A/N: Thanks again for the support, everyone!

We Might Be Radioactive
Chapter 6

As soon as Peter reached home, he yanked his suit off and headed straight for the shower. He hoped that the hot water would sear away the imprints of hands and lips, and it did, but then all he could think about were Bruce's piercing, angry eyes. He couldn't figure out what had happened and how it had turned so quickly. It was unfair and humiliating, and Peter cycled continuously between anger, shame, and confusion as he scrubbed himself clean and finally just rested against the tile, trying to think.

It was Aunt May knocking on the door almost half an hour later that finally chased him out. He didn't bother to dry his hair, just yanked on a T-shirt and boxers and crawled into bed. Though exhausted, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, and was almost relieved to hear his phone chime with a saved message.

Peter stretched as best he could to get the phone without leaving the bed. He had a voicemail from Gwen, asking that he call back. Several minutes of nauseous deliberation later, he dialed her number. She picked up on the third ring and sounded sleepy.

"Hey, Peter." He could hear her smothering a yawn. "Were you out saving the world again?"

Peter tried to gulp down the lump in his throat. "Yeah, something like that. You called?"

"Uh-huh. I went by the Oscorp building after school today. Dr. Wessler was there - he recognized the name Bruce Banner."

Peter's heart beat faster as he burrowed into his sheets. He suddenly wasn't sure he wanted to hear. "What'd he say?"

"Not much," said Gwen. "He didn't know him personally." Peter he could hear her rummaging about. "But he did say Dr. Banner used to be top in the field of radiation studies. Umm...gamma radiation, to be exact."

"Radiation," Peter echoed, his skin prickling.

"Yeah." Gwen lowered her voice. "Is that why you asked me about him? Does he have something to do with the spider that bit you?"

Peter scraped the back of his hand over his mouth. "I don't know," he said, and he felt emotion creeping up on him again. "Honestly, Gwen, I don't know anything right now. It's...it's just all so stupid. I'm an idiot."

"Peter? Are you okay?"

Her concern was sincere. Peter squeezed his eyes shut, hating the way her gentle voice dove into him and made everything make even less sense. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in a cocoon of old quilts and be alone, without having to worry about the beautiful girl with the dead dad, or the tower hermit with warm hands. He just wanted to sleep.

"Yeah," Peter forced out. "Sorry - I'm fine. It's just been one of those days."

Gwen was quiet for a moment. "There's one more thing, if you up for it."

"Yeah, yeah." With a deep breath Peter had his composure again. "What is it?"

"Dr. Wessler said the reason no one knows much about Bruce Banner is because he's been dead for years," said Gwen. "He was killed in a lab accident down south. It must have been serious because the feds came to Oscorp and asked around."

"Dead?" Peter tried to take it all in and felt dizzy. "Wait - Gwen. You didn't tell this doctor why you were asking, did you?"

"Of course not. I made up some story about hearing the name from Dr. Connors. But Peter." Gwen hesitated. "Be careful, okay? Whoever this guy is-"

"I know," said Peter. He was exhausted and he didn't want to talk about Bruce anymore - didn't even want to think about him. "Gwen, thank you. For doing this. But please, don't go back there, all right?" He scraped his hand over his face. "I've caused enough trouble for you already, and I don't want you mixed up in this. I'm sorry you are even this much."

"I'm okay," Gwen insisted. "But don't worry; I've had enough of Oscorp to last me a long time."

"I'm sorry." Peter shook his head. "Sorry - I gotta go. I'll see you at school."

"Okay. Goodnight."

"G'night."

Peter hung up and let his phone drop to the floor. As he curled up under the blankets, trying to sleep, he couldn't help but repeat Gwen's words over and over in his head. Bruce specialized in radiation studies - he had sought Connors out because of the spiders. Something in his research had gone wrong. The world thought he was dead, so he stayed holed up in Stark Tower doing pet projects for teen vigilantes. It all made a weird kind of sense, but Peter knew he was still missing something. There had to be one more thing that tied it all together.

Peter slept only in short bouts of exhaustion. When his alarm went off he got up and prepared for school as if it were any other day. He saw Gwen in the hall and gave her a smile to show he was all right, but all through first period his stomach twisted and lurched. He couldn't concentrate on anything past Bruce and the conversations they'd had over the past several nights.

"Mutating human genes," Bruce had said while they bonded over junk food and spider goo. "Reversing those mutations. Uncontrollable outside factors and their effect on the human genome."

Peter skipped the rest of school. With Aunt May at work he returned home and, after getting a few suggestions from Yahoo Answers, set about cleaning his suit. It was embarrassing work but his brain was still spinning with questions to distract him. When he finished he moved onto his half-completed spare suit, piecing it together with what was left of his last purchase of spandex. He tried not to think about how much more durable it might have been with Bruce's augments.

As Peter ate lunch in his room, he retrieved the small glass vial from the deepest drawer of his desk. The spider inside had long since died but its body was still well preserved, along with its vibrant colors. Peter turned it gently over in his palm. He had given up wondering about its strange origin and the inexplicable nature of the powers it had granted him; none of that mattered as long as he was able to continue his work. But that was before Bruce.

"Come on, Parker," Peter muttered to himself as he reached for his backpack. "Idiot or not, you can't ignore this chance."

Bruce rolled over and looked to his desk clock: just after 1:00pm. He groaned. "At least the sedatives work," he grumbled as he dragged himself out of bed.

Bruce took his time. By then Tony and Pepper would have left on their various business ventures and the tower scientists would be filling the labs below, leaving him to work in his private rooms in peace. He didn't feel particularly up to it. Though well rested he still felt hazy at the edges, as if his skin were too thick for his body. He pulled a bathrobe on and was contemplating lunch when JARVIS alerted him.

"Dr. Banner," he said through Bruce's laptop. He still wasn't quite used to JARVIS ringing him up so casually in his own room. "Captain Rogers is requesting to be patched through to your private line."

Bruce slumped into the desk chair. "I have a private line?"

"Indeed, sir."

"All right, then." Bruce had a bad feeling about it, but he couldn't very well refuse. "Put him through."

A window popped up on the screen displaying Steve's number and an audio readout. "Steve," Bruce greeted. "What can I do for you?"

"Hey, Bruce," said Steve. "Sorry about this, but I just got a call from our mutual spider-friend, and I promised I'd ask you."

Bruce's heart gave a thud; he was glad they weren't on a video call. "What is it?"

"He wants to talk to you. If I give you his number, will you call him? He was really insistent."

Bruce rubbed his eyes and tried to think of a reason to refuse, but he had known this conversation was coming. He just hadn't expected it to be so soon. "All right," he said. "I'll call."

Steve gave him the number and then asked, "Is everything all right? The kid's not giving you trouble, is he?"

"No," Bruce said quickly. "We're fine. Thanks, Steve."

For several minutes after hanging up Bruce remained in the chair, just staring at the laptop monitor. It was not unlike being in high school, he thought, fretting over a phone call. He told himself he was being childish a dozen times before finally dialing the number. It picked up on the first ring.

"Bruce?" Peter sighed. "Hey. Um, thanks for calling."

Bruce tightened his robe and then felt foolish for it. "Yes. Well. I figured it would be immature not to. I'm sure you want to talk."

"Yeah. Could you maybe...open a window and wave or something?"

Bruce looked to the window and frowned. "You're outside?"

"I assumed you wouldn't be in the lab during the day," said Peter. "But still somewhere in the tower. So...a little help?"

Bruce moved to the window and lifted the blinds. He winced against the daylight, and as soon as he had wrestled the window open Peter said, "Ah, there you are. Would you mind moving to the side?"

Bruce wanted to protest, but it was a little late by then. He did as asked. "What are you going to-"

A pair of web shots smacked into the upper sill, and a moment later a blur of blue and red streaked through the opening and into Bruce's bedroom. Peter tucked and rolled across the carpet until he was halted by the far wall with an impressive thud.

"Jesus." Bruce swiftly shut the windows and the blinds. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," said Peter. He had landed against the wall on all fours, and remained stuck in place almost a foot above the ground before dropping to his feet. He straightened and loosened the backpack that was strapped to his chest, letting it rest on the floor. "Sorry about the dramatic entrance. I wanted to get in fast before anyone saw me, it being broad daylight and all." He glanced around the room. "You're alone in here, right?"

"Yes." Bruce moved to the laptop, hanging up on his end of the call. "Tony and Ms. Potts are both out on business, and there aren't any workers scheduled up here for today, so...yes. We're alone."

Bruce turned to face him again and there paused awkwardly. Now that he knew the truth it was so obvious it was almost painful. Peter was tall and toned but he was still gangly, still growing into his skin. His tiny fidgets and downturned head betrayed his youth so well Bruce could have kicked himself for not catching on sooner.

"Listen," said Peter, but then he had to pause for a deep breath before he could get the rest out. "I want to apologize. You were right - I should have said something." After another moment of fidgeting he sat himself down on the edge of the bed. "It's just, before, it never came up and didn't seem to matter anyway. And last night..." He scraped his feet against the floor. "I thought about telling you, but by then we were making out, and it felt good. I didn't want you to stop."

Bruce's mouth went dry. As he rubbed his jaw he couldn't help but look to Peter's hands, curling and uncurling, the spandex making little ridges at his knuckles. He shook his head as if it might clear the smog still whirling around his brain.

"So, um. That was my bad. Probably." Peter shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry."

"No. I mean, it's okay." Bruce felt disturbingly like a teenager himself as he took a seat next to Peter on the bed. "You were right, too - I never asked." He ducked into his shoulders. Peter wouldn't understand the significance but he had to say it anyway. "And I'm sorry that I lost my temper. That wasn't...like me."

"Yeah, I know." Peter chuckled weakly. "Honestly, you were a little scary."

Bruce winced. "I've been told that before. It's one of the reasons I prefer to work alone."

"They've got classes for that," Peter teased. "Anger management. It's not good for your heart to be that wound up even without a condition."

"No." Bruce looked to the floor. "No, it isn't."

They both quieted awkwardly again. As Bruce struggled to think of something to say his chest tightened with an almost lonely sensation. He missed Peter already. All their harmless flirting, all the selfish fantasies he'd privately indulged in had been seared away. Until last night he had never thought they would culminate in anything anyway, but they had been his to savor in a world that offered him few outlets. A deep and shameful part of him was even angry at Peter for taking that away from him.

"What happens now?" Peter asked carefully. "If you don't want me back, I get it, but I've really liked coming here."

"And I've liked having you," Bruce admitted. "It's been a nice distraction."

"We could just pretend nothing happened. Couldn't we?"

"I don't know." Even just having Peter beside him reminded him too much of long arms wrapped around his shoulders, welcoming him into a warm body and panting breath. It made him eager and bitter at once and he didn't know what to do with himself. "I don't know, Peter. I might not even be here much longer."

"What?" Peter straightened. "Why? Where are you going?"

"My situation with Tony was never meant to be permanent," Bruce went on. It was intimidating having the wide black eyes of the Spider-Man mask fixed on him, but he was glad not to have to face Peter directly. "He invited me here so that I could use his equipment for my work, but I've already done all that I can. I hate the city." He glanced to the window and the lights blaring beyond the glass. "It's time I moved on."

Peter stared; Bruce could feel his body drawing tight, and it infected him with anxiety. "You're full of shit," Peter blurted out. He jumped to his feet. "A scientist like you is just going to walk out of the best lab in the country? Turn down free reign of Stark Tower? You'd have to be insane."

"You don't understand," said Bruce.

"I understand that you didn't say one word about jumping ship before last night. If you don't want me to come back you can just say so. Maybe you have twenty years on me but I'm not an idiot, all right?"

Bruce shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to get into another argument and he took a deep breath before speaking, to be sure that he would say exactly what he meant. "I'm not making up excuses. What I'm telling you is the truth. My situation is complicated."

"Your situation of being legally dead, you mean?" said Peter.

Bruce leaned back. "What?"

"I finally figured it out," Peter went on, though he didn't sound as confident as he was trying to be. "I heard you were in an accident - everyone thinks you're dead."

Bruce's hands fisted in the bed sheets, and he had to concentrate to keep each breath slow and even. "Who told you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does matter - there are people looking for me." Bruce shifted forward to the edge of the bed. "Did you tell anyone that I'm here?"

Peter's body language gave him away before he spoke. "No one you need to worry about," he said. "Trust me, Bruce, I'm the last person who would ever turn you in. Remember?"

Bruce shook his head again. He wanted to run. He had already lost his temper with Peter once and he wasn't sure he could forgive himself if it happened again, even over something as serious as his location being broadcasted. When he closed his eyes he remembered Tony prattling in his ear and it somehow made him calmer. "I do trust you," he said. "I just have to be careful. There's a lot you don't know about me, Peter."

"I know." Peter shifted his weight from foot to foot and at last headed for his discarded backpack. "That's the other reason I came to talk to you."

Bruce felt a prickling of apprehension. "What is it?"

Peter took a small glass vial out of the pack and tossed it to Bruce. "Do you know what this is?"

Bruce caught it, but he had to retrieve his glasses from the bedside table before he was able to get a good enough look at the contents: a large red and blue spider. "I've never seen a spider like this before," he said. "But then, I'm not an expert." He glanced between the specimen and Peter and caught on. "This is one of Oscorp's spiders - the ones that spin their silk."

"Yeah." Peter moved in front of him again. "The first time I went to Oscorp it kind stowed away with me. I didn't steal it. Not on purpose, anyway."

Bruce was about to ask if that was how he was managing to harvest the silk, but a gentle shake to the vial showed that the spider was dead. "If I'm remembering correctly, these spiders have been irradiated," he said. "It's not safe for you to have it, even if it's dead."

"There's not much it can do to me it hasn't already," Peter said. He took a deep breath. "It bit me."

"It bit you?"

"And it changed me," Peter continued. "It's the reason I can do all this hero stuff - it made me stronger, faster, even more flexible somehow. I know it sounds crazy but it gave me super powers. That's how I can do this."

Peter crouched down and then jumped, summersaulting backwards in mid-air to land on all floors against the ceiling. Bruce had had seen his stick-trick a few times but he was still taken aback, and he gaped openly as Peter crawled across the ceiling and then hung from his feet just to prove his point. It was fascinating and for the moment Bruce forgot all the strife that had led to this moment. He didn't even bother to try figuring it out for himself, simply asking, "How are you doing that?"

"I honestly don't know." Peter dropped and landed on his splayed fingertips. His balance was nearly perfect. Once he was upright again he faced Bruce with full seriousness. "I was hoping you'd help me figure that part out."

"Me?" Bruce took another look at the spider in his hands and licked his lips. "I don't know..."

"You said your field is mutant genes," Peter insisted, stepping closer. "Mutations caused by radiation. That's what you meant when you said you and Dr. Connors were in a similar field, wasn't it? Which means you could, you know, study me, maybe. Tell me how this happened and if it's permanent."

"Slow down," said Bruce. His pulse was already faster than he would have liked and he didn't want to be drawn in by Peter's momentum. "You're really saying that irradiated spider venom gave you the ability to climb walls?"

"I know, I know. But it's the truth." Peter pulled his gloves off and tossed them roughly in the direction of his backpack. "Here - give me your hands."

Bruce's mouth went dry again. He placed the vial on the table behind him and turned back, uncertain what to expect. As he lifted his hands it occurred to him that he had never seen Peter's hands exposed - or any part of him except for the lower half of his face. It was oddly intimidating but he pressed his palms flat to Peter's all the same. At first he felt nothing, and he was about to ask Peter what he was supposed to be waiting for, but then something tickled his weather-worn callouses. When he tried to pull his hands back, Peter's came with them, and wouldn't release even though his fingers were straight and flat.

"It tickles," Bruce said, flexing his hands so he could feel Peter's skin gently pulling. It might not have been the tactful reaction but he couldn't help when fascination made him grin. "And you can do that through the spandex? I suppose it helps that the material is porous." He drew Peter's hands closer. "It's unbelievable. The spider venom actually overwrote parts of your DNA to give you scopulae? Is it just your hands and feet or is it all over?"

"Um, just hands and feet, as far as I know," said Peter. "I haven't tried anything else. It's mostly involuntary."

"That's...extraordinary." Bruce gave his hands a gentle shake, and Peter released him. He then clasped Peter's hands from below and rubbed his thumbs experimentally against the center of his palms, testing to see if he could feel the tiny hairs. "I'm wishing I had my microscope."

Bruce lifted his head, and though Peter was still hidden beneath the mask, he could sense the change in him. Peter was tense and almost breathless, and Bruce quickly sobered. He had to remind himself he was dealing with more than a science experiment. "What do you need from me?"

"I don't know," said Peter. His fingers curled tentatively against Bruce's. "But I want to understand what's happening to me, and you're the only one I can ask." He huffed out a sigh as if trying to make light, but Bruce could hear the thread of frustration beneath. "And not just about the spider stuff, either."

Bruce swallowed. He understood what Peter was feeling, and it put fresh guilt in his stomach. Not everyone had to endure the bitterness and fear of having a rage monster under their skin, but he remembered almost too well what it was like being a gangly teenager on the edge of self-actualization. He shoved aside his selfish anxieties and twisted his wrists so he could grip Peter's hands properly. "Was that your first time?" he asked gently, trying not to remember the events in too much detail, for his heart's sake. "Being...physical with another man?"

Peter squirmed uncomfortably. "First time past second base at all," he replied. "I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I'm kind of surprised you didn't throw me off halfway through."

Bruce chuckled and was sure he was blushing. "You were fine," he said. "More than fine."

"Yeah?"

The thread of eagerness under his voice was oddly infectious. "Yes," said Bruce. He wasn't sure if it was right to encourage Peter, but he wasn't about to discourage him, either. "I certainly couldn't tell."

"Good." Peter laughed. "Because I totally need that on top of everything else: to be bad in bed."

Bruce laughed with him even though his chest felt tight. "So much for pretending it didn't happen."

Peter's hands flexed against his. "Is it..." He shrugged. "Is it really that bad, even?"

Bruce sighed. "Peter."

"I don't want to start another fight," he said quickly. "But honestly, now that the cat is out of the bag, so to speak, does it even matter that much?" He let go of Bruce's hands and instead touched his chest. "I'm a teenager; I'm not toxic."

"Actually, you're potentially radioactive," Bruce corrected. He took Peter's waist almost without thinking. "But I guess you're not the only one."

"Oh?" Peter tugged at Bruce's bathrobe. "Are you glowing under there?"

Bruce blushed again, but before he could urge them apart, Peter leaned closer. "Seriously, Bruce," he said. "Why does it matter?"

Bruce wanted to answer. Just because was at the top of his hastily crafted list of reasons, but he didn't make it even that far. Peter was warm and in his arms and maybe it didn't matter as much as he thought it did. He shook his head, trying to remain rational, but then Peter tilted his head, and it was too much to resist. He stayed still and let Peter kiss him.

It was strange, through the mask. He could feel the soft texture of the rubber against his lips, and though he never would have considered himself a man of many kinks, he had to admit that it excited him. When Peter's hands pressed into his chest he imagined what it would feel like if they were to stick to his skin. The thought made him shiver, and he kissed Peter back, even becoming bold enough to flick the tip of his tongue against the ridges.

Peter reached for his mask. He got it just over his mouth before Bruce stopped him. "Leave it on," said Bruce. It was selfish, and stupid, and he wasn't sure he could go through with it if he saw Peter's face and fully appreciated the gap between them. "You promised."

Peter laughed breathlessly and leaned into him. A feeling of defiance overwhelmed Bruce. He had something here and he suddenly couldn't think of a good enough reason to let it go - not Peter, not Tony and his tower, not the progress he'd made. One stupid fight meant nothing and he could still control himself. He was here for a reason that meant more to him than the breach of social propriety that was having a crush on a stubborn teenager.

"Okay," said Bruce. He rubbed Peter's back encouragingly. "I'll help you however I can. I'm not going anywhere just yet."

"Good." Peter licked his lips. "Does that mean we...?"

"One thing at a time." Bruce urged him back. Part of him would have been happy to repeat last night, but focusing was more important. "I'll take a sample of your blood for analysis," he said as he led Peter into the next room where his personal kits and equipment were. "And I'll hold onto that spider of yours for a while, if you don't mind. Though I'm not sure how much I'll be able to learn from it, considering it's been dead for some time."

Peter watched him pull a syringe out of his satchel. "What if you had a live one?" he said.

"That would be a huge help." Bruce pulled a pair of chairs together and motioned for Peter to sit down while he prepared the needle. "With a live one I could observe the amount of radiation they give off, maybe even get a sample of the venom. It might be the only way to know for sure what its capabilities for mutation are."

Peter sat down and rolled his sleeve up. He remained quiet while Bruce swabbed the inside of his arm with alcohol. It took Bruce a moment to really catch on.

"Don't get any ideas," Bruce warned.

"There's only one way to get a live one," said Peter.

"No." Bruce met his gaze seriously - or at least, as much as he could through the mask. "I know how you feel but it's not worth the risk. We'll make do with what we have. All right?"

Peter frowned, but he nodded. "All right."

Bruce took his blood and then immediately began setting up a workstation. "I might have to take a trip downstairs to get a proper analysis done," he said to himself. "Without letting the whole lab find out where it came from. You don't mind if I bring Tony in on this, do you?"

"Of course not." Peter poked at the Band-Aid on his arm a few times before pulling his sleeve back down. "I'd still like to meet him sometime. Unless..." He squirmed. "Does he know? About...us?"

Bruce grimaced. "I didn't give him the details, but I'm sure he'll figure it out eventually. I'll handle it." He flashed Peter a sympathetic smile. "You just focus on you for a while, all right?"

"Yeah." Peter tugged his mask down. "I guess I should go."

Bruce walked him back to the bedroom window and opened it. "I'll get started right away," he said. "Well, after I clean up a little. Now that I have your number, I can call you once I learn something."

"Okay, great." Peter tugged his backpack on. "Take good care of my spider, okay? I know she's already dead and everything, but...you know." He shrugged. "Sentimental value."

"I understand," said Bruce. "I will." He took Peter's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I do know what you're going through, believe it or not. And we're going to figure it out together, I promise."

Peter gripped Bruce's hand in both of his. "Thank you."

As Peter sailed away, Bruce turned back inside and picked the glass vial off the table. "Spider venom," he murmured to himself as he turned it back and forth. It seemed ridiculous, but he was grateful that he had such an unusual puzzle to keep him occupied.