Thank you to all of you that read the first chapter – especially those of you that reviewed. Posting Marvel is a brand new experience for me, and seeing brand new names in my inbox was great. I have been writing for Supernatural and Twilight — on a different account — for 9 years and I got used to seeing the same name. It's exciting to have new readers.

Snarks and I are excited to get this chapter to you as it's a really fun on before the drama kicks in again with Wednesday's update.

Chapter Two

Peter scribbled a note. Is this yours? Don't steal. I'm watching you. Then he stuck it to the bike he'd rescued from a grand theft bicycle. Tony had helped catch the guy, and Peter stuck him to the wall, but they had no idea who owned the bike. Hopefully, the owner would find it.

Tony's helmet was off, and he was watching Peter with a little smirk. "What do you say we get some lunch? That little place you're always raving about it sounds good."

"Delmar's?" Peter double-checked that the bike was secure and then turned to him. He was getting hungry. "Yeah, yeah, that sounds good."

They make their way to the small bodega. Murph was lounging on the counter in all his fat cat glory. His tail twitched when Peter approached, and he yawned, looking bored. Mr. Delmar turned, eyes going wide at the sight of the two heroes. Peter was still in his spidey suit, and Tony was out of his, but he always drew a crowd.

"Hey, Spider-Man, Mr. Stark, good to see you out. Number five, right?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, make that two of them, and pickles on one, and make mine smushed—"

"Real flat," Mr. Delmar finished. "No problem, kid."

Peter left Tony to poke around the store while he found some gummy worms to go with his sandwich. When Peter came back to the counter, Tony was staring at the cat. Peter looked between them for a moment, wondering who would blink first. Tony's eyes twitched, and then Murph blinked and looked away. Tony looked far too pleased.

Mr. Delmar set the sandwiches on the counter and rang them up. Tony pulled out his wallet and paid. Peter had money, and he usually hated it when Tony would spend his money on him, but he figured a sandwich wasn't worth arguing over. He'd make sure he bought next time.

They took their sandwiches to the top of a nearby apartment building and sat on the ledge to eat.

Tony took his out, bit into it, and made a sound of appreciation, but Peter needed to flatten his a little more before he could eat it.

Peter watched Tony as chewed, averting his gaze when the man caught him looking. He took a large bite of his sandwich and looked down at the street while he ate. He pressed the sandwich a little flatter again, pushing a stray pickle back inside the bread.

"Is there a reason you like to turn a perfectly good sandwich into a frisbee before eating it?"

Peter rolled his eyes and chewed quickly to clear his mouth. He swallowed, coughing when it lodged in his throat, and then said with a quick breath, "It tastes better this way."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "I think I'll just take your word for it. I prefer to eat like an adult, not a toddler smushing their dinner against the highchair with their fists."

Peter shrugged and took another bite. It tasted better to him, and that was what mattered.

"Take it slow, kid," Tony said when he took another huge bite. "If you're not healing, I don't want to push our luck—I also never learned the Heimlich."

Peter's face fell, and Tony backtracked. "I'm kidding. If you choke, I'll save you, no worries, but maybe go a little easier on your stomach with one bite at a time."

"It's not that," Peter said, picking at the bread. "It's just …"

Tony stared at him for a moment and then nodded. "You're worried about this healing thing."

"Yeah."

"Honestly, kid, I'm a little worried, too, but we've got Bruce working on it, and you know he's gonna work it out. As long as you take it easy until we get those answers, stick with me, you'll be fine."

"And if I'm not?" Peter glanced up at him, mouth tight. "What if this can't be fixed? What if it's just what I am now?"

Tony considered for a long moment and then smiled slightly. "How about we save the 'what ifs' until they're needed? We've figured bigger things than this out before."

Peter nodded and smiled, but he didn't feel that confident. He was struggling with this whole thing. The fact he'd told Tony felt better, and that Doctor Banner was working on it was great, but he couldn't deny the nagging fear that it wasn't something they could fix.

He was more than just a suit, he was Spider-Man, but what was Spider-Man if he couldn't save people anymore? And what was he supposed to do if he had to stop altogether? Tony couldn't babysit him forever. He had a life, work to do, he had Pepper. Could Peter ever go back to being a regular person if he lost it all? How was he supposed to handle watching people be hurt and not being able to help?

Tony nudged his shoulder. "I know that look, and it's not good. You're going to be fine. I'm sure. Dwelling on what's going on isn't helping you. Do that whole day by day thing all the best shrinks talk about."

"You see a shrink?"

Tony raised his brows. "Kid, you have no idea, but seriously, quit with the overthinking. You're going to start sprouting gray hairs soon."

Feeling a little better, Peter nodded and returned to his sandwich. He was glad he'd been honest with Tony about what was happening and how he was feeling, at least a little of it, because Tony had been through worse and knew what it was like. He'd come through some bad stuff, and he would make sure Peter did, too.

Peter heard a cry of shock and then an accented voice shouting, "Koda, no, bad dog! Come back! Leave the lady alone!"

His eyes scanned the park, and he saw the man waving his hands and running after the dog, which was charging at a woman who had been jogging. She batted away the dog, but it didn't seem to take the hint, focused on biting her headphone wire.

"Crap," Peter muttered, hopping out of the tree and racing after the dog. The park was mostly empty, other than a few families and someone painting by the water.

The dog seemed to sense him coming as it left the woman behind and galloped away from Peter. It was fast and determined to avoid capture by its owner, who was running behind Peter, rasping words that sounded like curses in a language Peter didn't recognize.

He ran faster and threw himself on the dog. They both rolled, a pile of limbs and fur. The dog seemed to decide being caught wasn't that bad as it turned its attention to tugging on Peter's mask off with its teeth. Its breath was warm on Peter's cheek and smelled like fishy dog food. It was disgusting. Peter batted it away from his face and then jumped to his feet, adjusting his mask with one hand while keeping the other clamped on the dog's neck.

"Thank you, thank you," the owner said when he reached them and came to a panting stop. "He doesn't like the leash." He held up the collar and leash. "He keeps getting out of it." He rubbed his chest and then slid the collar over the dog's neck and fastened it a little tighter than it had been before. "You're such a bad boy, Koda."

The dog's tongue lolled out in what Peter could only call a doggy grin. It didn't seem to have a care in the world.

The man held out his hand and said, "I'm Ricardo Rossi. I've only lived in New York a month or so, and I rescued Koda from the shelter last week." He shrugged helplessly. "I had a dog when I lived in Rome, a Pomeranian, who was much better behaved."

Peter didn't know much about dog breeds, but he had a feeling a Pomeranian was one of those little ones with lots of hair. This dog was not small, though he was plenty furry. He reminded Peter of a wolf. His size definitely fit the bill.

"What breed is he?"

"He's a malamute," he said. "I wanted a small dog again, but I found Koda at the pound, and he was so friendly." His gaze dropped to the dog. "I hate to say it, but I think I made a mistake."

Peter rubbed the dog's back and said, "He's definitely friendly. I think you two just need time to get to know each other, and maybe keep the collar a little tighter."

The man nodded. "Google tells me I have to show him who's the master." He looks embarrassed. "I haven't learned how to do that yet."

Peter laughed. "I guess that'll take time, too." He stroked the dog again, feeling eyes on him. He looked up and saw Tony sitting on a bench, his lips quirked up with a smile. "I've gotta go. Good luck with that master thing."

Peter waved goodbye to the man and his dog and bounded over to Tony, who was smiling widely.

"Okay, so I kinda knew you did stuff like this, but seeing it is a whole different thing. Do you often save joggers in distress and arrange heartfelt reunions between dog and owner?"

Peter shrugged. "Sometimes."

"Just a tip, maybe do it without almost losing the mask next time. You've done well keeping your identity secret so far. You don't want a dog outing you in the park."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Still, it stayed on, and all's good. Where should we go next?"

"Sorry, kid, I've got to call it a night. Pepper and I have some big anniversary coming up." Tony scratched at his head. "I can't remember what it's actually for, but I've got to be home and ready to go somewhere fancy by six, or it will be the last anniversary."

Peter was disappointed. He was having fun. "Sure. I'll see you tomorrow. We can patrol, right?"

"We can." Tony smiled, patting his arm. "Now go do some homework, watch some cartoons, do whatever it is non-hero kids do."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Sure, homework. Great."

Homework was necessary, he knew, he didn't want to fall behind, or Tony would start homework sessions to go with the training ones, but he'd been having fun with Tony. He hated to see it end.

When he was with him, he didn't spend so much time worrying about what was going on—or what he might lose. It was nice to forget for a minute and have some fun.