back, more towards my neck, I think." Peter leans forward, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his head atop one of them. With feather-light touches, Gwen slowly unzips his suit until she reaches halfway down his back. She suppresses a gasp when she sees the wound placed right in between his shoulder blades.

"Peter, did someone bite you?"

"Uh…" He sounds a little embarrassed. "Yeah…"

Gwen grabs the First Aid kit and takes out a gauze. She runs into the bathroom across the hall quickly, running the gauze under warm water. She comes back and starts dabbing at the bite marks oozing blood. They were incredibly deep, deeper than any bite she's seen.

"I think the guy's teeth must've been razor-sharp or something."

Gwen laughs softly. "It looks like it," she agrees, wiping the new and old blood from down his back. Peter gives an involuntary shiver, and Gwen's just thankful that he can't see her blush. When she's done all she can (coating the bite mark with Neosporin and placing a large bandage over it), she asks him where else he's hurting. At first, Peter's reluctant to tell her. She would probably overreact at the sight of his shoulder, and he's pretty sure he might throw up at the sight of it, to top it all off. After she threatens to punch every part of his body and see where he reacts the most, Peter groans and slides his arms out of the suit.

This time, she can't hold in her gasp.

"Peter," she murmurs, reverently touching the edge of the gash. He expects to feel pain, even at her weak touch, but he doesn't. He only feels the warmth from the tips of her fingers. "When did you get this?"

"Last night," he whispers, trying to crane his neck around to see her expression since she's sitting behind him.

"How?"

"A knife."

"It went in there really deep. Dammit, Peter, you should've come to me!" she cries out unexpectedly. Peter turns to face her, but she forces him back to his original position. "Stay put," she commands. "It'll make this easier."

"Make what easier?" he chokes out.

"This," Gwen replies, extracting a syringe full of a liquid, a needle, and thread. Peter shakes his head back and forth.

"Not that I don't trust you, but I think it's better if you don't come near me with a needle."

"Don't be a baby."

"Can I ask where you got the shot?"

Gwen gives him a look. "Where do you think, Peter?"

"Can we really trust Stark, though?"

"I can if it comes down to your well-being."

"That makes me feel so good," he says sarcastically, his whole body tensing as he feels the end of the needle pierce into the skin on his arm.

"Relax," Gwen says soothingly, placing a hand on his other shoulder while she injects the morphine into him. Just like he suspected, the morphine is no ordinary dose of morphine, obviously an upgrade of it made by Stark. The effect is instantaneous. His arm is soon numb enough where even fire could touch him and he wouldn't feel it. "Don't look if you don't want to," Gwen whispers. There's a slight tugging on his shoulder, but that's all he can feel.

She's silent as she works, and Peter counts her breaths until she's finished. She snips the thread with a resigned flourish, then groans softly. "Hey," Peter says gently. "It's the best you can do." She laughs and rests her forehead on top of his arm (which he can't feel, by the way).

"It's hideous."

"Okay, first, I don't go around the city without a shirt on. No one will see it. Second, I would've done a much worse job by myself, so don't feel guilty at all."

"Too late."

"Hey hey hey," Peter whispers, twisting his torso around to face her. Using his good arm, he reaches up to cup her face with his hand. "Thank you," he says softly. "Really." She closes her eyes and smiles and he can barely make out a faint blush creeping up her neck from the weak light of the streetlamps below. He leans forward, speechless to her beauty, his lips brushing tenderly against her delicate cheekbones. He slides his mouth over the bridge of her nose and then over her eyelashes, as if determined to have his lips memorize every inch of her perfect face, every facet of her smooth skin. She mumbles something incoherent, but he doesn't ask.

Finally, she tilts her chin up, capturing his lips' attention with her own. He moans softly into her mouth, pushing forward instinctively. Her hands slide up his bare back and glide over the bandage, coming to a rest on the back of his neck where her fingers tangle into his hair. He kisses her fervently, and she responds back with just as much enthusiasm. He pushes forward even farther, stumbling a little without the use of his other arm. She giggles softly against his lips once before her tongue pokes at his. Then he's ravaging the inside of her mouth so passionately he's sure Aunt May and Mrs. Stacy would be utterly horrified and disappointed.

A whimper escapes from her throat, causing goose bumps to erupt on his arms and back. She's everywhere, not just pressed so close to him it looks as if they were born like that, not just on his lips. She's in the air around him, filling his brain; he inhales her, and it's like he's getting high on her scent. The room's spinning like crazy, but he feels so grounded it's nearly impossible.

"Peter," she breathes when they break apart to catch their breath. Her eyes are dark – so very dark. Her breathing is ragged, and he takes pride in making it like that. He can practically hear the heavy thumping of her heart next to his.

'We've got a suspect moving East down 30th and fast. Possibly armed. Male, shoulder-length blonde hair. Red sweatshirt.'

The radio scanner makes the both of them jump. Gwen sighs, pushing herself up from the floor.

"You can't honestly go out there with your arm, right?" she asks, offering him her hand to help him up. Peter shakes his head, pulling on his mask.

"I have to," he says simply. Pulling up the mask just enough to show his mouth, Peter smiles at her and leans in to give her a quick peck. "Besides, the feeling's already coming back. My whole arm is tingling." And just as fast as he came, he leaves. Gwen sighs again, wondering if all nights would be as bi polar as this one.

There's chapter 11. Next chapter will be really good. A sneak preview will be a Peter&Gwen/Mary Jane confrontation, and some trouble goes down with the news people and Peter arriving home late one night. And Peter better pay more attention to Aunt May. And a certain letter's coming in the mail as Peter's birthday arrives.

But that's only next chapter!

Enjoy-

TeamSwiss737