AN: I think this is probably a good time to mention, I'm not totally confident about any of the "science" presented in this fic. Please forgive my misuse of technical terms!

We Might Be Radioactive

Chapter 2:

In the morning Bruce wandered up to the penthouse in search of breakfast, and wasn't particularly surprised to see Steve at the table with bags of takeout. Tony was pouring the coffee while Pepper arranged omelets and fresh toast onto plates.

"Morning, Sunshine," Tony greeted. He offered Bruce a mug.

"Thanks." Bruce and Steve shared a nod as he sat down at the table. "Did you have a nice date last night?"

Pepper's cheeks went rosy as she passed Bruce a plate full of food. "Yes, we had a lovely time."

"JARVIS says you had a date of your own," added Tony. He plunked down at the table. "Courting potential B&Es?"

Bruce chuckled against the lip of his mug and then took a long sip. "It was just Spider-Man," he said.

"Just Spider-Man," Pepper echoed, amused. "What is the world coming to?"

"Did he want to show off his equipment?" asked Steve. "Because I may have given him that idea, sorry."

"Actually, he did." Bruce cut into his omelet. "I was surprised, to be honest. For just some guy working on his own, he's fairly well equipped. Cocky little thing, though. I can't imagine many people willing to scale Stark Tower just to talk to you, Tony."

"You'd be surprised," said Tony. "But I've got to admit, he's bolder than most. So what is his deal? Who is he, where did he come from? And what's with the spiderness?"

Bruce shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, but you can ask him yourself tonight. He said he'd be back."

"We're leaving for Madrid on a ten o'clock," Pepper reminded him.

Tony heaved a sigh. "We can leave tomorrow morning."

"You're expected to be in the meeting by then. You can't put this off, Tony."

"So I'll just take the suit."

Bruce and Steve exchanged dry smiles and continued to eat while Tony and Pepper had it out. "Do you want me to hang around tonight?" Steve offered quietly. "If you're worried about him?"

"I'm not," Bruce said honestly. "He's sharp, whoever he is. I doubt he's interested in making trouble."

"You should still be careful. He may mean well, but what he's doing is illegal. I'm not sure we should be encouraging him."

Bruce was about to say that he wasn't, but then Tony turned toward him. "You're on your own with him," Tony said. "Apparently Spain will sink into the ocean without me, and I'd hate to let Portugal down like that."

"We'll be back on Sunday," Pepper took over. "I'll even add 'date with Spider-Man' to our itinerary." She frowned. "Should I hire in more security for the night shift?"

"He's harmless," Bruce insisted. "And the more people know he was here, the better chance of someone taking it to the press. There's no reason for us to get him in trouble." He motioned to Tony with his mug. "Or let the press connect him to you."

Everyone exchanged glances. "Just don't do anything to scare him off before I get to meet him," said Tony. "If anyone's going to pants the little sucker, it's going to be me." He set his mug down decisively. "We don't need two show-boaters around here."

"You're right about that," said Steve. Bruce only hid another smile against his mug. He already had his plans for the rest of the day.

Googling "Dr. Bruce" was a lot less helpful than "Captain America." Peter spent his lunch period in the computer lab hunting through articles about Stark Tower and the work being conducted there without any luck. He even moved on to Oscorp afterward, thinking that Bruce's familiarity with the webbing was more than coincidental, but again there was nothing to find. After trying a few different angles he gave up just in time for the fifth period bell. With a sigh he sulked to English class with Ms. Henson.

Gwen was already at her desk. Peter gulped, a little flutter in his stomach as he moved past her. She didn't glance up, but he saw her shoulders tighten. It was a strange, awkward dance they had to do every day. Sometimes they managed to have whole, even enjoyable conversations, but there was still that heavy feeling in Peter's gut that swelled whenever she looked at him with concern in her eyes. Everything he did put her in danger. Every moment they were together risked everything. Sometimes he could even taste blood at the back of his mouth.

Peter set his things down at his desk, and then on impulse slid into the chair ahead of her. "Hi, Gwen."

Gwen looked up from the notes she'd been studying. It was only then that Peter remembered they had a quiz that hour, but it was too late to worry about it. "Hi," said Gwen. She tried to smile. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah." Peter shifted awkwardly. "Yeah, everything's cool. How are you?"

"I'm good. Pretty good." Gwen offered him her notes. "Need to cram?"

"Ha, actually, I wanted to ask you something." Peter scratched the back of his neck. He knew it wasn't fair of him to bring up anything related to Oscorp, as Gwen had long since quit her internship there, but she was his last hope. "When you were an intern, did you ever meet a scientist named Bruce?"

Gwen frowned. "Bruce what?"

"I dunno." Peter laughed. "I don't know what his field is or if he even worked there, I just know this scientist named Bruce. He's working for Stark now."

The rest of the class was filtering in, and Peter had to give up his seat to its rightful owner. He moved to the chair behind Gwen, and she turned to face him. "Sorry, but I don't think so," said Gwen. "Stark and Oscorp are rivals, you know. Someone leaving Oscorp for Stark is pretty rare."

"Yeah, I figured." The owner of his second chair was watching him impatiently, so he relinquished it as well and finally sagged behind his own desk. "Thanks anyway."

"Why are you asking?" Gwen pressed. "Who is he?"

"No one," Peter said quickly. "Just someone I met at Stark Tower." Ms. Henson was moving to the front of the room to begin class, so he gave Gwen a reassuring wave. "It's nothing important, really."

Gwen was still frowning as she turned forward. "Just be careful, Peter."

Peter slumped in his chair. He wanted her concern to make him feel better. It didn't.

It was just after eleven o'clock again when Bruce heard something thump loudly against the side of the building. He smiled to himself as he left his workstation and opened the nearest window. As before, a pair of red and blue legs was crawling up the sheer wall. Bruce wished he'd had the foresight to check the soles of the man's feet for some kind of climbing adhesive, as he couldn't make sense of the impossible dexterity otherwise.

"Hey!" Bruce called.

Spider-Man stopped, and a moment later he shot out another web lasso and swung down to Bruce's level. "Oh, hey," he greeted. "Stark must work you guys pretty hard down in R&D, huh?"

"You have no idea," said Bruce, leaning out the open window. "He left us here all alone while he and his girlfriend jetted off to Spain."

"What, really? He's not in?"

"Afraid not."

"Damn." Spider-Man hung off the webbing with one hand as he surveyed the city. "I guess I should have known it wouldn't be that easy."

Bruce leaned back inside and waved him in. "Well, you're here," he said. "Come in anyway. There's something I want to show you."

Spider-Man grabbed the window ledge. "Show me? What is it?"

"Come in and see." When Spider-Man still hesitated, Bruce chuckled. "It's not blue and wearing a badge, I promise."

At last Spider-Man crawled inside. Bruce sensed that he was preparing another witty remark but was halted once he had eyes on the lab. Despite his masked face he was surprisingly easy to read in his body language as he looked over the rows of computers and various equipment with quiet awe.

"You really work here?" he asked, stunned.

"After hours, it's all mine to use," said Bruce. He waved for Spider-Man to follow him, and that time, he didn't hesitate. They moved deeper into the workroom, to the station Bruce had taken over. "Tony's very generous towards his friends." He flashed Spider-Man a wry grin. "He was very disappointed to have to miss you again."

Spider-Man hopped onto one of the office chairs-perched on all fours like an overexcited puppy. "Yeah," he said distractedly. "Me, too."

Bruce should have just told the man when Tony was coming back. Instead, he let Spider-Man twist on his chair, looking over the stations, taking it in. He remembered being overwhelmed by labs half the size in his younger years, and there was something exciting and refreshing about being able to share it with someone-someone who had no reason to mince words or flinch away from him. Someone who could dive out the seventy-ninth floor window to safety if he needed to.

"Over here." Bruce took a seat at his favorite station and opened up the window he had been working in. "I did a cell analysis of that webbing you left behind," he said. "It's fairly sophisticated, being organic. But I think that by treating it with a special enzyme, it could improve the tensile strength and even prevent it from breaking down so quickly."

Spider-Man kicked against a nearby desk, and his chair clacked loudly as he slid in behind Bruce. "A stronger webbing isn't a bad idea," he said. "But it's kind of important that it breaks down as quickly as it does. I leave the stuff all over the city."

"Yes, but suppose there was a time you needed it for something heavier duty." Bruce tapped the keys to bring up one of the computer simulations he'd done. "The enzyme is easy to synthesize, and treatment is as simple as injecting the mixture into one of your fresh cartridges. You might find some use for it."

He called up the molecular structure of the enzyme, and Spider-Man leaned forward to see better, in the process setting his hand down on Bruce's shoulder for balance. The pressure of textured spandex was unexpected, and Bruce couldn't help but flinch beneath it. Spider-Man immediately transferred his hand instead to the back of his chair. It was a brief, trivial exchange, but it made Bruce feel foolish. He had thought he was making progress in terms of being personable.

"You're probably right," said Spider-Man. "It might have come in handy against...well, recently." He tilted his head toward Bruce. "But why would you bother doing this for me?"

"Idle curiosity, maybe." Bruce shrugged and couldn't hide a bitter little smile. "Sometimes when you're stuck on a problem of your own you can't solve, it helps to work on someone else's for a while."

"Huh." Spider-Man considered for a long moment - he was probably right to be cautious-and finally reached for his left wristband. He ejected one of his spare cartridges and offered it up. "So I guess you'll need one of these?"

Bruce accepted, more pleased than he ought to have been by the cooperation. He opened a case on his left and removed the syringe he had finished preparing only an hour earlier. Holding it where Spider-Man could easily see, he injected the pale yellow solution in through the cartridge's nozzle, being especially careful not to trigger a release of the cable inside.

Spider-Man watched with what Bruce interpreted as rapt attention. "So, Dr. Bruce," he said casually. "How long you been working for Stark, anyway?"

Bruce smiled humorlessly; he knew an interrogation when he heard one. "You tried to look me up, didn't you?"

"Uh...yeah. Well, of course I did." Spider-Man pressed one foot against the desk and rocked back and forth on his chair. "Wouldn't you?"

"I would," Bruce admitted. "And I did. I found out all about your incident with Dr. Connors."

He hadn't meant for anything sentimental to creep into his tone, but Spider-Man caught it anyway. "Did you know him?" Spider-Man asked carefully.

"Knew of him is more accurate," said Bruce. He finished with the syringe and sealed the cartridge back up, setting it gently into a waiting dish. "We met a few years ago during the course of my research, but only briefly. Our fields were close enough that we thought we might be of use to each other. Regretfully, we were not."

Spider-Man continued to rock on his chair. "He was a good man," he said after a substantial pause. "I'm not sure that part made it into the news. What happened to him...was only partially his own fault."

Bruce turned away from his experiment. "So you knew him."

Spider-Man fidgeted. "Sort of. I was the one that stopped him, after all. But I did get to work with him for a while before that, too." He abruptly straightened as if realizing he was saying too much. "I wish more people knew what really happened, but...you know."

"I know the feeling." As per Tony's suggestion, Bruce had made every effort to avoid the news coverage coming out of his latest venture through New York's streets, however well-intentioned and despite the positive outcome. It wasn't worth knowing what the general population thought of his "better half." It didn't stop him from wondering, though. "Science isn't perfect. And unfortunately, it's only when it goes wrong that most people take notice." He slipped his glasses off. "It's funny, really, how many of us turn to science thinking we can save the world. But being a scientist isn't like being a super hero." He indicated his guest and smiled dryly. "Everyone cheers for a hero when he succeeds. Mostly they don't notice us at all."

Spider-Man stopped rocking on his chair. "I don't know," he said. "Why can't you be both?"

Bruce frowned, suppressing a tiny, warm spark in his chest. "Like you?" he teased.

"I was thinking more like Tony Stark. The dual occupation route seems to be treating him pretty well."

Bruce chuckled and turned back toward his monitor. "That it is." He tapped a few keys. "It looks like the synthesis is going to take a few more minutes, if you can wait a while longer."

"Of course. You're making this for me, right?" Spider-Man took a look around the lab. "Hey. You got anything to eat around here?"

"There's a vending machine in the hall just outside."

Spider-Man plucked at his skin tight suit. "No pockets," he said sheepishly.

Bruce smiled to himself as he freed his wallet from his back pocket. He handed Spider-Man a five. "See how far you can stretch that," he said. "I could use some sugar."

"Preference?" Spider-Man asked as he kicked off the desk. He skated toward the door.

"Nothing messy." Once Spider-Man had hopped off the chair and disappeared through the door, Bruce shook his head. "Banner," he said, "what have you gotten yourself mixed up in this time?"

A minute later Spider-Man returned with a Coke, a bag of pretzels, and packages of Skittles and M&Ms. Though tiny skittering candies that could get lost under desks perfectly fit Bruce's definition of "messy" he accepted the Skittles. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had them, and he amused himself by popping two in his mouth at a time and trying to guess the flavors without looking. Spider-Man resumed his position on the desk chair and tugged his mask up just enough for a long gulp of cola.

Bruce paused to watch. The sight of soft human flesh jutting out from the synthetic blue and red of the costume reminded him sharply that he was dealing not just with some unknown vigilante, but a person, and all the fallibility that came with it. His curiosity burned all over again. There wasn't much detail he could draw from what he was given, other than a smooth chin and a wide mouth, and he wished he was bold enough to reach for the mask.

Spider-Man finished his drink with a sigh and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "So," he said easily, "what's your problem?"

Bruce started guiltily. "What?"

Spider-Man tore his bag of pretzels open. "You said you're putting off something of yours to work on this," he said. "Anything I can help you with?"

It was an absurd notion from every angle, and Bruce couldn't help his incredulous huff. "I really don't think so."

Spider-Man's mouth twisted in a frown - it was amazing, really, how much actually seeing the expression gave weight to his already boisterous personality. "I may not be on Stark's payroll, but you said yourself I'm pretty smart. You're not even going to tell me what it is first?"

"I said your work was impressive," Bruce corrected him. "But my work is...complicated." When Spider-Man continued to stare back at him, unconvinced, he added, "And confidential."

"Because it has to do with Dr. Connors'?" Spider-Man asked with a hint of suspicion. "What field is 'close to' advanced genetic manipulation?"

Bruce sighed. He was fairly certain that his records had been redacted beyond the reach of your everyday Google search, but without knowing Spider-Man's true origins or intentions, he dared not disclose too many details. "My research involves mutating human genes," he said carefully. "And, more importantly perhaps, retarding and reversing those mutations."

Spider-Man paused with a pretzel halfway to his mouth, and something behind his mask seemed to twitch before he completed the motion. He crunched thoughtfully. "Sounds even more like you would have known Dr. Connors," he remarked.

"Exactly why I sought him out in the first place," said Bruce. "But his research was focused more on directly manipulating the human genome, through gene therapy, invasive DNA. My research is into less controllable outside factors and their effect on human DNA."

"Such as?" Spider-Man prompted.

Bruce felt a warning pulse between his temples. He forced a smile. "That's the part that's classified," he said.

He thought that Spider-Man would press, and he already hated the thought that he would have to force him to leave, but Spider-Man only mulled it over for a minute and then shrugged. "Fair enough. Sorry to pry-I just thought I could be useful to you. Two brains are better than one and all that."

"Yes. Of course." Bruce shook himself to dispel his paranoia, and was relieved when his computer beeped. He turned back to the experimental cartridge and, making sure his thumb was pressed tightly to the nozzle, gave it a vigorous shake. "Looks like it's ready to be tested."

Spider-Man took another long gulp of his soda and then set it aside. Bruce was oddly disappointed to see him tug his mask back down as well. He popped the cartridge out of his left wrist and accepted the new one. "Where should I shoot it?" he asked, all excitement once more.

"Let's go by the windows."

They moved to the line of windows at the rear of the lab, and Spider-Man sat himself on the edge of a desk and aimed his wrist toward the window. On the count of three he depressed the plunger and shot a length of sticky white webbing against the glass. But rather than the thin, semi-translucent fibers, the webbing was fully opaque and much thicker. When Bruce touched the strand it stuck immediately to his palm in a wet, gooey mess. He grumbled under his breath as he tried to free himself and only managed to get his other hand stuck as well.

"Huh," said Spider-Man, severing the strand at his wrist. He squirmed backwards to keep from being caught in the same predicament Bruce was. "Looks more effective as a web, if nothing else."

Bruce chuckled despite his irritation. Seeing as he was already well trapped, he twisted both hands in the web and yanked. "There's no use testing tensile strength using Tony's equipment when it's like this," he said. "The janitors would kill me." When he wrapped the sticky rope around his wrist and pulled he felt an almost instinctual wariness. "I have the feeling the enzyme did manage to increase its strength a decent amount, though."

He opened his hands and tried to pull them free, but the web was too annoyingly adhesive. Even when he blew on it, not a fiber shriveled or gave way. "Fixed the evaporation issue as well," he noted dryly.

"If I ever need to capture a dinosaur, I'll be in good shape." Spider-Man risked one fingertip to test, then pulled back. "Hang out for a second, will you?" He hopped to the floor and disappeared back into the lab.

Bruce sighed. The more he tried to free himself the more the webbing stuck to his hands and forearms, and he finally stopped fighting it. Instead he tried to get a better look, testing the strength and elasticity of his concoction. It was too soon to tell if it would be an effective barrier against the Hulk, but he had no doubt that it could slow him down faster than the nets Ross had once employed. But then, maybe he didn't need to worry about such measures as much anymore.

It was a nice dream, anyway.

Spider-Man returned a few minutes later with a bottle in his hand. He motioned for Bruce to hold out his hands as far as he could and then poured a tablespoon worth of turpentine over the knot of sticky webbing. Almost immediately the webbing began to dissolve and Bruce was finally able to free himself.

"Very clever," said Bruce.

Spider-Man popped the cartridge out and hunted out a permanent marker from one of the desks. He drew an X on it before returning it to the string of extras around his wrist. "Not exactly something for everyday use," he said.

"Guess my formula could still use some work," said Bruce. "But it's a start."

Bruce washed up in the bathroom, and by the time he had returned Spider-Man had finished cleaning up the mess in the lab. He pointed to a jar on Bruce's desk. "I saved you a chunk, in case you wanted to test it."

"Thanks."

Bruce scanned the sample in and nibbled thoughtfully on one end of his glasses as the results flashed across his screen. "Structurally, it is more stable than the unaltered sample," he said, half to himself, as Spider-Man tipped his head back to gulp down the crumbs from his pretzel bag. "Without interference, it could probably go for several hours before losing its adhesive properties, several days before breaking down."

Spider-Man hopped back into his chair and scooted over. "Definitely would have come in handy against those aliens recently," he said. When he leaned forward to read the screen he again placed his hand on the back of Bruce's chair, and seemed to be careful not to breech his personal space by actually touching him.

Bruce watched the hand out of the corner of his eye. "Hopefully, you won't have to use it for catching aliens anytime soon," he said. "I think New York has had its share of monsters for a while."

"Yeah, no kidding. Why can't these things ever go after New Jersey for a change?"

Bruce smiled, but he was still distracted, and he abruptly blurted out, "It's okay. You can..."

...put your hand on my shoulder. He caught himself before he could finish the embarrassing and nonsensical declaration. But Spider-Man had his head inclined, awaiting an answer, so he grasped after the closest and least incriminating. "...Take that mask off," he finished.

Spider-Man leaned slowly back, which was worse than if he had lurched. His hand came off the chair. "It's not like I can identify a million New Yorkers just by their face," Bruce reasoned. "I don't even leave this tower most days. And I'm the last person who would ever turn you in."

Spider-Man fidgeted, his continued silence fueling Bruce's frustration more than he thought it should have. Bruce swallowed and, hoping to sound unconcerned, tried a different angle. "Can't you at least give me something to call you?"

"Is 'Spider-Man' not good enough?" he replied guardedly.

"It doesn't have to be your real name," Bruce persisted. "Can I call you Dan? Michael? Lucas?"

"Peter." Spider-Man shifted again and then shrugged. "You can call me Peter."

Bruce wanted to ask if that was his real name but figured he had stretched his luck far enough. "Peter," he said. He smiled. "If you think of a way to fix this goop, will you let me know? It's going to bother me until I get it right."

Peter chuckled. "Yeah, sure. I know the feeling." Taking that as a cue to leave, he grabbed up his Coke and his M&Ms and hopped to his feet. "But I should get outta here. Maybe actually fight some crime." He tilted his head in what Bruce could only interpret as an eye roll. "Before they take my card away. But I know where to find you."

Bruce leaned back in his chair. "I'll be here."

"Thanks for the...goop," said Peter on his way to the window. With a salute he showed himself out by vaulting into the open air and swinging away.

Bruce moved to the window so he could watch Peter disappear between the buildings and into the distance, free and weightless. He wasn't sure if it was awe or envy that tightened his chest, but he held onto it.