This is my first big project with a MCU fiction, I'm so excited!
English isn't my mother tongue, however I have a marvelous beta-reader (thank you again alifetime, this fiction wouldn't be here without you :D)
I have few warnings for you though, it's important to read this if you haven't read the tags yet:
- There will be descriptions of violences, fights, and death.
- major character death
- Homosexual relationship
- Peter wasn't bitten by a spider here, this is a natural mutation (like in the X-men movies)
- Tony, May, and Marie are siblings, so Tony is Peter's uncle, and Harley is Peter's cousin. Ben adopted Peter, this is the reason his family name is Parker (instead of his father's name).
- In this fiction, Spider-Man will be sort of darker (more violent and coarse...)
- Not Canon Compliant
- Spider-Man's identity is still secret at the start of the fiction
- Civil War happened, but Spider-Man never had joined the fight.
Enjoy it !
When Peter was a child, he lost both his parents in a plane crash. People believed the skittishness they saw had something to do with his parent's death. The truth is that he barely remembered them. Peter was four when it happened. He remembered that his uncle Ben was holding him in front of the graves. The red and white flowers. Everyone patted his head, weeping; he didn't understand what death meant.
The untimely death of Peter's parents is the reason he went to live with two different families. First, it was mostly his uncle Ben with his aunt May. They didn't have a child at the time, to the contrary of Pepper and Tony who had Harley. His cousin was six-years-old. He was his best, and his only friend. But things changed when Peter began to live with them. For the working week, he was at the tower, and at the weekend, he was at Ben's and May's.
Harley spoke less to Peter as they grew up. The media began harassing their family. Social bonds were weird. Enemies, hypocrites, liars, and pressure appeared. As did puberty.
However, over time, Peter made some friends. Especially Ned and Michelle. He would never forget the smile on his aunt Pepper's face when he introduced them to her during a time when he was fighting his apprehension.
And then… strange things happened. Again.
Peter had heard about mutations; opinions were various. Some people thought that all mutants were freaks. Others thought that they were gifted by God – to help and lead the world to be a better place. Peter had never known what to think about them. As a child, those people were awesome because they had super-powers – once he saw a girl who could melt or burn everything she touched with her bare hands; he was in his last year of elementary school. What he saw was awesome. Until the girl hurt someone. Severely. Peter had never heard about her since. Then those people became different to him too. Abnormal. It was maybe the famous irony of fate because when Peter turned fourteen, he began to stick.
The first time had been with a can of coke, at the refectory. He had thought that it was a joke from Flash or someone else. But no one was taking photos or laughing when it happened. No one had noticed.
The second time had been with a pencil; Peter was doing his homework. It broke when he began to panic. The fingers pressure was too hard on it.
The third time, Peter cried. His hand had been stuck on his bedroom's door handle at Ben's and May's apartment. Again, he broke it because of fear. The door dislocated, and the handle unscrewed.
Ben tried to speak to him. Man to man, he had said. It was always easy to talk with his uncle. Nevertheless, Peter didn't tell him about his new secret. Those kind of things still happened a lot. Months had passed, and he became stickier. Stronger. Faster. Muscular. His eyes were always painful, awfully sensitive, and so were his ears.
So, in the end, he had to hide his body with large sweatshirts. His hands were as long as possible in his pockets. Peter also wore earphones to block outside noises. He cheated weirdly in PE, acting as if he was constantly in distress to not be noticed. One day Peter received a punch from another teen in the same class that lead to a critical black eye. His uncle Tony had put some ointment on the bruise to help it to heal. But the next morning, nothing was left. The blackeye was long gone. Afraid that his abnormality would be discovered, he decided to harm himself to let appear as a new mark.
It took time, but he finally admitted it: he was a mutant.
A freak. A monster.
Peter had once asked Steve whether people referred to Captain America as a monster because of his serum. The man had gently smiled at him and patted his curly hair before answering that there was a lot of monsters in this world who exist who by no means deserve the hatred from people.
Monsters weren't the only ones in depth at sea.
He looked at his hands. He looked at the wall before him. And he was climbing toward the sky.
Peter jumped from the roof of a building to another for hours. Yelling. Smiling. Living.
Peter never felt that before. It was like being alive for the first time. And it felt so good. He was powerful. And so strong. He finally escaped the shadow of the Stark family – the great shadow of Iron-Man.
At the beginning, it was just for the fun. Peter hung around the city after school. He ran as fast as he could and climbed again and again.
Until he heard someone scream. Something within him woke up and made his senses go haywire. Peter didn't even think about anything else before he swung to the person begging for his life in this dark alley. It was a young man, curled on the dirty ground, begging for his life as another man – much older – was beating him. Laughing. Grinning like a madman. Peter instinctively stepped forward. A knife appeared in the man's hands. And one second later, a neck was broken.
Time seemed to stop when Peter understood what he had done. The man was dead. He had killed him. With his bare hands.
He was about to cry and run away when the younger man sniffed and choked out a barely audible, "Thanks."
The bad guy was… gone. And the good guy was safe.
The Avengers didn't save him. It was Peter Parker. And he was now really a monster for what he had done to this man. He ran away. Sobbing, his thoughts conflicting against the power he held in his hands.
For days he thought about his new powers. He thought of how to use them, and if it was a good or a bad thing. His Stark mind prompted him to improve his new self. So he created his webs, based on the spider. It had always fascinated him, and studying these incredible creatures had been very interesting. As for the creation of his web-shooters, Peter had done that on his own. He became step by step the spider in the dark. Hiding, waiting to attack. Quiet, but no less weak.
When he chooses to do something with all of this, Peter wasn't very confident. He dreaded the moment when the Avengers would take an interest in him, the new vigilante of Queens. The young man was strong, yes, but what could he do against all of those super-heroes? Besides, all of them were in his heart. Peter could never hurt them – he never would. Though Iron-Man was still his first concern. Of all, his uncle was far more susceptible to discover everything. And if he did, he would do anything to stop him. Peter knew that his uncle was protective. Tony had always taken them away when danger was apparent, or when he had to do an Avenger-thing. Do as I say, not as I do, Peter always thought deep in his mind. His uncle's famous words always rattled something inside of him.
However, it was his life. His family could help him through it. But none of them could ever chose it for him.
With a pair of old clothes, Peter made a suit. Well… Maybe it looked better in his head. But he knew that it would do.
His homemade suit had grey, long sleeves under a black sleeveless hoodie with a red spider chest emblem - he sewed it himself after some advice from Aunt May regarding the needles - dark fingerless gloves with webbing designs on them, and black goggles to fight crime which was more or less adapted to the sensibility of his eyes – he stole them from Bruce's laboratory; he was away at the time, and the goggles were not going to miss him.
Peter had thought that it was hard and laborious to all sew up. But he eventually fought it, and up came the first swinging test.
Peter had sworn that he had never felt so ridiculous before, by standing up on this roof in the middle of the night, legs and hands shaking while he was holding a rope of web, the other side stuck to another building which was about thirty meters away of him. God, he sounded like Tarzan…
Yet, swinging through a street proved otherwise; he nailed it.
Though, concerning the emergency stops, or at least emergency turns...
Peter went back to Ben and May's home with a black and blue side that night. But if there were broken ribs, then the next morning there was almost nothing left to see.
Despite the fear and some scratches, Peter did it.
It was... magic. Like flying.
Is this how Iron-Man felt when he was in the sky?
Press called the new masked vigilante Spider-Man. The teenager blushed when he read this on social media for the first time. People were talking about him. Criminality began to decrease in Queens. Thanks to him. Spider-Man.
The Avengers didn't bother him. The neighbourhood police couldn't even succeeded to talk to him. People ran after him when he appeared for a few seconds through the city. Screaming his hero-name. Taking pictures. Greeting him. He was loved. Admired. This was so nice.
But when we dream, we always have to wake up.
Ben died.
His uncle was looking for him while Peter was patrolling in the Queens. He had noticed his absence. Truth is Ben had always noticed a lot of things, including Peter's strange behaviour since he was Spider-Man – always sneaking out when everybody was asleep, staying in his room, being grumpy. Ben had wanted to help him. And Peter had told to his uncle to leave him alone.
Then, Peter heard the gunshot.
Since he was little, his uncle Ben was the one who was the most paternal for him. If he had to call someone 'dad' then it would have been him. He wasn't distant and awkward as was his uncle Tony. Ben knew what to do, what to say. Just go away, Peter had coldly said to him.
Uncle Ben was lying on the floor, dying.
Peter took off his mask and knelt beside him. Then he realized that barely a minute wasn't enough to say all you needed to say to someone you love. Though, the funny thing is that Peter, sometimes, couldn't remember what his uncle told to him. He remembered the blood like it was red-marked into his mind.
This time, Peter did understand what death meant.
Ben died because some guy decided that his life had to stop there. His uncle did not give up the car. He tried to reason his assailant. Of course, he did.
Sometimes Spider-Man did kill people. It was never for pleasure, or premeditated. It happened when he had to act for his life. And this time was special. He had someone to kill.
Finding this man was easy. He recognized Ben's car parked near this shabby building. Peter climbed onto the walls and slid out of the window like a silent and a deadly shadow. No sound was heard. However, the body of his uncle's murderer was found hanging on a beam in his apartment, his four limbs dislocated and his jaw broken.
When he eventually returned to his apartment, he dropped into bed and finally cried. Ben was dead and it was his fault. Being Spider-Man was supposed to bring him more freedom. He felt happy under the mask of Queens' vigilante. Now he felt angry. Betrayed by his alter-ego. Bad people had always existed. But being a victim of one of them is different. It had a more real and cruel aspect. The feeling of injustice wasn't enough to beat the injustice. It wouldn't bring Ben back to life. Peter knew that. He also knew that there were many other people like his uncle, victims of the injustice of this world. People who didn't arouse the interest of the Avengers. So many innocents who needed protection. Peter swore to himself that he would never let that happen again. Not when he was Spider-Man, looking out for the little guy.
Aunt May timidly knocked on his door the next day. She gently stroked his hair, and he didn't miss her red and puffy eyes. Peter had to cry a second time, pretending to be surprised. In a sense it was real. He realized that it wasn't a dream, and sadness overcame him for the second time.
Ben was gone.
The funeral took place a few days later. Only family and close friends were there. May did not want to see anyone else. Peter held her hand tightly during the ceremony. His eyes were burning with anger when it wasn't with guilt. A little voice was singing in his head 'It's your fault.'
What was more surprising was that the most painful was not directly Ben's death, but May's behaviour during the weeks that followed. She did everything she could to stay strong. His aunt May had never cried in front of him. Peter knew that it was to not add a weight on his shoulders. But if she discovered his secret one day, she would never forgive him. He is the reason why his aunt is widowed. Everyone loved Ben.
It took months to move on after his uncle's death; life continued its course.
Peter went back to school a week after. Ned was there for him, doing what he had to do to comfort his best friend. MJ too, in her way. It didn't recover the hole that Ben had left in his heart, but it helped.
May and he continued to watch movies together, every Saturday night. Tony continued to tinker with him in his lab. Clint continued to teach him the archery. Steve and Natasha continued to teach him self-defence tricks at the tower gym. And Rhodey, when he was not busy with a mission, continued to take him to fast-food restaurants – sometimes with Harley. Even if he secretly became a vigilante, the idea was pretty clear: to not live in the past, and go for the future. Peter had had hope.
Then, Sokovia Accords arrived.
This time it wasn't a bullet that tore apart his family. It was papers. Medias called this tragedy "Civil War".
As Spider-Man, he had to be ready to stand up beside the avengers to fight those stupid accords. Government couldn't impose them missions, or rules. They were heroes, already ready to give up their lives. The world needed them. Peter nearly abandoned his secret identity. And then his uncle Tony fucked up: he signed. So did Rhodey and Natasha.
Tony wouldn't let his family hear about the other Avengers since Germany.
He came back hurt and became as silent as a corpse. Peter and Harley had to stay at May's for two weeks after those events. Yet, Tony was still taciturn. It's been a month and a half since – it became a taboo subject. Even Pepper sometimes acted as if nothing happened. Peter did like everyone else and remained silent. However, he couldn't forget that his world had exploded. His family was gone.
Being Spider-Man didn't help to go through that. His sleep was agitated, haunted by nightmares and ghosts that he wished he could have forgotten. Ben, Steve, Sam, Natasha, Bruce, Clint. They all were gone.
"You're not alone "
Peter jumped in a sitting position in his bed with a jerky breath, his body gleaming with sweat. For a second he couldn't remember where he was, or what was happening. This is why he found his own hands clenched into fists, ready to fight – his senses highed up crazily, almost led his eyes wet. It took a long minute before his eyes caught on a desk. His desk. There was his school notebooks on it. Peter remembered leaving them there last night, before slumping onto his bed. He sighed loudly and let his shoulders sag. I'm at the tower, right, Peter thought. He put his hands on his face, trying to stop the little tremors that shook his body. Damn, he needed a shower.
Violent knocks thundered against his bedroom's door, made him jump once again.
"What the hell are you doing?! Happy'll be here by ten minutes! Move your lazy ass !"
Harley, as pleasant as ever.
Footsteps sounds went far away, followed by edgy mumbles.
Well, there was no time for a shower. If he was late – again – Happy would probably kill him.
Peter hurried to get dressed, ensuring that his sweatshirt was large enough to hide his body, then he went to the kitchen. He found Pepper who was cutting strawberries into small squares, putting them into a mixer with bananas. His nose wrinkled at the smell; how could she eat that? He remembered that once she said something about eating healthy. Another girl thing, Peter guessed.
"Hi Pepper," he said happily, kissing her cheek before opening the high cupboard to take a chocolate bar.
"Hi, sweetheart. I made you a chicken sandwich for lunch." She pointed at a bag on the central island. "You never take time to eat your breakfast. For a few days now."
He could hear the worry through her voice. Nevertheless, his aunt's eyes were still shining with love and kindness. Warming people's hearts as one of her super-powers, with the capacity to made his uncle shut up – sometimes. After a few seconds, he smiled at Pepper.
"I'm fine, just not hungry."
Pepper wiped her hands with a towel before going towards her nephew.
"If I had believed Tony and didn't kick him out of his labs every time he told me that, he would probably be dead a hundred times at least."
Tony is an idiot.
"Talking about him... where is he?"
Silence was eloquent. Peter felt sad for his aunt – since the Germany-incident, Tony spent a lot of time locked up in his labs. He does that when he is upset. Never talking, or sharing his pain. Just be an incredible asshole.
"Tony is busy. But don't worry, he'll be back before you know it. Tony is… well, Tony."
"Y-Yeah... you're right. Thanks, aunt Pepper."
She gave him a gentle smile and kissed his cheek before he could grab the bag and go outside the tower to meet Happy who was already annoyed of the pending.
.
"Okay, kids!" Happy's voice snapped, locking Peter out of his thoughts.
The teenager lifted his head to take a look around them. The car was parked in front of Midtown School, as per usual. He whined when he saw all the reporters who were waiting for them, with big cameras and mics; the daily artillery was calling them.
"So, you know the protocol: head down. Don't be rude. Don't fool around – hey, Harley, that is for you."
The concerned one didn't bother to look at the driver, or even nod. Earphones were in his ears, and from what Peter saw, Harley was scrolling Instagram's actualities. Their eyes briefly met and the younger immediately turned himself toward his window to avoid his cousin's irritated glare. Happy sighed as he opened his door.
Reporters went crazy.
Peter hated being flashed by cameras. He had experienced this all his life, especially when the Avengers had formed. It had faded over time but since the Sokovia Accords, going out has become hell. Happy was now escorting them everyday school to the gates of the school, ready to push away any overly confident journalist who could block their way.
The younger one bowed his head, ignoring the mics and the questions as Happy was leading them through the crowd. Inversely, Harley was smiling, head up, and walked with a proud and confident pace. Yep, Harley was a Stark. Tony's son.
"Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark, what can you say to us about Captain America?!" asked a reporter who looked ridiculous as she tried to follow Harley with her huge stilettos.
"First, he's gay. Look at his hair. Secondly, he's an asshole."
Peter clenched his fists. His senses were warning him. God, he didn't like the flashes. He tried to keep staring at the floor as he walked toward the gates. Just a few meters.
"Mr. Parker! Any word about the death of Benjamin Parker?!"
"Is Tony Stark going to adopt you ?!"
"How do you feel about the end of the Avengers ?!"
"Harley, Peter, are you considering the option of being the next Iron-Man?!"
More flashes. Screams.
Uncle Ben. Steve. Oh, God…
His ears started to buzz when suddenly they were in school. The doors closed behind them, stifling the voices of the reporters, and everything went back to normal. Harley went for his friends who were greeting him, and Peter was no one again. Students were staring at him, but he acted as he didn't notice. He didn't want attention – he didn't like it, especially from strangers. Before Spider-Man, Peter was afraid of this because he always felt weak against the others. Now, it just annoyed him.
As he was going for his locker someone collided his shoulder. He hadn't felt it coming because of the reporters' voices that were still in his head.
"You're on the way, Dickwad !"
Flash, of course. His friends laughed, looking as if he was less than nothing. The daily treatment for him. As breaking their bones wasn't an option, Peter just continued on his way, staring at the ground, his right hand on his numb shoulder.
While he was taking some notebooks from his locker, he felt a presence near him. Peter couldn't help but smile before he even saw the owner of this friendly aura: Ned.
"Hi, dude."
"Hi! Have you eyes in the back?" Ned laughed before doing with his friend their usual hand check.
"Almost. You just smell."
Ned outraged face made Peter laughed. Their childish squabbles were one of the only things that hadn't changed in recent months – in a way, it was a comforting and a homely feeling.
"Hey losers. It seems you had brought your dogs with you. Again."
They both turned toward MJ. She smiled, shamelessly, and then looked at Peter, waiting for any answer. Indeed, all the students of Midtown School had to endure the reporters too, especially when they had to enter into the building – reporters sucked, they were like statues, waiting to get what they wanted to finally move away. He closed his locker and put his hands inside of his pockets, nervous.
"W-Well... We didn't a-ask for th-..."
"I'm messing with you." She interrupted him, already walking away. "We have a math test. Hurry up guys, I won't cover you this time."
Then she was gone. Ned and Peter looked at each other before shrugged. Michelle was Michelle. But sometimes, Peter had to admit it, she scared the shit out of him.
Yet it was the closest thing he had to a stable family right now. MJ and Ned – maybe Pepper too – were the only ones who didn't change towards him, so it didn't remind him that his life was shit.