"I don't know."

Peter clamped his mouth closed. He felt his frustration rise at not knowing how to answer, instead resorting to just staring angrily into his lap. He was tired, in pain, unsettled, and frankly pissed off. The other vigilante seemed to notice and left him to his thoughts.

The spider stretched his fingers out, trying to suppress the memories of that night. It was then that he felt the burn of his lower back. Peter knew exactly what was making him feel that way, the weird symbol. He thought for a moment as he tried to figure out why, suddenly all anger was thrown out the window and replaced with confusion.

The answer was softer than usual, like a faint whisper caught in a breeze.'You know,' the voice spoke. He did know. He knew the familiarity he'd felt around the figure that was only tainted by the chaos interwoven into it. And he knew an all too familiar illusionist who was supposed to be dead. Peter suddenly felt queasy as he came to the realization.

With realization comes more questions, but there was one question in particular that made his head spin. 'Whose magic is this?' he thought as his fingers dug into the symbol etched into his skin.

Peter was broken from his thoughts when Red Hood entered the room again. "Think fast," he said as he threw a bottle at him.

Spidey felt his muscles grow tense as his eyes landed on the object, his spider sense prickling. Thinking fast… Peter proceeded to backhand it into a wall. It crashed into the panel, leaving a small indent, before falling to the ground. Red Hood slowly turned his head from Peter to the new indent. "My fucking wall."

Peter felt his heartbeat speed up while keeping his gaze glued to the bottle of water which was now spraying its contents out onto the floor. The sound reminded him too much of the attack. He held his hands to his ears and tore his eyes from the sight.

Red Hood stepped forward and sat down on the bed beside Peter. He softly tapped his leg, breaking Peter out of his current state.

"You good?" the vigilante hesitantly asked.

Peter nodded and dropped his hands back down. "Sorry about that… and your wall."

"Don't sweat it. Happens to the best-" Hood cut himself off, "wait a minute, can you open your mouth again?"

Peter hesitantly complies and watched as the vigilante leaned forward to get a good look. The emotionless mask Red Hood wore reflected Peter back at himself; he could practically feel the shock and disbelief radiating off of him.

"Holy shit. Have you had fangs this entire time?"

"What?!" the spider squawked as he shoved a finger against the roof of his mouth. Sure enough, a pair of fangs were nestled behind his front row of upper teeth. What he had once thought to be a tooth infection had turned out to be the venom sacks growing into his mouth.

The duo sat in stunned silence for a minute before Red Hood cleared his throat and spoke, "Well as I was saying, it happens to the best of us and I probably shouldn't have thrown that at you." The room once again delved into silence as Peter continued to mess with this new finding, causing Red Hood to grow more uncomfortable. "Okay, that's enough. Hands out of mouth," he ordered.

Peter quickly pulled his hands away. "Yeah, sorry." He was soon followed by his grumbling stomach.

There came an audible sigh from the vigilante. "Kid, when was the last time you ate?"

"Yesterday?... I think?"

"What do you mean 'you think?' You either ate or you didn't."

"Well I'm sorry I was just brutally assaulted and can't remember," Peter retorted.

Hood pointed at him while scolding, "Hey, no need for sass. I'm getting you something to eat."

"You better not poison it," Peter called out as Red Hood left the room to make food.

"Don't give me ideas," he called back.

It wasn't long before Hood came back with a steaming bowl of soup. He handed it to Peter who immediately began wolfing it down.

"Mhm, how's the shoulder?" Peter asks between mouthfuls.

Red Hood replies, "Not bad. It honestly looked worse than it actually was."

Peter hums in response, wanting to eat more than talk. Once done, Hood takes his bowl and flicks the light off.

"Get some rest kid."

As much as Peter wants to not admit it, he can't hide the constant exhaustion he feels. He reluctantly snuggles into the bed as Red Hood clicks the door close. The warmth in his stomach lulls him into a torturous sleep.

The moment of Tony dying keeps replaying over and over again. Each time it does, his heart aches. It only worsens when it's replaced with Aunt May. A red fog settles on the ground around her. It slithers around Peter and makes his skin burn. But the pain is nothing compared to watching the life leave May's eyes. Peter considers it a mercy when he finally jolts awake.

He feels worse than he did when he went to sleep. Peter groans and scrubs his face in hopes to rub away the sleepiness. When it doesn't happen, he decides to just get up anyway. It's dark outside and even more so inside, not that it bothers Peter much. He twists the door handle to find it locked. Now he didn't suspect Red Hood of anything but he also didn't feel like being locked inside the room. With a firm twist, the lock breaks and he exits.

A confused Red Hood turns around and the duo make eye contact.

"I thought I locked that?"

Peter's lips form a line and he replies, "You did."

Hood opens his mouth before deciding to just give him a concerned look. His helmet has been replaced by a simple domino mask, allowing for Peter to see more of his face. Peter takes notice of a certain white streak in a sea of black. One that reminded him eerily of his coworker's. Now that he thought about it, both Red Hood and Jason had custom motorcycles and the same injured arm.

Red Hood grabs something from his pocket and throws it at Peter, who promptly catches it. "What's this?" he questions while looking it over. It's slim and sleek, obviously an ear piece.

"A comm. It'll keep you in the loop and will help us keep in touch with you," Hood explains.

Peter quickly looks up at the vigilante. "Really? Why didn't you give me this earlier?"

"Precaution by Batman. Who, speaking of which, wants to meet you."

The spider chokes and stammers, "Wait what?"

Hood stretches before standing up. "Yep," he replies, "Strange how far a little bit of blackmail can go."

"You know, I see you doing that."

"I'm gonna take that as a compliment," Red Hood replies while walking over to the kitchen. "You hungry?"

"Starving," he answers.

Peter looks down at the comm and chews on his lip, thinking about how useful it would have been the night before. Or even those weeks they'd been avoiding him. Avoiding. The thought made his stomach churn and anger simmered on the surface. He breathed in slowly before exhaling it out through his nose.

"You mean to tell me I had one of the worst birthdays ever because he was scared of me?" Peter questions, frustration barely hidden.

"He wasn't scared, just taking per-," Hood goes to explain before cutting off and asking, "wait yesterday was your birthday?"

"Yes! And it sucked."

Hood slowly nods, pursing his lips. "I don't doubt that."

Peter sighs and drops the topic. "When does he want to meet me?" he asks.

"Knowing him, he'll probably stalk you down before confronting you when you least expect it," the vigilante hums while cutting up some carrots.

It had done that too; stalking, then pouncing. He grits his teeth and swallows down the bile. 'This is Batman,' Peter tells himself, 'It's not that… thing.'

"Can you maybe tell him to, like, not do that?" Peter questions.

Hood shrugs and replies, "I can try."

"Thanks," he breathes.

Peter settles down onto the ratty couch, listening to the soothing sound of sizzling oil and chopping vegetables. His eyes focus on the ceiling. Once his eyes started focusing too much that he started seeing individual particles, he groaned and closed them.

A meeting with Batman, the actual Batman… he could do that.