Author's Note: It's been awhile. Sorry for the delay! Summer is here so I should have some more free time to update. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
"Family is everything. Family comes first. It's not what I expected it to be, but nothing ever is."
― Madonna
"I would advise you against that, sir." JARVIS' accented voice fills the room.
Peter grimaces and tugs off his mask, the material easily slipping off. The teenager spins around, turning away from the open glass window and sighs.
"Gwen needs me." He growls. "Now, I may be just a 'kid'," He mocks the words with air quotes. "But I'll be damned if I just sit here—"
"Peter." It's the first time the A.I. had used his first name. "I'm connected to Oscorp's feed and am monitoring Miss Stacy's condition." A television screen begins to lower down from the ceiling. "Rest assured, should the situation change, I shall be the first to notify you."
"Gwen." He breathes, voice barely above a whisper as he takes in his girlfriend's unconscious form, blood staining her cream lab coat crimson. He can't tell if she's breathing from the distance the video is being shot, but he wants nothing more then to go to her and get the medical attention she needs.
"If you go to her, you will be playing into Oscorp's hands." JARVIS continues, and Peter marvels at the inflection in the A.I.'s tone, almost sounding like a concerned friend instead of a computer program. "Trust in the team. They will save her."
"I just . . ." Everything in him screams for him to put his mask back on and web sling to Oscorp. He'd lost his uncle and almost his aunt. He can't risk losing Gwen now too.
But if he does go and things do go wrong and he ends up a prisoner of Oscorp, that will cause more trouble for everyone. Gwen is, quite simply, bait. If he goes, he'll be falling for the trap. What good will that do for her? For all he knows, she might just be leverage and once he shows up, they might kill her anyways.
"Damn." He runs his hand through his hair and sighs raggedly.
"Oh, good, you're up." Bruce stands in the doorway, cleaning his glasses on his lab coat. His brow is furrowed and there are some tension lines around his eyes. He pinches the bridge of his nose and then slides the glasses back on. "Do I need to examine your head? Clint told me you fell."
"I'm fine." Peter grinds out.
"You were planning on leaving?" The doctor gestures to the window, his gaze narrowing.
"I was." Peter confirms.
"But you chose not to." Bruce concludes as he steps further into the room, glancing at the monitor now.
"For right now." The teen murmurs.
Bruce opens his mouth to say something, and then shuts it once more. He instead comes to stand next to the teen. After a few moments of hesitation, he places a hand on the teen's shoulder, silently offering his support.
"Get changed." Bruce orders softly. "I'll make you some green tea. We can wait this out together."
Numbly, Peter just nods.
It turns out that Bruce is a bit of a tea connoisseur.
As Peter watches Bruce opens the pantry, his careful gaze catalogs all the boxes that are seemingly piled on the shelves. Black tea, herbal teas, even weird obscure ones like Hibiscus—Bruce has them all. Some of the labels are even in different languages and as the doctor pulls out a box of loose leaves, the teenager can't help but wonder what he's in store for. The only tea he has had before this was just straight in a bag, basic black tea. His aunt was the only one who drank it, with his uncle preferring black coffee.
"You seem surprised." Bruce remarks softly, measuring out two servings of the leaves. He places them in a sphere that he then places in two mugs. A few moments later, the doctor is pouring steaming water over the leaves. He reaches for two plates and places them on top of the mugs, trapping the steam.
"I just never really pegged you as a tea guy." The teen mutters.
"Yeah, well," Bruce shrugs, a tired grin on his lips. "Tea can help calm pretty much anyone down."
There's silence for a few moments as Peter watches the small wisp of steam escape from underneath the plate.
"I'm not a little kid." He feels compelled to say, almost petulantly. "I've been doing the whole Spider-Man thing for almost two years before you guys showed up. I know what I'm doing."
"No one is saying you're not capable, Peter." Bruce points out softly. The timer beeps and he removes the plates and the tea bags. Gently, he pushes the cup towards the teen and offers him some cream and sugar.
"Fury thinks I'm just a kid." Peter growls, pouring the cream in. Grabbing a spoon, he stirs the white liquid in, turning the tea into a creamy mocha color. "The others obviously do too. They left me here, like I'm a—"
"A member of our team who is in danger." The doctor completes, placing his own spoon aside and taking a sip of his tea.
"We don't know what Oscorp wants exactly—"
"Peter," Bruce chides somewhat. "Look, this is what being part of a team is all about."
"Being left behind? Being lied to?" He snaps.
"No," Bruce shakes his head. "Look, no one on this team is perfect. I mean," He gestured to himself. "Look at me. If anyone deserves to be treated badly, it's me." He stirs his tea, almost absently, and sighs. "A few years ago, I nearly destroyed this city."
"Bruce, I didn't mean it like that." The teenager mutters apologetically.
"This team looks out for each other." The older man replies. "And sometimes, we go about it all the wrong ways, but end of the day, we look after our own." He reaches forward and places a hand on the younger hero's shoulder. "I know how much you want to go to Gwen. Believe me, I get it." He drops his gaze as the flash of grief tinges his eyes. "But if Oscorp gets their hands on you, who know what they'll do to you?"
"But Gwen—"
"She would want you safe." Bruce points out. "Besides, this isn't the team's first rescue mission. Have a little faith." He smiles and Peter huffs out a laugh.
"I get that." He says softly. "I just wish I could be there."
"I know, Peter." The doctor replies quietly. "I know."
"Mr. Osborn!" The young secretary shouts, jumping up from her desk as she sprints to the back bedroom. She flings open the wooden door and winces as it slams against the back wall.
"What?" The bedridden figured growls, his eyes narrowing as he takes in his secretary's frazzled appearance.
"Sir, there's a situation in Lab 12." She whispers, wishing that she hadn't checked the security camera feeds, wishing that she hadn't seen Dr. Lahey shoot that young intern. "Sir . . ." She tries to steady her pounding heart, but to no avail.
"Out with it!" Mr. Osborn snaps.
"Dr. Lahey shot an intern and the Avengers have been sighted heading towards us."
"And Spider-Man?" Mr. Osborn asks quickly, almost eager and excited.
"I didn't see him, sir." She replies, a bit perplexed. "Sir, the intern? I'll call an ambulance!"
"No!" Mr. Osborn roars and for the first time in what seems like an eternity, the lights turn on in the room.
"Mr. Osborn . . . ?" She can't remember the last time she's seen him look so sickly. His skin has the pallor of a corpse; his eyes are bloodshot and as he pushes himself out of bed, he almost sways to the side coming precariously close to falling to the ground.
"Get me a phone." Her boss snaps at her and flustered, she heads to her desk and pulls out the cordless phone. Returning back to the bedroom, she sees Mr. Osborn is dressed and it reminds her so much of the charismatic leader that she used to adore before he got sick.
"Here." She hands him the phone and she waits, unsure of what she should do next.
"Leave." He growls.
"But sir, the intern—"
"Leave!" He roars and she quickly returns to her desk.
She doesn't know what is going on, but judging from the way things are turning out, this could be the end of Oscorp as she knows it.
"Please get here quickly." She whispers, waiting for the Avengers to show up.
She may be clueless, but she isn't dumb. Whatever is happening is serious and she'll need to be ready to get out should it come to that.
She hopes it won't.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed! Please review if you have a moment. Thanks!