Hello again! Thank you for hanging around! (Apologies for the dreadful wordplay).

When Director Fury entered the room, even though Peter could not see the man at all from his seat, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck prick up obediently with his spider-powers.

Peter spun his chair around (oh, he loved spinny chairs), and:

"Romanoff. Stark. Parker and Stacy," the eye patched man said by way of greeting. His one eye gave an even more ferocious glare than Aunt May could when he left the milk out of the fridge for the day.

His gaze immediately settled on Peter.

I have the feeling this is distinctly not good, he told himself.

Not seeming to want to waste time with idle chit-chat and banter that could possibly have made Peter more comfortable with actually talking to this tall, menacing guy (his eyes zeroed in on where he was almost 1000% sure a gun was), the tall menacing guys said,"Parker, would you step outside? I need to speak with you."

"Um…" Peter gave a sideways glance at Gwen. "I'd prefer not. You're kinda intimidating."

"It wasn't a request," Fury insisted with a growl.

Peter's eyes widened. "Wow, okay. As long as you don't murder me or something. I have life insurance. Probably." He grabbed the crutches leaning against the conference table and hobbled to his feet.

Gwen tore through a sticky note slowly, her eyes never leaving Fury and Peter as they exited the room.

"If he touches Peter, I'll be the one killing people."

"I don't doubt it," Tony said casually, leaning over and yanking the sticky note pad from her hands. "Don't waste paper."

Peter turned around in time to see the door slide shut behind Fury. It was glass, and he could see the Avengers and Gwen watching them curiously. Gwen was shredding a single piece of paper while Stark stashed a note pad in his pocket.

"So… what did you want to talk about? Fandoms? Egg prices? Maybe the-" Peter was silenced as Fury came up right close, his angry, one-eyed glare thirty centimetres away. "Whoa, personal space, dude."

"That's an interesting cut on your head," Fury pointed out threateningly, ignoring his remark.

Peter crossed his eyes trying to look at said cut. He gave up after he realized he must look incredibly stupid. "Yeah. Crazy, right? Never expect a teenager to get a bit beaten up."

Fury took a step back. Phew. Personal space regained. "We had Spider-Man aboard this helicarrier after Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark brought him in."

"I think I missed the subject change."

"It doesn't matter. It just happens that Spider-Man had an identical cut on his forehead."

SHIT.

Peter forced his face to remain in the same neutral expression. "Are you suggesting that I am a voodoo doll or something that replicates Spider-Man's injuries? Wow. I am special. I can put that on my resume. Naw, I got it when some debris fell when Iron Man and Cap were grabbing Spider-Man."

"I don't have time for shit," Director Fury rumbled. "Ms Potts phoned us after she saw you leap out of a building after your young friend Miss Stacy. We've also had your blood analyzed, which has been most helpful. Spider-Man, are you willing to report to S.H.I.E.L.D. after every crime you foil, or will you join the team the Avengers? Or refuse my offers?"

Peter blanched. Fuck. Fuck. He tried to deny it. "You think I'm Spider-Man? Me? You realize who you're talking to, right?"

"Peter Benjamin Parker, son of scientists Richard and Mary Parker. Richard Parker developed the Oscorp spiders. S.H.I.E.L.D. attempted to use them when you first turned up as Spider-Man in the hopes of imitating the powers, but found that they were not compatible with any DNA other than Richard Parker's. So we found you, and kept an eye on you." Peter wondered if that was meant to be a joke, but Fury's one eye was terrifying and he thought maybe it wasn't worth the risk to ask.

"But I can't be, I can't even defend myself from bullies…" Peter weakly supplied in a last-ditch attempt to preserve his identity. It was a pretty poor one at that. Biological evidence. Visual evidence. It wasn't looking good.

"I have an agent working undercover at Midtown Science High, she noted your sudden athletic ability that seemed to turn up overnight. S.H.I.E.L.D. sends agents into most schools to seek out young people with great intellectual and physical talent to join S.H.I.E.L.D. You made the list pretty quick, but I had my suspicions."

Peter lowered his head, stared at the ground, contemplating what would happen if this mysterious agent was suddenly webbed to the roof of the school for a few days. "How long have you known? Or suspected, at least."

"Suspected since your uncle was killed. I was 100% sure around four minutes ago when the results came in."

His eyes widened. "Since Uncle Ben…?" He gaped. "But that was ages ago! That means-" he stopped as a horrible realization overcame him. "That means you sent Stark and the Captain after me even though you knew- sorry, suspected I am a child."

"You're eighteen, almost nineteen. Not a child anymore. A teenager, yeah, and a stupid one at that, but not a kid."

Peter's hand gripped his crutch more tightly, and he considered smashing it into Fury's blind side. But Fury was right, he was a teenager, and despite superpowers, the Director was a fully trained adult with a lifetime's experience of moody superheroes. And he didn't fancy his chances against a helicarrier of assassins and superheroes. "You-"

"Name-calling won't solve shit. Are you in or are you out, Parker? Keep in mind that if you say no, I'm gonna have to keep you on the helicarrier and away from people for their own safety. Your confidant, Miss Stacy, will also have to be detained," Fury threatened, casting a glance at Gwen, who was staring right at them. When she saw Peter's expression, the pencil in her hand snapped in two. Steve Rogers jumped in surprise. "Legal and security reasons. Nothing personal."

"Well, since you gave me so many choices." Peter glowered. "I just don't want anyone- and I mean anyone- To know who I am. Including the rest of the Avengers."

"Done. Ms Potts insisted on that as well."

Peter made a move for the door, but Fury grabbed his arm in a steely grip and looked him dead in the eyes. Or eye.

"Mr. Parker, I must warn you that if the Board of Directors decides you are a threat, not only will you be brought to the helicarrier, you will be neutralized, as will any confidantes and associates. I plan to keep it away from that, but if the board decides otherwise, I can't do anything without directly breaking orders." His tone, although practically the same, had somehow become more urgent. "Don't let them see you as a threat. I'm not talking about what's in your best interests now, Parker." He sighed, and suddenly seemed a lot milder. "I'm sorry that we set the Captain and Stark on you. Try to think of it this way: now that you've become a member of the team, Rogers and Stark will do anything in their power to defend you. Their consciences won't allow them to do less. Now follow me back to the conference room; we have to discuss the Green Goblin and I want to do that with the others."

Then Fury left, leaving Peter standing, lopsided, by himself, wondering how his life could possibly get any worse. That, and why any criminal would be stupid enough to get himself nicknamed 'The Green Goblin'. Arachnids were one thing. Mythical creatures of varying hues were another thing entirely.

And updates will continue to be slow (winces), but in the meantime have fantastic holidays, and have a great start to 2015.