Chapter Seven: Fly

Peter follows the momentum of his fall immediately, leaning into the plummeting angle of his smarting back and swinging through the air in a back flip.

Luckily the bars protecting the window seem to have warped much like the van had last night, not completely snapped off like he's managed in the past so thankfully nothing is sent flying towards the unsuspecting civilians below.

His arms propel against the wind and Peter breathes through his nose as he's flipped fully and catches his reflection falling with him in the glass of the tower. A web shoots out, closing the minute distance between him and the tower and he palms the side of the building, sliding down a small bit before activating his stickers and gluing himself to the surface.

A blanket of silence sucks the near deafening sound of the fwipping wind from his ears like a vacuum, and for a moment all he can hear is the heaving of his own breath, the faint whir of traffic miles below almost a soothing balm.

"You are just one nifty little guy, aren't you?" Peter jolts, swinging his head to look over his shoulder as he tenses like a coil. Homelander floats down further until he's level next to him in the air, scanning his stuck form on the tower, seemingly impressed.

"Here I was planning to save you, but clearly that wasn't necessary. Oh, you're fun. Bugs-" Homelander interrupts his own steadily growing excitement by shaking his head, an expansive, pleased grin on his face. The man chuckles a bit as he points his finger at him, the other hand placed firmly on his hip, anger seemingly completely washed clean as he regards him not unkindly. "I can already tell that this- You and me, right here? Is going to be great."

"Um..." Peter shifts in his hold a bit, bracing himself in case he needs to jump off the building to avoid a spontaneous laser, heart plucking violently at attention. If Homelander's motivations are to entirely freak Peter the heck out, he sure is succeeding. "Can I, um… Please come back inside now?"

He says it so quietly he wonders if Homelander can even hear him over the wind but the man hums, waving a gloved hand up flippantly as he stares at him with amusement and intrigue, unmoving against gravity. "Yeah, sure bud. Have at it."

Peter takes another breath before crawling up the tower under a pin-pricking gaze, hand gripping the glass peppered ledge of the room they had been in as he reaches it. This sucks.

He hauls himself inside with both his hands through the gap in the bars, gaze instantly meeting Translucent's wide-eyed, disbelieving stare from his place still sat rigid in his chair. Alert, Peter hooks a knee over the edge and leverages himself back into the room. This really sucks.

He shuffles further inside as he gets to his feet, dropping his gaze to spandex spread over them briefly as he can hear the breeze shift over his shoulder and Homelander flutters back into the room, boots landing on the platform behind him with a solid thunk. This really, really sucks.

!

"Full of surprises, this one." Peter flinches as Homelander pats him solidly on the back, hand lingering for an uncertain moment before he drags it off when Peter doesn't look at him and walks past him towards the slowly opening doorway of the room.

Homelander swipes up the discarded pen and paper from the table as he passes, waving at them over his shoulder without a glance back, unperturbed by the eerie silence surrounding his stiff movements, glass crunching beneath languidly stomping boots. "Give the newbie a tour, will you Tranny? And no more funny fucking business, you fucking pedo. I'll still be watching, listening…"

The end curl of Homelander's cape disappears around the corner of the door. Peter looks over at Translucent in the sudden silence, nervous, only to blink as his gaze is met with empty space, the man's abandoned chair rolled out ominously.

Okay, it's fine, Peter, you're just, contract bound, by some super, freakily strong superheroes, who have tried to kill you… you more than… than once…

Just a r-regular, old, Tuesday…

!

Peter springs halfway across the room as the slight sound of skin brushing against concrete sends his still attuned bells ringing, pulse hammering behind his eyes as he scans the seemingly empty room.

"Jeez, you're tense, kid." A beat of silence. Peter can feel the man's stare on him, hair standing on end.

Translucent huffs, ambling somewhere near an ionic pillar sitting next to the exit Homelander had walked through, sounding impatient and surprisingly not at all like he'd been strangled unconscious hours before. "Sooo, I guess you're going to have to follow the sound of my beautiful voice, kapeesh? Com-fucking-prendo? We'll put those freaky little bug senses of yours to good use."

As Translucent's voice tapers off with an unfeeling chuckle, indicating he had started walking into the hallway, Peter forces his tense stance to settle, exhaling deeply as his shoulders drop and his arms hang limply with forced casualness. His hands curl into loose fists unsurely as he shuffles towards the fading sound with much reluctance.

Once again Peter has stumbled himself into a very bad, very possibly ending in a mortally wounding way, situation. Literally all he had to do was stay low for longer than a couple hours until he could find that portal baddy jerk and subsequently his way back home, and he couldn't even manage that!

Told you so… A voice suspiciously sounding like Aunt May nervously chimes in his head.

Despite having been galaxies away from home before, New York has never felt farther away than at this moment.

At least then he had the knowledge that the expanse of space he was staring at was fleetingly connected to New York- Home. Many, many, many, many lightyears out from home- but home, nonetheless.

There is no familiarity in this universe's skies. A completely different set of galaxies lies up there completely untouched by Peter. At least there aren't any extra solar systems or moons in this universe like he previously pondered, well, as far as he can tell anyway.

They had gone left out of the room, past the large, eerie looking statuesque hung from the wall directly out of the wide doorway, of what seems to be a bit of a daunting adaptation of The Seven members, Homelander standing at the helm with an American flag.

The scene feels strangely reminiscent of those sculptures depicting the Greek gods from mythology, on theme alongside the colosseum-Esque pillars circling the conference room and it only makes the pit in Peter's stomach settle heavier. He's more than happy to have it out of his line of sight as they continue down the hallway, following the near silent slaps of Translucent's bare feet against the tile in front of him despite the man having said he would speak.

Peter isn't dumb, far from it. He is not forgiving enough to completely excuse the man's actions, no, but a part of the equation for Translucent's behavior had become readily apparent the moment Peter saw the look on his face as Homelander's eyes went nuclear.

Complete and unarguable terror had been forced to the surface under the only red light Peter has seen that means go.

MM's and Billy's words keep scrambling in his brain in a mash of colorful language, situationally logical rationalizations, the seemingly lesser evil's attempting to appease to Peter's martyr nature but at the end of the day Peter knows that none of that really matters because it simply shouldn't be up to Peter whether this universe would be better off without them in it or not.

Fundamentally, intentionally or not, Peter is the intruder here, an actual illegal alien. Not Translucent, not Homelander- Peter.

Does he actually have any right to hold bias against the people of this universe and how they've been functioning? After all, how can he possibly hold them up to the same standards of his own and not feel like a complete idiot the entire time? This isn't even remotely the same as the situation on Titan, or when Thanos sent his alien general's to earth at the beginning of the war that fateful day either.

Peter's not protecting what's his to rightfully protect, not encroaching on another planet to save all other planets.

Not killing out of self defense.

This universe's web of fate was never crafted to consider an additional spider, and Peter is beginning to worry he might end up completely snagged like a fly if he's not more careful. He needs to remember that once he leaves this place the people left behind are going to have to deal with the repercussions, not him. Already at least five people's lives have been put in jeopardy, all of which Peter has played a significant, if not direct, role in, and the thought of adding anymore to that already far too long list is misery inducing.

"You sure know how to piss off the right people, kid, I'll give you that." Peter's footsteps slow to a stop as the man's blase tone chimes nearer than he thought it would, uneasily scanning the empty expanse of hallway spread out in front of him. A couple of smartly dressed people standing at the end of the hall send them sparing glances. "So are you supposed to be Homelander's boytoy now or something? If I had known you were sucking the boss's dick I wouldn't have damaged that pretty face of yours so much."

"Excuse me?" Peter blurts, expression curling with disgust and unease as he jolts back a step as a ghost of breath brushes against his face. He can see the people down the hall quickly glance their way once more before turning and quickly walking around the rest of the corner, out of sight. Peter feels his throat tighten at the swift abandonment despite having been silently praying for them to do that exact thing in case this turns physical, frustration and shame sharp and burning. "Stop."

"Hmm." Translucent doesn't say anything else, a brief, weighted silence blanketing their standoff before the soft scrap of his feet on the pavement indicates he had turned around and continued walking again. After a reluctant moment of consideration, Peter follows, gaze lowering to the floor as he rubs at his face, palming his expression from view.

This whole suspicious contract deal, coupled by these guy's down right homicidal behavior and the seemingly never ending insinuations is not painting a very PG picture in Peter's hypervigilant mind, more than aware of the atrocities humanity can be capable of. He feels innately sick and fragile in a way he hasn't felt since-

Since-

Don't. Please. Peter takes in a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut as the memories threaten to tidal wave but that particular tide has never been swayed by what he wants before. Not now. Please please please please-

The graves of those once lost in the snap have since become monuments, staples of the new, post snap world.

A beacon of hope, a physical acknowledgement of how they came back and won. A symbol of how they would now heal together for their surely better, and brighter, future. The embodiments of their crushing defeat now a sign to most of undeniable hope and relief, a place for people to visit all over the globe and celebrate their victory against Thanos and Tony's more than nobel sacrifice.

And yet all it is to Peter is a constant reminder of those he failed. All he can see, taste, feel when he sees those monuments is the crushing, promising grip of Thanos's too wide fingers curling around his neck like a vice and squeezing.

The unfaltering resolve of the gauntlet brushing against his cheek in those last few seconds, jewels shimmering in front of his face like wavering heat on asphalt, so close they must be searing his skin straight from his bones, heady with Thanos's raw fury and ancient, absolute power-

"Feel it for me, Avenger, never forget…"

For a long time all Peter knew was complete, and all consuming, pain.

"Feel it ALL!"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Peter can't breathe as a rough hand yanks him away from the hot, empty space hovering over him. He can't stop shivering can't stop the pain it's never ending god please-

"-othing! Fucking kid started convulsing all of a sudden, you stuck up bitch. Fuck right off!"

Please kill me.

"I heard what you were saying to him you sick fuck. Get out of my fucking face before I start fucking screaming."

"Fucking whatever! Jee-zus!"

"Kid?"

"HEY!"

Peter catches the woman's wrist before her palm can connect with his face, startling the both of them.

He abruptly drops it, sliding back a good couple feet as he swiftly draws in a stronger, steadier breath, eyes flickering around as reality seeps back in alongside bone deep shame. "S-Sorry."

"Don't say that. You're fine, I'm here, you're okay." The soft, feminine tone sends Peter's brain peeling with reluctant, overwhelming relief. He stares up in complete disbelief at the red haired woman stepping into his space, trying to comfort him. The change of pace feels like a slap to the face anyway.

He dimly recognizes her, knows immediately that she's one of The Seven, though he can't remember if he ever found out her name or not, what with how little information he was actually able to get from the computer this morning before MM and Billy stepped in.

Peter almost feels like crying out in relief despite everything as tears traitorously prick at the corners of his vision again. Thank god, they're not all insane!

The woman's hand lowers to her side, slowly curling into a strong fist as she glares darkly over her shoulder with a vivid, threatening snarl. "I swear to fucking god, Translucent, if you don't leave I'll slit your throat in your fucking sleep."

Peter doesn't know when it happens but suddenly he's staring at the floor, noticing a faint black rubber scuff mark from a shoe sole. A stark, nearly invisible stain against the otherwise pristine marble.

!

"Woa-ho-hoooaah, there, Maeve!" Homelander's voice suddenly reaches down the hallway like an amplifier, a cajoling voice intended to specifically draw eyes. The man's steps are steady and swiftly approaching, on a one track path. Peter raises his gaze from the floor, meeting Homelander's waiting eye and the man smiles charmingly down at him almost on instinct, brows furrowing. "Language, Missy! There are young ears listening."

"...Homelander-"

Homelander cuts Translucent off immediately, a wild looking glare dropping over his expression at the flip of a switch as he stops in front of Peter, all pretense of humor so gone it may as well have not existed in the first place. "No. No! You can fuck right off, you fucking disappointment. I gave you one of the simplest jobs and you couldn't even manage that, fucking. Unbelievable. You disgust me. I can't believe we almost didn't have to deal with this shit anymore!"

"What the fuck is this Homelander?Why is he here? You-" Maeve's voice is a deep threat just over Peter's shoulder, he can almost feel the vibration of her throat as the woman's shoulder almost curls protectively over his own as she hisses at the man. "Just, what, exactly, are you trying to play at here?"

"I'm not trying to do anything." Peter can only stare as Homelander smiles placatingly at the woman before the look is focused entirely on him, a gloved hand dropping onto his shoulder and squeezing. "And you'd do best to watch your tone. After all, we wouldn't want our newest member thinking The Seven is just a bunch of creepy assholes with anger issues or anything, right kiddo?"

Yeah, we wouldn't want anything like that to happen or anything… Heaven forbid…

"Right?"

Peter startles as the grip on his shoulder tightens minutely, attention flashing up towards Homelander's warning glance. "Uh-Uh, R-Right… I-I mean… No?"

"See what I mean?" Homelander chuckles, patting his shoulder almost fondly before resettling his grip.

Maeve continues to stare at them with a controlled, if not completely enraged expression as her gaze flickers from Homelander's hand on his shoulder to Peter's face. A look Peter immediately attempts to avoid, staring at the floor and searching out the small rubber smudge because for some reason that feels like a monumentally easier task. "Oh, would you relax? Peter's a good kid, hell, Maeve, I thought this would please you. The kid has a model's physique and a savior syndrome that succeeds even your 'bleeding heart', I mean, seriously, c'mooon, this was meant to be! Peter here was born for the spotlight, you could even say in a way somewhat like I was. Ah- You know what? Why am I even bothering? You'll see. The proof is in the pudding as they say."

"You weren't born for anything." Maeve seethes with startling clarity, a bone deep conviction only a painfully seeded grudge can bear, inching forward as if prowling for an opening. "You were grown and cultivated like a crop that just so happened to ripen as bad product."

"And the kitten finally brings out the claws, me-yow." Homelander pulls Peter forward with surprising gentleness considering the man's quickly clouding expression, a cord clearly having been struck somewhere. "Don't listen to the mean old lady Peter, you're the opposite of bad product. Hell, I'd even go as far as to call you a walking dollar sign."

Homelander spins them abruptly, walking down the hall back the way he had come, forcibly dragging Peter along at his side as his gloved finger taps an almost anxious pattern on the curl of his collar bone. Peter allows himself to be maneuvered silently, not entirely sure he wants to know what the alternative could look like.

"Wait!" Maeve's footsteps are immediate to trail them, her tone the bark of a commander with no soldier's to heed command. "Where are you taking him, huh? Seriously cut the shit, Homelander, what the fuck is your aim?"

"My aim is about to sear your irritating fucking face off." Peter's heart plummets but Homelander merely growls the threat without so much as looking over his shoulder towards his supposed teammate once, picking up speed until they are almost jogging past the conference room Peter had woken up inside and down the hall. "Don't you have anything better to do somewhere, like, I don't know, fucking anywhere but here?"

"Be fucking for real."

Homelander sighs, stiff pace coming to an abrupt halt as he turns towards the door he had stopped in front of, an arm snaking out and around Peter's shoulders and yanking him into a loose, steel beam hold as Peter almost keeps walking. Can he feel my heart beating against his side?

Homelander presses his fingers slightly, grasp all but a loose chokehold but suffocatingly imminent. "Goodbye, Maeve."

"Like hell."

Homelander stiffens at attention at Maeve's growl, his hold on Peter caging in and boarding restrictive as his head snaps over from glaring at the door. Peter can hear Maeve's dry swallow the moment they presumably make eye contact, unable to so much as crane his neck because of Homelander's grip furling a warning around his neck.

"That can be arranged." Homelander eventually sing-songs, tense.

"Fine. I'm going, I'm going… Just…" Maeve relents after a bated silence with an uneasy sigh and for some reason it stings. "Homelander…"

"I'm not a monster, Maeve." Homelander interrupts the wary woman as he loosens his grip casually, sounding almost playfully offended before his tone drops dramatically, spidey tinglingly dead as he turns back to stare at the door. "I'll... Deal with Translucent later."

A pause, the faint shuffle of reluctantly moving footsteps in the opposite direction. "I'll… Talk to you later, Peter?"

Homelander waits until Peter can't hear Maeve's treading feet in distance anymore to lean in and intone quietly. "You speak only when spoken to, understood?" A hesitant nod from Peter. "-And even then, you can only say yes… Understood?"

Awesom-

"Understood?"

"Y-Yes."

"Okay, good." Homelander hums as Peter drops his gaze to his feet, defeated. He can't see the rubber scuff mark on the floor from here. "Perfect." The man repeats quietly, almost as if to convince himself before he suddenly opens the door with a flourish and drags Peter inside.

Fortunately for Homelander, Peter has become quite adept at feeling like the smallest bug in the multiverse.