Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel.

Warning: This chapter contains some violence.

Peter ended up sleeping through the entire night, something that made him groan when he woke up. He hadn't gone on patrol the night before. Who knew how many people he could of saved and didn't because his stupid brain decided to play catch up on sleep?

His clock read 7:13 when he awoke and he found himself staring blankly at it until it read 7:45. With a sigh, he became aware that he should probably get up. Usually, breakfast was served at 7:30, meaning he was already fifteen minutes late. He was surprised that the team let him sleep in. Usually, Steve would be knocking on the door if he was even a minute late.

Usually meant before Aunt May's death.

He really wished they would treat him the same. Sure, he was still very much grieving and going through a rough patch. He could acknowledge that. Still, it infuriated him how they were treating him as if he was made of glass. He was a superhero and he just knew that the reason they treated him like this was because he was fifteen.

That infuriated him.

He let out another groan, turning onto his back and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. A soft 'thud' alerted him that something had fallen off the bed.

Had he fallen asleep doing homework or something? No, he was sure he hadn't. Summer break was almost on him, which meant that finals were as well, but he just didn't have the energy to really care about it.

After a moment, curiosity got the better of him. He peeked over the bed to see what had fallen and found a stuffed spider on the ground.

"Really? Again?" he sighed at the sight. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and snatched it off the floor before tossing it under the bed, with the other stuffed animals that he had accumulated.

Someone on the team, he wasn't sure who, had been leaving them in his room since his aunt's death. He never mentioned it to anyone, because while part of him was annoyed at the childish gifts, another part was actually a bit touched. He wasn't sure what he would say if he confronted the team about it. Would he ask them to stop, or thank them?

In the end, he had just decided not to mention it at all.

There was a soft knock on the door, sounding almost hesitant, before Bruce's voice spoke through, "Peter? Are you awake?"

He let out a small sigh and walked up to the door, swinging it open. He was still dressed in the sweats and t shirt that he had slept in the night before, and he had a bad case of bed head, but he couldn't find it in himself to freshen up a bit, "Yeah. I'm up."

As it turned out, it really didn't matter that Peter wasn't properly dressed for the day, because neither was Bruce. He was wearing baggy pajama pants and a large, purple shirt that was half way tucked in. His feet were bare and his eyes were sleepy. Apparently, Peter wasn't the only one to sleep in.

"Tony took Pepper out for the day," Bruce said, "Natasha and Clint got sent on a mission, and Steve, Sam, and Bucky headed out to the gym. Something about needing to get Bucky out of the tower."

That was good, Peter reasoned. Bucky was a bit of a recluse. It was partly (mainly) Tony and Bruce's fault, as they were worried that the man would get triggered into the Winter Soldier out in public and hurt innocent civilians.

"So, it's just us?" Peter asked before hiding a yawn behind his hand. It was rare for the tower to be so empty.

Bruce gave a nod, "Yeah. Sam made some pancakes. You can go get some if you want."

His stomach growled at the mention of food. He'd skipped dinner the night before since he'd fallen asleep. Skipping meals in the Avengers was frowned upon, especially for the ones with an extremely high metabolism. It was a miracle that Steve, or even Bucky, hadn't stormed into the room and dragged him downstairs by his ears.

"I could eat," he responded simply, before following the man to the main floor.

After he'd wolfed down some food, Bruce mentioned that he was heading down to the lab and Peter decided to join him. Peter wasn't as close with Bruce as he was with Tony. It wasn't that Peter disliked the man (actually, Bruce Banner had always been an idol of his), it was just that Bruce was quieter and more withdrawn and it was harder to strike up a communication with something non-science related with the man than it was with Tony.

Still, Peter enjoyed spending time with Bruce. The lab was one of the only places where that was possible, and it was a good thing that Peter loved science.

"So, what are you working on?" he asked, walking over to where the man was leaning over a microscope at something.

Bruce glanced up at him briefly before looking back down, "I'm studying some of Deadpool's blood."

"Deadpool?" Peter asked. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't think of who he or she was.

Bruce nodded, "He's a Mercenary, often known as 'Merc with a Mouth' because he talks a lot. From what we've heard, he'll do anything for money. He'll kill anyone who gets in his way. That makes him a threat."

Okay, well that answered one question bouncing around in his mind, "Why are you looking at his blood? How did you even get his blood?"

This time, when Bruce glanced up at him, he didn't look back down through the microscope, "He's got a healing factor as good as, if not better, than Wolverine's. He can't die."

Peter knew who Wolverine was. He had never personally met the guy, but Tony had mentioned him a few times. Apparently, the man, who Tony called Logan, had worked with them a few times.

"He can't die?" Peter asked in surprise, "Like, from anything? What if he got his head cut off?"

"Still won't die. It's happened before, according to the records SHIELD gave me. He just reattached it."

Peter grimaced, nose wrinkling up in disgust at the mental image that ran through his mind. No, he was very sure that he never wanted to see that.

"So, the blood? How'd you get it?"

Bruce jotted something down on a notepad and then tapped the pen against his chin, "SHIELD gave it to me. Deadpool got shot when he was completing a… kill. SHIELD has been trying to catch the guy for ages. They got a sample of his blood off the floor and asked me if I can look into it, try and figure out how he got his powers."

"What other powers does he have?" Peter was curious. He knew that Bruce was often tasked with jobs like this, to look into someone's DNA and find out how they ticked, but he'd never actually seen him doing it.

The man gave a shrug, "I'm not sure. The only thing that's certain is his Healing Factor. There's rumors that he can teleport, but those haven't been proven yet. All anyone really knows is that he's insane."

"Insane?"

"Yes."

Bruce didn't clarify. Peter decided not to push it. Instead, he asked, "Mind if I take a look?"

"Be my guest."

When Bruce and Peter made their way back to the main floor, they found Sam, Bucky, and Steve surrounding the television, watching an episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Lucky was laying across Bucky's lap. Peter almost asked where Lucy was, before remembering that she was most likely with her puppies.

The first words out of Steve's mouth when he saw them was, "Did you eat?"

Peter sighed as he took a seat beside Sam on the couch, pushing the man's feet out of the way, "Yeah. You can ask Bruce."

"Bruce?"

Wow, he really hadn't meant it.

"Yes, Steve. He ate."

The man gave a nod, satisfied. There was a brief pause where they all sat there in silence, Bucky sitting rather stiffly and looking lost in thought, and then Steve fished something out of his pockets, "Oh, I almost forgot. Coulson came by yesterday. He wanted me to give this to you."

He handed Peter a small, sleek, black object that he instantly recognized as… "A pen?"

"I'm not sure why, but Coulson probably has his reasons," Steve told him, "You should probably keep it on you for a while."

Peter nodded, agreeing. He hadn't known the man long (in fact, he'd only seen him a few times) but he'd heard enough stories to know that he knew what he was doing. Whatever the pen was for, even if it was just so Peter could write something down, he wasn't going to question it.

It was a good thing that the new set suit that Tony had made him now had pockets.

"Hey, Bucky," he asked the man suddenly. Bucky turned to him, "How are the puppies?"

"Good," the man responded gruffly, though Peter saw a noticeable change in his body language at the mention of the puppies. The stiffness bled away slightly, replaced by what almost seemed to be a happy expression in his eyes.

Peter rarely ever saw Bucky looking happy. He supposed that living in fear that you might one day wake up and become a killing machine and then killing all your friends did that to a person.

"Can I see them?" Peter asked, trying to hide the excitement in his voice. Wow, he was sounding like a little kid. Still, puppies were puppies. Everyone liked puppies.

Bucky paused for a moment, before giving a nod. He stood up from his spot on the couch, "Sure."

And so the two of them headed to Bucky's room, leaving Steve, Sam, and Bruce. The walk was quiet, as it often was with Bucky. From the snippets of stories that Peter had heard from Steve, the man hadn't always been this way. He supposed that trauma did that to a person.

Bucky led him to Lucy's bed. It was right at the foot of Bucky's own bed, and she was curled up with seven sleeping puppies asleep next to her. The man sat down on the floor, crossing his legs comfortably. Lucy looked up as he did that and he gently scratched behind her ears.

Peter copied Bucky's position on the ground and observed the scene quietly. It was obvious that Bucky cared deeply for the animals. His body was relaxed for the first time that Peter had ever seen him.

"Have you named them yet?" he asked, propping his elbow on his knee and holding his chin in his hand.

Bucky shook his head, "No, they're too young. I want to see what their personality is like first before I decide on a name. Right now, they can't even open their eyes."

Peter realized that that was true. He'd never had a dog before, and had never been around newborn puppies. He was surprised by how small and wrinkly they looked. Their fur was a mixture of black, brown, and white splotches and he was surprised to see one of them looking quite a big smaller than the rest. It was the runt of the litter.

"I was worried about him for a while," Bucky motioned to the smallest dog, "But JARVIS said that his vitals seem to be fine."

He nodded in understanding. He didn't dare reach out and touch one of them. They were way too young and small and fragile. Instead, he sat there and watched as they began to wake up, squirming and whining as they searched for their mother.

Peter smiled lightly as he watched them. When he glanced over, he saw that Bucky was too.

A few days later, Natasha and Clint showed back up from their mission. Peter knew that they couldn't tell him about anything they did with SHIELD, so he didn't ask about it, but he could tell that it had been a brutal mission. Clint had come back with a sprained wrist, and Natasha had sported various bruises. It was rare for them to get injured, but not unheard of.

Peter was surprised when he walked downstairs one Saturday morning and saw Natasha standing there, dressed in casual jeans and a hoodie, a large bruise covering her right cheek that she didn't even bother covering up, and said, "You're late."

He stared at her for a moment, confused, "Late for what?"

"Training."

"We don't train until after lunch," he countered, confused since it was only nine. Mornings on Saturdays were used for homework and studying, though he had honestly not done anything that day, "And Steve's at the gym."

She shook her head, "We aren't training with the group today. I'm taking you out to do some balance exercises."

"Balance exercises," he repeated, confused.

She simply nodded, "Come on. Happy is waiting for us outside."

Completely baffled, he followed her towards the elevator, knowing better than to argue with Natasha. She always got her way.

Besides, he was curious as to what she had planned, anyway. He had, surprisingly, gotten a lot closer to the woman lately. Their relationship still mostly revolved around training, since he worked with her the most out of everyone, but it was much more comfortable and less… formal. She didn't just feel like his trainer anymore.

"Okay, so where exactly are we going?" he asked her as he climbed in the car beside her. She just smirked at him, not answering.

Ten minutes later, they pulled a Skating Rink.

He stared at the building for a long time, mind trying to wrap around the fact that Natasha was taking him skating.

"Come on, I don't have all day," Natasha huffed, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the building, "Clint and I come here a lot. It helps us unwind and is good for balance."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing as he followed behind the woman, "You and Clint go skating?"

She shot him a glare and he quickly shut his mouth. Right. It would not be a good idea to tease Black Widow. He would probably wake up tied to a pole.

She reached the front desk, handed the man some money, and asked for two pairs of skates. Peter was surprised when she asked for his shoe size, as he hadn't told her it, but then reasoned that she was a super spy.

"Alright, put them on," she paused, glancing at him, "You do know how to skate, right?"

"Of course," he huffed, slightly offended as he put the skates on. Though, he did have to admit, he hadn't skated since he was twelve. Things were just always too busy.

Once the two of them sported the ugly, tan colored skates, Natasha ushered him onto the rink. He nearly ran straight into a little girl but his spidey sense warned him just in time to veer to the left.

He was Spider-Man. Balance was his middle name. It only took him a short moment for his brain to remember the times at the skating rink from three years prior and he shot off after Natasha, who was flying around the rink as if she owned it.

It was… nice. The music was loud and a bit obnoxious, and there were several times when little kids nearly ran straight into him (he thanked his spidey sense for helping him dodge), but it was rather relaxing. He could see why Clint and Natasha would unwind there. When he skated laps around the rink, he forgot about everything going on in his life. He still preferred swinging around the city, but this was definitely fun.

Of course, it was also nice to race Natasha around the rink. Out of everyone, she was probably the one that he spent the least free time with. It was comforting to hear her laugh whenever she sped past him.

For the first time since the incident, he just focused on having fun.

They spent the entire day at the rink and didn't get back to the tower until after dinner. They had eaten out for both lunch and dinner, and Peter found it both odd and relaxing spending the day with Natasha. She seemed much more relaxed the whole day than he had ever seen her.

When they arrived back at the tower, however, Natasha escaped to the gym to train with Clint, giving Peter the impression that the woman really hadn't been training with Peter the entire day. A part of him liked that. Spending time with team outside of training was always fun and he rarely ever spent time with Natasha unless it was something like a Movie Night.

Now that he thought about it, a lot of the team had been doing that lately. Sam had enlisted his help in cooking quite a few times, Tony was dragging him down to the lab more and more often, and Steve had even tried to help him with his homework (something that he really didn't need help in, but humored the man anyway).

A small smile on his face, Peter briefly stopped by the Main Floor where he found Sam and Steve sitting in the living room in some kind of deep discussion. They fell silent the moment he entered.

"Hey," he greeted, raising his eyebrows in surprise at the serious looks on their faces, "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. SHIELD stuff. It isn't anything you need to worry about," Sam brushed it off with a shrug. He stood up and stretched lightly, "I think I'll head back to my floor for the night. No skipping training tomorrow."

Peter grinned lightly, "Wasn't really my choice."

Sam just laughed lightly and walked past him, ruffling his hair on the way to the elevator.

Once he was gone, Steve turned to him, "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah," Peter responded with a nod, "Surprisingly, it was a lot of fun. Never really found skating to be so enjoyable, but it was."

The super-soldier nodded, "You have your homework done?"

"Most of it. I'll get it done before class tomorrow," Peter promised.

It was weird. Never would he have imagined promising Captain America that he would do his homework. It was even weirder how normal it felt.

"Okay," Steve said with another nod, "Make sure you take that pen from Coulson with you. I'm not sure why it's important, but it obviously is if Coulson wants you to have it."

Peter raised his eyebrows. He'd inspected the pen thoroughly and couldn't find anything remarkable about it. It seemed like just a normal pen. A part of him was beginning to agree with Tony's theory about the guy just being a bit insane. Briefly, he debated just lying and leaving it in his room, but his spidey sense buzzed just at the thought.

Odd.

"Alright, I will," he nodded.

"And don't stay out too late. You have school tomorrow," Steve said, arms crossed, "You may be able to handle more than most, but I don't want to get a call from your teacher saying that you fell asleep in class."

"Okay," Peter laughed lightly. He couldn't help it. He was in a good mood and having Captain America acting so fatherly was just a bit comical in his eyes. It was also a bit annoying, and more than a bit touching, "I'll try and be back by midnight."

And with that, Peter gave the man a wave and headed to the elevator, completely unaware of what was to come.

He really should have known that good things wouldn't last.

He was swinging around on his webs, simply enjoying the night. It had been a slow night crime-wise. He'd passed time with smaller things, such as helping a lost child find his parents and finding a lost dog and returning it to its owners. He'd had to stop a guy from robbing a store, but that was the worst that had gone on.

He was almost ready to just head back home and get to bed early when he heard a scream. A low buzzing in his mind had him swinging towards it.

It was a woman. She was on her knees in the middle of an alley, tears streaming down her face and hands held above her head. A man stood above her, pointing a gun at her head.

"Really?" Peter asked, eyebrows raised as he swung in and landed directly in front of them, "Holding a woman up? Where anyone can see? You criminals just get dumber and dumber."

He shot a web at the gun, yanking it out of his grasp and then webbing the weapon high on the wall.

The man threw a sloppy punch at him that he dodged effortlessly. He socked him in the jaw just hard enough to cause him to stumble backwards into the wall, then shot his web, sticking him to the surface.

"Dumber and easier to catch," he responded with a sigh, scratching his forehead.

The man yelled at him through the webbing but he just gave him a smile, though it was invisible through the mask, "Don't worry. You'll have a nice time in jail. I'm sure everyone will want to hear the story of how you were caught by the one and only Spiderman! You'll probably get a lot of friends. I'm sure there's quite a few others in there who will share your hate for me. Ooh, I wonder if they have a Spiderman Hate Club. That'd be pretty neat and-"

He was cut off as his Spidey Sense roared to life. He ducked out of the way just in time as a dart shot past his ear.

"What the-"

He didn't have time to finish before another dart nearly hit his leg. Suddenly, there were dozens of little darts flying through the air. He spun, contorting himself to avoid all of them. Once he avoided one, another narrowly sunk into his skin.

He caught sight of the woman, cowering in the corner, looking terrified. His gaze flew upwards and he spotted several figures standing on the roofs, holding what looked like rifles and shooting at him as if trained assassins.

"Seriously?" he yelled out. He jumped onto the wall, sticking there and attempting to scale it, only to be forced to jump back down when a dart narrowly missed his bicep.

He shot a web out, snagging one of the guns, but didn't even have time to dispose of it before being forced to jump five feet in the air to avoid another dart.

There was too many of them. He got a hold of another gun. Then another. Each time he got one, it felt like they just gained two more.

He needed help.

Suddenly, a memory hit him full force. It felt like from forever ago, when in reality it wasn't even a few months.

Steve's voice echoed in his mind, "This is a com. I'd like for you to wear it while you're out. You don't have to say anything unless something goes wrong."

He had never had to use the little black object before, but he'd worn it nonetheless.

His hand flew up to the object in his ear and switched it on.

"Cap?" he said quickly, dodging another dart. He shot his web to the gun and flung it down the alley. It hit the ground and skidded over a few feet away from the woman, "Cap? Iron Man? Got a bit of a situation."

There was some static, and then Steve's voice sounded, "On our way."

Relief flooded through him. There might be way too many for him, but he was sure that the team could get him out of this. Who even were these people?

He shot another web. It attached itself to a gun. Before he could pull it out of the man's hands, his Spidey Sense erupted.

He didn't have time to dodge before a dart lodged itself in his calf. A gasp escaped his lips and he stumbled, the poison taking effect immediately.

That wasn't right. He should be able to handle just one dart, shouldn't he? He could handle more than the average man.

Obviously, this wasn't an average dart.

He fell to his knees, feeling weak and sluggish. His head glanced to where the dart had come from. It had been much closer than the others and after getting used to the time it took for a dart to travel from the roof to him, he'd been unprepared to have one so close.

The woman that he had saved only moments before now stood there, holding the gun up and keeping it trained on him. A wide smirk now spread over her face as she slowly walked to the man webbed to the wall and began to attempt to pull the webbing off.

"No," he breathed.

"Spiderman," Steve's urgent voice echoed in his ear, though it seemed fainter than it should, "Spiderman, do you read? Spiderman?"

As he fell forward, the last thing he saw was the woman walk over to him. As she leaned forward, her jacket rode up and gave him a view of the HYDRA symbol etched into her shirt.

"Spiderman, we're almost there. Just hold on a… little… longer…"

The world faded away.

AN: Alright, guys. I'm super sorry that this chapter took so long. Life just kind of got in the way of things... and so did my procrastination. I hope this chapter made up for it.

Now, originally, the ending scene wasn't going to be until the end of the next chapter. I was supposed to have some fluffy stuff going on, such as Peter baking with Sam and such, but I felt like I needed to get the action started.

Now, I will warn you that I am not sure when the next chapter will be up. I've just entered my Senior Year of High School and I'm taking three AP classes, participating in the Debate Team, Model UN, Spanish Club, and Creative Writing Club, AND I have to do the Senior Project (which is really complicated and annoying) while preparing to take the SAT and looking into colleges and stuff. So, I kind of have a full plate. I'll do my best to update as fast as I can, however.

ALSO! I think I should find a Beta reader... so if you're interested, shoot me a message.

So, I'd love to hear any theories you guys might have. What does the pen do? Who's leaving stuffed animals in Peter's room? Why does HYDRA want Peter? Leave it in a review!

Thanks for reading!