To Peter, Spider-Man was a symbol.
A symbol of hope, of strength. The day he first became Spider-Man was the happiest day of his life. He finally felt like he was worth something. That his existence had meaning. After that day, he never turned back.
The life of a hero was hard—Peter would never deny it. Being a hero meant lying to the people he cared about to protect them. It meant putting himself in harm's way day in and day out. It meant getting hurt and having no choice but to get back up again. Despite it all, Peter never regretted becoming Spider-Man.
For so long he tried to make Peter Parker and Spider-Man two different people. He tried to push the pains of heroism away from his regular life. He tried to keep the life of a normal kid. But that couldn't last. Eventually, they became one.
He missed Spider-Man. It was time he returned.
Of course there were a few problems with this. He needed a suit and web shooters. Both of which would be hard to acquire.
The web fluid and web shooters could possibly be made at SI. Everyone was working on their own projects so he would be able to play it off as being part of his project. Though he would have to be careful that no one asks too many questions. If he was working on the web shooters one day and someone sees, then the next day Spider-Man appears…
Let's just say his secret identity wouldn't be much of a secret.
The suit would be more difficult. He couldn't exactly keep that a secret if he worked on it. He also couldn't use what he first used as a suit. Sweatpants and a hoodie stitched together offered no protection at all. If he was going to be Spider-Man again, he needed to try and keep himself from getting too hurt. People were already suspicious of him, if he started showing up with more bruises or injuries people would start asking questions.
Peter spent the rest of the day going over his web fluid formula in his mind. He had made it so many times, it had become like second nature.
When it started to get dark, Peter realised he needed to start walking to the bar for work. Peter couldn't say he was upset to have some nights off from his work, but his funds were running low so it was time to earn more.
Pushing open the door to the bar, Peter was immediately assaulted by the smell and sounds he had long since started to associate with his work place.
Yells, sweat, alcohol.
It was horrible, but you got used to it after a while.
Peter walked over to the bar, searching for Weasel. But the counter he was usually at was empty. He said hello to a few people as he walked over to his usual spot and washed his hands to prepare for service. Suddenly he heard a voice from behind him.
"Spider!"
Whipping his head around, Peter smiled at Weasel, who was walking towards him with his arms out. He was soon engulfed in a warm hug by the man. Peter let out a small groan of pain when Weasel squeezed too hard, disrupting his healing ribs.
"Shit, sorry kid," He said, unwrapping himself. Peter smiled and waved him off.
"It's all good, don't worry about it," Peter responded.
"Well you know the drill, you're on bar tonight. Call me over when Wade gets here, I need to talk to you both," Weasel added, before walking away. Peter turned around to ask why, but the man was already gone.
Eventually, Peter turned back towards the waiting customers and started serving drinks. Peter had long since gotten used to the way the bar worked, moving swiftly around the counter to make drinks while talking to regular customers.
A couple regulars asked where he had been, to which Peter had told them he got attacked. But he didn't tell them the reason. They all started to tell Peter he should learn how to run away, to which Peter just laughed and responded that he would join a track team at school.
"I'm serious kid, you're the size and strength of a twig. We can't have you getting beat up on the regular," a man said earnestly, putting down his drink as he spoke.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, I'll be fine," Peter waved off the man, passing someone else their drink.
An hour or two passed without much excitement. It was a Monday night after all, no one other than some regulars and a few drunks that were scattered around the counter and tables. Which Peter was thankful for, the encounter with the voice had made him surprisingly tired that day. That, plus his still healing ribs, made Peter glad that he didn't have to run around the bar all night.
"Kid!"
Peter smiled at the sight of Wade walking into the bar. Putting a glass he was cleaning to the side, he said:
"Hey Wade. Let me get Weasel, he told me to call him when you–", only to be cut off by Wade coming over to the other side of the bar and grabbing his face.
At first, Peter was confused. He seemed to be mumbling something to himself as he looked Peter up and down. Eventually, Peter realised Wade was checking him over for injuries. Tilting his head to the side, Wade checked for bruising or scratches or anything that wasn't completely healed.
"Wade, I'm fine," Peter reasoned, trying to get out of Wade's protective grip. Wade loosened his grip, but still held onto him.
"No, Weasel told me what happened. You can't be fine," Wade said, refusing to listen to Peter's protests.
"Wade! Let the kid go. You're scaring him," Weasel said with a sigh as he walked over to the bar from the back room.
Wade took his hands off of Peter's face and instead put his arm around Peter's shoulders, turning back to look at the bar owner. Peter leaned into the touch, his head resting on Wade's shoulder as the two adults spoke.
"I'm just making sure he's ok, look at him. He looks like a sad puppy." Wade said, gesturing to his face. Peter rolled his eyes in response.
"He looks like that because you are squashing him with your presence," Weasel said flatly. "Anyways, I called you here for a reason."
The three made their way over to a table and sat down, Peter awkwardly followed—unsure of what was going on. Was it something to do with one of Wade's jobs? If so, Peter wanted nothing to do with it. But he sat down anyway to hear what the men had to say.
"I want Wade to give you some lessons," Weasel said easily once the three had sat down.
"What kind of lessons?" Peter asked slowly, his hands fighting in his lap as he looked between the bar owner and mercenary.
"Fighting."
"What–" Peter began, confused as to what Weasel was suggesting. Did they want to train him to be like Wade? Did they want to make him a mercenary? He couldn't do that. He couldn't–
"What he means is that he wants me to teach you how to punch back so you don't become a human pancake in a back alley," Wade clarified.
Oh.
Peter mentally slapped himself for assuming the worst. He had to get better at that. Actually, that wouldn't be too bad. If he was going to be Spider-Man again, he would need a way to train. Getting Wade to teach him a few moves would definitely help. More than help even.
Back before the time jump he didn't really train that much. He didn't have the time with school or even a place to train. He couldn't risk trying different moves in his apartment and accidentally breaking something.
The only other time he had was when he would hang out with Mr. Stark, and that time was for lab sessions. That was a time for him to just be Peter Parker.
But those few times he did train always helped a lot. So Peter wasn't going to turn down the chance to be taught how to not get himself killed. It was a helpful skill to say the least.
"If you want to, that is," Wade added, looking over at Peter who only then realised he was staring at the table. Snapping his eyes up to look at Wade, Peter said:
"No, yes. I mean, Yes. I would like that. For you to teach me, that would be good," Peter stammered through his sentences.
Weasel and Wade laughed lightly as Peter finished talking. He smiled shyly and his cheeks turned red at the laughter. Clearing his throat, Peter asked:
"When do we start?"
With a smirk, Wade responded "Now."
"Wait what?" Peter asked, looking up at the man as he stood up from the chair. Didn't he have work now?
As if he could hear his thoughts, Weasel said, "Don't worry about the rest of the shift, it's a slow night anyway. We have an area out back for you guys to have your little lesson. Don't kill him Wade."
With a dramatic gasp, Wade responded "I would never!"
Standing up from the table, Weasel started to walk towards the bar. He was laughing to himself and shaking his head. Peter swore he could hear him say "yeah whatever" under his breath but didn't say anything. He wasn't supposed to be able to hear it anyway.
Peter followed Wade into a room out the back he had never been into before. It had a mat covering half the floor on one side, then on the other side had a punching bag and some weights.
Peter let himself be led over to the mats where he and Wade took off their jackets and put them to the side.
"There are two things you need to know to stay alive," Wade began as he walked to the centre of the mat, Peter in tow. "Number 1, how to hit hard. One hit, if hard enough, can end a fight if you get it in the right spot. Number 2, how to dodge. Doesn't matter how hard you can hit if you can't stay away from someone else's fist."
Peter nodded along, that seemed reasonable enough.
"We are going to start with dodging."
As Wade began to demonstrate and explain the best way to dodge different hits, Peter realised that not only did he not normally train, but he never really had a fighting lesson.
When he first started, he had searched up videos of fighting methods. But they were always hard to follow along and under-explained. Or when they were good, it was a bad quality video. In the end, he had to figure it all out through trial and error. Which looking back hadn't been the best policy. He was super lucky he didn't get himself killed on his first patrol.
He got hurt in his first few weeks, but never too much. That might have been the only time in his life that Peter had been super lucky. Not that he was mad about that, any luck was better than none.
Eventually, Wade got Peter to try some dodging moves slowly. He tried to remember all the details he had just been told, not wanting to mess up on his first try.
"Not bad," Wade said, nodding his head approvingly, "try this."
Wade nudged his foot to change his stance and got him to try again. Peter let out a smile, it was already easier to turn out of the way. Helpful.
The two kept going, trying different dodges for different hits coming from different directions. Wade even showed him how to fall safely if he did get hit. Though they didn't focus on it for too long to avoid aggravating Peter's ribs.
As time passed, Wade started to speed up his fist so he could try dodging at different speeds. He found it hard at the start, he was a little out of shape and a lot of time had passed since he last did anything like this. Though Peter quickly fell back into the swing of things and his body started to flow more naturally, bending his body out of the way of Wade's fist time after time until the fists came to a stop.
"You're a better student than I thought you'd be," Wade remarked, his hands resting on his hips as he looked Peter over.
Copying his stance, Peter responded, "You're a better teacher than I thought you'd be."
"Rude Spider boy."
Peter smiled at the memory the nickname brought up. Tony used to call him that sometimes. Though it was one of many nicknames he had through his time with him; Spider boy, Spidey, Underoos, kid, Bambino. The list went on.
"That reminds me, you got a name kid? Or am I supposed to call you Spider?" Wade asked as he motioned for Peter to follow him over to the punching bag.
He could trust Wade, right?
"Peter. It's Peter."
Sticking out his hand for Peter to shake, Wade smiled, "Nice to meet you Peter."
"Likewise."
Wade moved to stand to the left side of the punching bag, holding it with one hand he began to explain.
"The key to street fighting is to be patient. A lot of bullies waste their energy trying to land the most punches on their victim. To fight back and stay alive, all it takes is for you to get one hit in. But you gotta make it count. Choose your spot and drive through it. Let's wrap your hands, then give it a go."
Wade walked over to a cupboard and pulled out something to wrap his hands. After carefully wrapping his hands and tapping it into place, he demonstrated a fighting stance and made some slight corrections to Peter's stance.
Eventually he took his place behind the punching bag and gripped it carefully, telling Peter to try a few punches at the bag.
"Punch like you're aiming for something 6 inches beyond the bag," Wade added before both of them took their spots.
Peter knew he couldn't hit with all of his strength, even if that was what Wade was telling him to do. If he did, he would send the punching bag flying. On top of that, Peter didn't really know his own strength in his not-well-fed body. He didn't want to hurt the person who was trying to teach him.
So Peter settled on holding back, just to be safe.
He threw his fist at the bag softly, well, soft by his standards at least. He expected Wade to critique his technique and so looked at the man expectantly. But he didn't.
"You can do better than that, harder."
Oh. In truth Peter didn't really know how hard the average person hits compared to him, maybe he was dulling it down a lot? Adding a bit more force, Peter tried again.
Yet Wade still wasn't satisfied.
"You can hit harder than that, stop holding back. Again."
And so it continued, with Peter hitting progressively with more force and Wade telling him to do it again but stronger.
hit.
"Harder."
hit.
"I know you have more strength than that."
hit.
"Again."
hit.
Eventually, Wade's words changed.
Instead of words of encouragement or advice, his words turned harsher. Peter started to get irritated but bit his tongue to not start an argument.
hit.
"Are you that weak? Again."
hit.
"Pathetic."
hit.
"No wonder you got beat up."
hit.
"No wonder you're alone."
Suddenly, Wade and the punching bag were on the other side of the room. The punching bag in question, now had a hole in which sand was streaming out of.
Shit. He had meant to control his strength but the words had sunk into his brain and clouded his judgement. How was he going to cover this up? No one, let alone a kid, could punch a person and a punching bag to the other side of the room.
Then, Peter heard laughing from the other side of the room. Snapping his head over to look, Peter realised Wade was standing up and lightly laughing to himself.
"I knew it!" He yells, punching his arm in the air as he walks over to Peter who sent him a confused stare.
"What?"
"I called it. You have powers!" Wade said, grabbing both of Peter's shoulders and shaking them with excitement.
When Peter tried to talk back, he put his finger over Peter's mouth and added, "Don't even try to talk your way out of this one. No normal person could do that," he gestured over to the broken punching bag on the other side of the room, "Let alone send me flying with it!"
Walking over to a bench to take a seat, Wade threw Peter a water bottle. Without thinking about it, Peter caught it.
"Besides, that punching bag was made for people with super strength, you shouldn't have been able to make a dent at all."
Peter sighed and slumped down next to Wade on the bench. There was no use trying to talk his way out of it, the evidence was damning. Settling for giving in, Peter asked:
"How did you know?"
"It was more of an educated guess really. Weasel told me what happened to you, you should still be covered in bruises or at least a scratch. Trust me, I've been in a lot of fights, I know. Yet you come in today, 2 days later with not a scratch on you." Wade paused to take a sip out of his own water bottle before continuing.
"So it's either you lied about getting beat up, which no offence you're too much of a goodie two shoes for that, or you heal fast. And the super strength, well just we worked out for almost 2 hours and you aren't even puffed or sweating. The punching bag just confirmed it."
Peter had to admit, the guy was smart. Most people didn't think twice about that kind of stuff, too caught up in their own world.
Unable to stop himself, Peter asked, "Why did you say all that shit to me though?"
Putting a hand on Peter's shoulder, Wade calmly replied, "I didn't mean it, you did good. Better than good, but I could tell you were holding back. People stop holding back when they're mad. I wanted to see what you were capable of."
The room resolved into silence as the two drank their water and took a breather. When the silence stretched on for too long, Wade asked.
"So how'd you get your powers?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Peter responded with a laugh, looking over at the man.
"Try me, kid."
"I got bit by a radioactive spider," Peter said plainly, almost laughing at the expression Wade made at that, though he kept it in.
"Shit, you're gonna have to show me all your powers next time," Wade concluded, standing up from the bench and stretching.
"There's going to be a next time?" Peter asked hopefully.
Looking back at him, Wade responded "Of course there is gonna be a next time, you think I'm going to let a teen with superpowers run around the city untrained? You'll break every door handle in the city."
Now Peter really laughed, he did that all the time when he first got his powers.
The thing was, Peter didn't just want to learn to control his powers, he wanted to help people again. He wanted to take down bad guys. Without thinking Peter blurted out.
"I need you to teach me how to take down bad guys."
"What?"
With a deep breath, Peter stood up. His hand we're fidgeting, though he didn't know why. Turning to look at the mercenary he began to explain.
"I have these powers, and I can help people. So I should. And if I don't, doesn't that make me just like them? If everyone who could help did help, then the world wouldn't need the Avengers or heroes at all. I just want to make a difference."
"You're a kid," Wade tried to reason.
"A kid who can throw a car with his bare hands. Look, I just want to help people. The Avengers save the world, but they don't save the people from the everyday burglars and thugs. I want to be what the people wish the Avengers were. Please, I need your help," Peter pleaded.
Wade rubbed his temple with his hands and thought to himself. Peter stressed for a second, what if he didn't help? What if he told someone about his power?
"You're gonna do this with or without my help, aren't you?" Wade asked, and Peter nodded. "Fine, I'll help. But just to keep you alive. I don't need a kid's death on my ledger."
Peter almost screamed with joy but kept it inside. Instead, he simply said.
"I need a suit."
With a laugh, Wade asked, "You got some ideas?" Peter just nodded in response, more than a few ideas, "I might know a guy."
Every universe needs a Spider-Man, right?