lepoffaith

by Lazydaily

marvel peter gotham long ass chapters

6. Chapter 6

Peter didn't go up to the roofs that night.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, including himself, Peter was fighting to understand how to feel, and when he does that, he likes to run. (Actually, running is one of the things he does best in most circumstances.) He's an expert at three of the panic responses: fight, flight, and freeze.

((He hasn't quite mastered the fawn response, but he supposes that is a good thing.))

He fights as Spider-Man,

He runs as Peter,

And he freezes when confronted with the worst of his issues. This time, finding out that the vigilantes he's been slowly befriending and wanting to trust are actually much more aware of Peter and his life than he thought they were, and are very determined not to let him out of their sight, made Peter run. The worst of the issue isn't even this, but that he feels stupid about running. And having to actually think about and confront his feelings so he knows why he ran is making him freeze up worse than a laptop from 2010 trying to play the Sims 4.

(He's been going to therapy, believe it or not. If Tony hadn't been adamant about the whole thing, like a fucking hypocrite, Peter would have remained as emotionally stunted as he was before the whole 'getting a family that finds it too hard to die' thing. Isn't that funny?)

Peter just couldn't stand the idea of Nightwing checking up on him again- or even seeing Red Hood for that matter- which led to him staying inside. If either of them had showed up, he would have to face the fact that he knows their secret identities. At least, he's pretty sure…

Oh, who is he kidding? He fucking knows!

There is no use fighting it at this point. They all match the descriptions, even if he hasn't seen their faces. He had been suspicious of Tim, Stephanie, and Duke when they first met (stalked) with him as civilians. (He's pretty sure they were surprised by his sudden drop in at the school, and they used that as an excuse to get close to him. Of fucking course Peter chose the one school in Gotham that two vigilantes go to, and managed to stumble into both of them.) Plus Stephanie had been injured in the same place that Spoiler had been. But it's confirmed now, no longer suspicion, because he got the final piece of the puzzle.

Dick and Nightwing, Jason and Red Hood, Tim and Red Robin, Stephanie and Spoiler, Duke and Signal… which leaves Bruce fucking Wayne as Batman, if he's going along that route? Bruce Wayne?

Peter had been confronted by that guy's stupid face the entire time he was booking it back to Benny's. Billboard? He's there. Bench? There. A mural? There. Peter half expected him to appear out of the darkness with some stupid rich guy suit on and be like "Peter," (this is said in the Batman voice) "-you can trust my gaggle of children and me. Swear."

Robin must be yet another child he doesn't know about- how many does that stupid old rich guy even need? Is he running a damn orphanage?

(The only solace that he has in this situation is that he at least has another billionaire on his list of people he's annoyed. Tony counts.)

He panicked, of course, because that's what he always fucking does. Like some stupid little rabbit that gets spooked at the sound of a leaf rustling. Pathetic, is what it is. Peter wonders if it's too out of pocket to invent time travel just to avoid this entire situation. He could do time travel, he could figure it out.

It isn't… It isn't that-? Ugh! How does Peter even explain this to himself!?

When he started opening up to the vigilantes, it was because they had something to offer him: help with Ohnn, without getting too close or taking risks. Because if there is one thing Peter will do, it's run away before someone gets too close. He's been burned too many times before to trust that nothing will happen, even if he likes the person he's talking to.

If he goes missing because Ohnn managed to find Peter, then someone will go looking for him. They probably would have anyway, if Peter just stopped showing up. But with what they have, they at least have a suspect now.

It's actually unfair that Peter has kept them in the dark that this long. Peter knows that. He just tries to ignore it.

But he didn't know their abilities, how they fight, what their process is. The Avengers were not always heroes. (Save for Steve, Peter thinks the guy popped up with a heart of gold and he refuses to listen to his story, to keep at least a couple more years of the hero-worship alive.) Sure, they all fight for people now, but Natasha was an assassin since childhood, Bucky was a soldier turned brainwashed assassin, Dr. Banner was trying to make a super soldier serum, Tony was… Tony Stark. Thor was a God Alien Guy, who was out of touch with humanity.

Peter doesn't know what Clint was.

Point being, Peter trusts them with his life now, because he knew he had a backup, a way to get away if shit hit the fan. He knows zilch about the Bats. They scrubbed their wiki of that and in turn, made it impossible for Peter to know something about them without interacting with them.

And here's another thing:

It's not like it isn't obvious Peter doesn't have anyone watching him, or making him go to school, all that. The vigilantes have made it clear they aren't happy with Peter's situation. And what with Ohnn chasing him around, they're going to keep an eye on him. It is an inevitable situation that he has to deal with. They don't know he's Spider-Man, they don't know he's not just a kid that got caught up in some shady business.

So he should know that of course they'd watch him as civilians, too. (He knows. He knows. He knows that.)

There's a lot of reasons as to why Peter would avoid them so much.

And yet, he thinks he might know what is really bothering him: He had pushed himself to trust Red Hood and Nightwing. He took comfort in that as long as Peter is just Peter, he would never see their faces. There was a barrier between them that prevented each other from getting any closer.

They'll help me, but from this distance.

He took comfort in that distance, like watching a light across a harbor. Every light that had stood by Peter's side, that he allowed himself to feel the warmth of, eventually was snuffed out. Gone, in the blink of an eye. One day there, an ever steady presence, and the next day their life was cut short. Peter has always been a shadow in their light- he still is. He stumbles in the dark now, trying to remember what it was like when the light was on and he knew where everything was.

And upon seeing underneath that mask, it made all of it too real, too sudden. When the mask was gone, Peter saw himself as he is, and that was terrifying.

He's not just an Avenger and a vigilante. He's also a scared kid who misses his family, and he can't put himself in two different categories if he can't do that with them.

Spider-Man and Peter aren't the same person. But they are.

It's blurring the lines of who Peter is trying to be and the reality of his person. It's harder to pretend that he's alright when he knows who he is talking to. Suddenly, they are people like him, people who want to help him. Who want to get close to him, to figure out what makes him tick. He's vulnerable, exposed to the outside perspective.

When he's Spider-Man, no one can hurt him. When he's Peter, they can.

When he's Spider-Man, he can save people. When he's Peter, he can't.

Spider-Man is better than Peter, he's able to fight, and save, and he can always get back up. Peter has to be human, and that had never worked out for him before the bite. Peter's humanity had left him cut down over and over again. When Peter got back up, it would hurt the people close to him. But when Spider-Man gets back up, he can protect them.

They're not getting close to Spider-Man.

They're getting close to Peter.

They see him. They're looking at his face, seeing him as he is, and they don't understand the risks that comes with that. Try as he might to learn otherwise at his mentors' and his foster parents' insistence, Peter will always believe, deep down, that it is his fault the people he cares about die.

After all, there is this super long list of names of people that died trying to take care of Peter.

So, he didn't go out to the roof. He laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling above him and counting the water damage spots that he sees. He read the book that he checked out from the library, hoping to think only of Ned and not that his world could come crashing down. At one point, he heard one of them swing by, but they never came close, and left after an hour.

Were they waiting for Peter? Were they watching the roof, wondering if he'd come out to talk? Did they know that Peter figured them out?

How can he face them after this?

And if he does, who is Peter going to be? Himself, or Spider-Man?

He took a risk the next morning by going out into town. His bag came with him, filled with his tool kits, the book, his notebooks, his extra web fluid canisters, spider-suit, Jumping Radar (it compacts down), and some granola bars for lunch. Putting his mind on something else will help him, for now, and what he chooses to focus on is his "fixing things" business.

(He just needs a little bit where he doesn't have to think about the Wayne family or their vigilante night life, cut him some slack.)

With that in mind, Peter set out for another district, and made plans to be back before dark. He didn't want to set up his business in the Upper East Side yet, because it's a little too close to where he lives. He could be tracked back to Benny's that way. If Ohnn gets word of his business or just happens to find him, Peter wants to keep Ohnn away from Benny at all possible cost. And instead of heading towards the University District, or even Coventry, Peter crossed the bridge to Burnley.

(Why not go to the richer districts? Because they're not going to trust some kid that looks like Peter with a shabby tool box to get the job done, and more often than not, rich people skimp out on cash.

It's the people like Peter that know how to keep good quality service- someone that gets the job done enough and doesn't steal from your house or business while they're there. They pay enough to get by and, most importantly, don't ask questions.)

It's not his best- or safest- option by any means. He's just some punk kid in the eyes of the people in this district, closer to Crime Alley and the Bowery both. As soon as he arrives, he feels hungry eyes turn on him like hyenas waiting for him to die so they can pick his bones clean.

However, this is nothing that he hasn't felt before, so he keeps his head on straight and walks around the business streets, searching for anything he can get his hands on. What he's looking for specifically are people that look like they'll have the money to pay- not nearly his usual amount, but it'll be enough to get food- or won't beat him up for asking.

Most of the places he finds for the next few hours check neither box.

Peter exits most of the places before he can even get his foot in the door, because they'll scream at him to 'fuck off' and Peter doesn't want to deal with that, or ask how they knew he was coming in with an offer. Other people actually entertain the idea, but Peter's spider-senses go off and he bolts out of there like lightning.

A particularly rude and belligerently drunk man that was sitting at a bar threw a cup of water at him and literally pushed him out of the store. The owner hadn't even looked up from his food and had acted like he had a hangover, so Peter assumed that place was a bust as well. He had sat there in the cold and wondered if he should give up.

But Peter needs the money and the distraction. So he sucks it up and continues on.

By the time noon rolls around, Peter hasn't found anywhere at all to start his Fixing Things business. Taking a break sounds like a decent option, so he does just that. He opens up his first granola bar, parking himself on the sidewalk across from a park. Cars drive past every now and then but for the most part, this area of Burnley is empty.

Likely because people are throwing cups of water at teenagers.

His stomach growls in protest when Peter bites into the granola bar. It's all he's had to eat today, because he had left early before Benny made breakfast, and it's begging for more. The hunger, lately, is enough to hurt. It's been a while since he felt a hunger pain this bad, the kind that makes him woozy, and even begs him not to eat.

Peter never understood that. Why is it that he can get so hungry that he doesn't want to eat? Human biology is weird even without the added radioactive spider-enhancements.

Forcing himself to eat his second granola bar, Peter stares at his pants leg. It's still damp from the water, and the October air is doing him no favors. If he had enough room in his backpack, he would have shoved his extra jacket into it, maybe used it as a temporary blanket when he sat down. But he didn't account for water throwing.

Maybe he'll have to go to the rich districts anyway. It's not like they wouldn't pay him at all, he's just nervous because of how most rich people are. They either skimp or give too much, and it's mostly the former that he meets. Tony is the latter- he'd practically throw money at people without thinking twice about it.

oh wow,,

He hears the truck before he sees the truck, and not because it's healthy. In fact, Peter equates the sound of this truck to that one time he watched a goose choke and some lady at the park tried to save it's life with CPR.

Spluttering and coughing like an old man on his death bed, an old and dingy, red pick-up truck comes to a lurching stop in the middle of the road. The passenger side door is held together by duck-tape and dreams, the bumper has more holes in it than swiss cheese, convincing Peter this truck has been in a drive-by more than once. The driver curses over the radio, shutting it off with a slam of his hand. The truck bangs and clangs as the driver manages to get it to park on the side of the road.

The driver storms out of the car, yanking his hat off his head and cussing under his breath as he makes his way to the front, attempting to pry open the hood. Peter drops half of his granola on the ground as his jaw drops.

HELLO! HI! HI FRIEND!

It isn't just any man that is struggling with his truck- It's Happy.

Happy damn Hogan.

He's younger than Peter has ever known him, looking straight out of the picture of his boxing days before he was Tony's bodyguard. He's different in the smaller ways, that forces Peter to recall that he's in an alternate reality: a scar along his forearm from a knife, his hands wrapped in bandages, and his nose crooked, dark purple circles around his eyes as if he'd just gotten into a fight a few days ago.

A woman crossing the street avoids him by going towards the back of his truck instead of the front. He doesn't pay her any mind, still trying to shove his fingers under the hood so he can lift it up.

But it's him. Even if it's not him, him, it's Happy. He hasn't seen the man in almost a month now, and it feels surreal that he's standing right in front of Peter. As if a part of Peter was starting to think he'd never go home, and was preparing himself to not even have pictures of the people he loves.

It doesn't even matter to Peter that he dropped his last granola in a puddle. He just watches Happy with misty eyes, a lump in his throat making it hard to try and speak.

"Damn piece of shit." Happy grits his teeth, leaning over the hood and taking a few deeps breaths. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill Sal and his stupid ass friend. Givin' me a fuckin' truck that doesn't even work."

Peter knows that it isn't the best idea. It could backfire- majorly backfire. This Happy isn't his Happy, and could be entirely different even in personality to what Peter knows. In fact, he might even punt Peter across the street like everyone here does.

But it's him. And Peter is a moron at heart.

He jumps to his feet, stuffing granola wrappers into his jeans and gulping down his nerves. His voice is a little too small and crackly for his liking when he speaks up. "C-Can I help?"

Happy- and boy, does Peter have to fight not to burst into a mess of tears and hug what should be a stranger- turns over his shoulder to look at him with a nasty scowl. He gives Peter a once over and shakes his head, sighing and waving him away.

"Get lost, kid."

"I'm good with cars." Peter urges, keeping himself far enough away from Happy's reach just in case. Happy's eye twitches. "This is a classic 1985 Ford F-150- if, well, it looked like it died and came back to life multiple times in a Frankenstein sort of way. But the base, is, like, pretty recognizable even without a good upkeep."

Happy narrows his eyes at Peter in disbelief. Peter, unfortunately, continues to ramble.

"It's a faulty ignition system. I could fix it right now, if you want. You wouldn't even have to figure out how to get it to the mechanic- and like, you know they're gonna try and updo the prices, maybe even annoy you about fixing the bullet holes." Peter's mouth is moving without permission. To avoid his mouth making it worse for him, Peter reaches his arm over the hood and bangs it once.

The hood pops open with ease, and Happy takes a step back. Peter props up the hood, his mouth pressed into a thin line and anxiety rolling through him as he watches Happy's reaction.

The man is taking several deep breaths in and out, rubbing a hand over his mouth as he stares at the engine. He scratches his neck, and Peter braces himself for the inevitable "Get out of here."

It doesn't come.

"I only have $60 on me."

"That's alright." Peter replies immediately. Happy raises a brow.

"You know this would cost-"

"$135 to $350 depending on where you go? Yeah." Peter nods, adjusting the finger less gloves on his hands and jumping up to take a peek at the car battery without waiting for a real 'go ahead' because it feels like Happy already accepted Peter's help. "That's okay."

"I didn't say-"

Peter has already disconnected the car battery, throwing a sheepish grin Happy's way as he has to tip toe to reach inside the truck. Happy sighs loudly, taking another step back as if a weight has fallen onto his shoulders.

"Okay, fine." He grunts, leaning on a light pole. "Not like a 12 year old can make it any worse."

"I'm 14." Peter corrects as he shuffles towards the driver's seat. Happy makes a noise like he doesn't believe Peter. "I am, seriously. I'm not a little kid."

"Hate to break it to you, shortstack, but 14 is a little kid."

"Agree to disagree. In any case, the little kid is fixing your truck for you." Peter has dropped his backpack down on the middle seat next to him and popped off the steering column cover, looking at the components beneath.

"What book in your pre-k classroom taught you how to fix trucks?"

"It was right next to the ABC's and Hungry Hungry Caterpillar." Peter fires back. When he chances a glance at Happy, the man is hiding an amused grin under his hand.

Oh, boy, this went way better than Peter thought it would. Apparently, Happy is Happy, no matter what dimension he's been kidnapped to. No matter how annoying Peter tries to be (or accidentally is), Happy just rolls with it, in his universe. Happy pretends it's the worst thing ever, but if he truly hated it, he wouldn't laugh so much.

Peter finds the ignition switch at the back of the ignition key assembly, looking for the loose wires, corrosion, or maybe even some damaged connections. Fortunately, it just appears to be loose wires. He shoves a hand in his bag and pulls out his pliers. Happy scoffs in disbelief.

"What the hell are you keeping pliers in your backpack for?"

"Entertainment, sir." Peter bites back a smile as he tightens the loose connections.

"…You know, isn't school still in session?" Happy asks, and Peter's smile turns into a grimace he attempts to keep hidden by facing away from Happy. "It's noon on a Thursday and you're hopping into stranger's cars rather than learning how to multiply."

"I already know how to multiply." Peter deflects. He hops out of the car and back to the hood, reaching inside to reconnect the battery.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"What was the question, again?" He sits back in the seat, and realizes he doesn't have the keys. He crawls over the seat and sticks his hand out of the passenger window, where Happy has his arms crossed and is watching Peter like a principal would observe wayward students at an assembly. Peter gives him his sweetest, most innocent smile that he can manage.

"Keys, please?" He makes a grabby motion with his fingers.

Happy takes a moment to comply, but eventually he drops the keys in Peter's hand. Peter barely contains a noise of victory, scooting back to the driver's seat and turning the key in the ignition. The engine rumbles to life- no coughing, sputtering, or any other dying goose noises. Happy looks regrettably impressed.

With that, Peter closes the compartment back up and hops out of the truck after turning it off. He's about to jump up to close the hood when Happy slams it down himself. A stand off ensues- Happy staring him down and Peter trying not to crack, plastering that oh-so-innocent smile on his face like his life depends on it.

Peter holds up the keys, dangling them in between the two of them. Happy continues to stare at Peter, but he takes the keys back from him.

It's such a familiar state of being, being seen like this. He and Happy have always had this roundabout way of acting with each other. Happy is an adult who can blatantly follow along Peter's wish to not be coddled or pitied. He's always cared, but he pretends not to, while helping Peter out. And Peter cares too, and enjoys being cared about, while also getting to pretend he isn't. Happy was what made it easier to deal with the Avengers- he made it easy to get to Tony, and not freak out as much.

Which is why it's 100% expected by Peter for Happy to give up the fight, if they're really the same.

Happy shakes his head, reaching into his wallet and pulling out the $60. Because Peter knows better than to reject it, he takes the money without complaint and shoves it into his pocket next to the empty granola wrappers. Peter adjusts his backpack, pretending that he's about to take off.

"Well, sir-"

"Hold on, I still owe you." Happy complains-but-not-really-complains. Peter smacks a surprised look on his face even though he had no doubt this would happen. "You hungry? $60 ain't enough, and you-"

"Look like the wind could blow me away?"

Happy shoots him an unimpressed glare.

"I get that a lot." Peter gives a casual shrug. Happy looks more tired than he did earlier. "I had a granola bar for lunch."

"That's-" Happy bites down whatever he was going to say ('That's not enough.') and instead points at the end of the street with his thumb. Peter, having not taken much notice of the shop because it was dark inside and wouldn't help him out, now notices the sign that isn't lit up.

'Hogan's.'

"That's my shop. I'll fix you a sandwich and we can call it even."

Peter grins up at him. "Thanks, Mr. Hogan."

Happy pauses. "That's it? No, 'stranger danger' bells are ringing in your head right now? Nothin'?"

'I'm just saying that ya can't reply with 'Cool' if anyone other than me says that.' He hears Red Hood Jason Liar McLiar's voice in his head.

Well, Peter isn't replying with 'cool.' So suck it.

"Nope!" Peter shakes his head. It's such a comfort to be able to bother Happy like this, even if it isn't his world's Happy. He holds back his laughter at the man dragging a hand down his face, grumbling to himself as he gets up on the sidewalk and walks towards the shop.

"Hey, what happened to your face?" Peter asks as Happy is unlocking the shop. He can't help but bounce on his toes in excitement, fingers tapping along the straps of his backpack in his hands. "You look like you got beat up, like, real bad. Did you get into a fight? Or are you, like, a body guard or something cool like that?"

He knows that Happy used to be a bodyguard before he ended up being in charge of the security for Stark Industries. Specifically, Tony's bodyguard. Which is funny to think about now, because Tony is Iron Man.

"You should know better than to get into people's business. 'Specially in Gotham." Happy grunts as the door swings open and the bell rings out. Peter walks in front of Happy, observing the small shop with keen eyes.

It's a sandwich place sort of like a Subway, but much smaller. There's only a couple tables on one side, a drink counter next to a trash-can, and a line of shelves filled with chips and cookies and things like that, and then the counter with the checkout. Peter does see other details, though, that reminds him of Happy's personality. The mural on the wall with the tables is from Happy's favorite sports teams, there's pictures of customers and of Happy, posters of baseball stars with autographs on them.

Happy makes his way behind the counter, grabbing a cup from the stack and shoving it into Peter's hands.

"Hmmmmm, so you did get beat up?"

"I'm a boxer." Happy replies, and Peter can feel him watching as he skips over to the drink counter without complaint. Peter picks a sweet tea, loading it with ice just the way he likes it- practically half the cup. The noise clinks and clangs around the shop, so Peter calls over his shoulder.

"Are you a good one, or is your face not supposed to look like that?"

There's a scoff as Happy starts making the sandwich, and Peter smirks while putting the lid on his cup. Happy shakes his head at Peter. "Just for that, I'm not asking what you want on the sandwich."

"I think I'll live." He takes a sip of his drink, his eyes glancing over the pictures on the wall curiously.

There's a lot of faces that Peter doesn't know, obviously. Some look like just regular customers, or maybe they're friends. There's pictures on an opening day, where there's a line out front as people come in to try the new place. Gotham looks softer than Peter's ever seen it, so this place must have been open for a while now. The people in line look healthy, they're actually talking to each other, and no one is passed out on the ground. Peter is making his way down the line, curiously calculating when the picture had been taken and when Gotham had become a boiling pot of sad, when he ends up coughing on his sweet tea.

It's Pepper.

Pepper and Happy, on the same opening day as the other pictures. Pepper is young, really young. Not that she's old right now, it's just- like- it's weird, seeing her like this. Peter's only ever known her as the CEO of Stark Industries, always one step ahead of her competition and her allies both. She normally wears her crisp business suits and her hair pulled back into the neatest ponytail Peter has ever seen. And though her eyes are warm and she has smile lines on her face, he's been to enough meetings as her Little Assistant (read: Peter didn't want to go to school) to know that her gaze can be full of clarity and decisiveness that can cut through any opponent.

She's got the years of experience, the rough edges that have balanced out into a tool rather than a hindrance to her person. Peter knows this Pepper, (practically her biggest fan, like he was with Tony, before they took him in. And yeah, he's still their biggest fans, but they're also more human than they had looked before.) he knows the Pepper that has gone through so much and uses it to build herself up.

The Pepper in this photo doesn't have that yet.

She has on casual clothes in the picture, with a college on the front of her sweatshirt, and she's hugging Happy's side. She's fresh out of college, maybe still in it, in this photo? She does have this sad quality around her shoulders, like she's being forced to carry something heavy, but there's a light in her eyes as she sits next to Happy. The two of them are giving a thumbs up to the camera, holding two sandwich trays.

And right next to that picture, is… Tony.

The three of them are sitting together on a bench. Tony and Happy are standing on either side of Pepper in her graduation gowns for the college that was on her sweatshirt. She's holding onto her degree with both hands, beaming with pride and fondness. There are spring trees in the back, blooming with bright pink and white flowers, and someone had put a couple in her hair for her. Not haphazardly- but actually taken the time to braid the flower into the locks of her hair.

Tony is wearing regular sunglasses, not in a suit but still wearing his best. There's a matching flower behind his ear. He's relaxed, he's smiling freely. He has one arm around Pepper's shoulders, and the three of them look so… so young.

They never met when they were that young, in Peter's universe. He knows the story of Pepper- who's real name is Virginia, and only got the nickname because she pepper sprayed Tony- working with Tony, and Happy having become Tony's bodyguard before he was working in security for Stark. So seeing it here, and seeing Tony so, like… Healthy?

He knows Tony wasn't "healthy" back when he was this age. Tony doesn't talk about it a lot, but when he does, there's a regret, and it always includes some kind of lesson he wants Peter to have. Peter finds that most adults do that, when they actually care about you. They tell you lessons, know that you might not learn it that day, but at least want you to carry it in your back pocket. Tony does that a lot- tells Peter just enough, so that Peter will have something to look back on, to think about. So Peter always listens.

There's not a lot of pictures that Tony will even show him of that period of his life, or what he looked like back then. He swears it's because there just aren't enough photos, but Peter is pretty sure it's because Tony was going through a really hard time, and the photos would show a picture of a person that Tony doesn't want Peter to see. Because Tony isn't that kid anymore. It's… It's nice, to see him like this.

Happy, healthy, and whole.

"You okay, kid?"

Peter is snapped back into the present. He clears his throat from the drink he had accidentally inhaled, shooting Happy a sheepish grin. Happy isn't looking up, but he can tell he's noticed which picture Peter is looking at.

"You're pretty old."

That's the first thing that comes out of Peter's mouth, rather than what he wanted to ask: the billions of questions he has about Happy's life in this world. What Tony is like, where Tony is, what he's doing, what Pepper is doing, where she's at right now-

"Thanks." Happy replies dryly. "It's not too late for me to put an inhumane amount of mustard on this sandwich."

He says that, but he's toasted the bread and is being meticulous about putting a lot of vegetables and meats on there.

"I meant, like, this place has been open a while." Peter looks back at the pictures. "I'm surprised these aren't in black and white."

"You-" Happy cuts himself off when Peter sends him his patented Angel Face Peter smile. Happy shakes his head, aggressively adding more onions. "I've been open for a few years."

"You got a lot of pictures, I'd say that's more than a few."

"Do you want me to poison your sandwich?"

"I have a feeling you wouldn't want to poison a teenager."

Happy glances at the photos- specifically, the one that Peter is looking at. "It's been a while. I put those up when I first got here."

"When you came to Gotham?"

Again, Happy looks up at him. He's trying to figure Peter out, but Peter keeps his face cool, sipping on his sweet tea like he's just a curious kid. Technically, that's what he is. "How'd you know I came to Gotham?"

"You've been living here a while, but you can't really hide a New York accent. Brooklyn, right?" Peter guesses-not-guesses, because he's heard this from Happy before. And he's right. It's obviously a Brooklyn accent, hiding underneath the hints of living in Gotham for a while. Peter flips the script, and finally gets to ask what everyone keeps asking him: "How come you moved to Gotham?"

"I recognize Queens when I hear it. You tell me first, squirt."

"My dad's business." Peter explains briefly. "We won't be here too long."

Happy's hands hesitate putting fries on the sandwich plate. "I moved here after my friend passed away. Just… couldn't look at New York the same, I guess."

Peter glances back at the photo, dread washing over him.

Pepper is the only one who's at the opening day for the sandwich shop.

Happy must notice his gaze, because he ignores it. "Order up, punk."

Peter sets his tea on the table, and goes to grab his sandwich. He walks back over to the table, wondering what even to say. Tony is… dead. In this universe. He never got to… To do anything. He wonders what Tony's life was like, if he- If he ever got to become someone more than his childhood. Tony went through hell and back just to get a new, good life, the one he has now. Peter has always admired Tony, but he admires the man as he is currently more than he ever admires his past.

What if Tony never got to grow past that?

"My friend grew up here."

Peter looks up from his seat, where Happy is preparing another sandwich. He doesn't look up at Peter while he works, and he looks older than he did a minute ago.

What was Happy like? Without Tony around? Does he still talk to Pepper? She's not… No, she isn't dead. There's a recent picture of them sitting together, hanging above the register space. She looks older in this photo, but none the less okay.

"Well, not here. He lived in Bristol, up the way." Happy shrugs. "Pretty much all his childhood. His parents lived in New York for the most part, but he was a Gotham kid. When he died, I just felt like he'd miss Gotham. Not Bristol, 'cause he hated it up there. But…"

"Home." Peter finishes.

Happy glances up at him now, and it's Peter's turn to pretend he's not paying attention to him. He pops a couple fries in his mouth, trying to look outwardly calm, hoping he isn't staring too hard at his plate. He wonders vaguely if he's ever been successful in doing that- looking calm.

"Was it worth it?" Peter asks, and Happy's brow furrows. "Moving to Gotham? Do you feel closer to him?"

For the first time, Happy doesn't bother to hide the ghost of a smile on his face. "Yeah, I guess I do. He was a pain in the-" Happy cuts himself off, and Peter raises a brow. "…butt-"

"Just say ass. You sound lame when you try not to cuss."

"I'm not cussin' front of a kid."

"You lose Cool Points when you say that, too." Peter scoffs. "It's not like I've never heard a cuss word before. And I mean it, you lose Cool Points when you do that. You gained them with the whole boxer-at-night aesthetic you got goin' on."

Peter can't hold back his smirk. He shrugs, taking a large bite out of his sandwich, and relishes in the way Happy scrunches up his nose when Peter hides his mouth behind his hand as he talks. "Afywayf, fou can 'ust fay 'aff' it ain't fe en' of fe world."

"Don't talk and chew, you're gonna choke and I don't know shit about the Heimlich maneuver, so you'll die. Do you wanna die in a damn sandwich shop, punk? That's how you wanna go out?"

Peter snorts, but he does properly take his time to chew his food. He swings his legs in the chair- no, he's not that short, the chair is just pretty tall- and he comments. "This is a pretty good sandwich."

"Wow, it's almost like I got a whole business that relies on me makin' pretty good sandwiches." Happy snarks. Peter laughs, feeling, for a moment, like everything is going to be alright. It almost feels like he's back home, and that at any moment, Tony will come pick them up, maybe even order more sandwiches so they can eat them in the car.

And then it all hits him.

How much he wants to go home.

It smacks him the face, actually. There's a tug at his heart that is overwhelming, and Peter focuses entirely too much on the sandwich in an effort to hold back tears.

He spent so much of his life running and hiding from people. Never letting people get too close, because he could lose them, or they'd hurt him. And it hasn't even been that long since Tony and Pepper took him in- just about a year. But in that time, and the months before then when they didn't even know his first name- when they just knew him as "Parker"- he had grown so close to them.

He feels stupid, thinking back to earlier, and why he came here at all to this part of town. He avoided the Bats because of something so… Something he thought he was growing out of. Back home, he had just started making the distinction that maybe Spider-Man and Peter aren't so different after all. That maybe he can trust people. Trust people like he trusts Happy, and Tony, and Pepper… and all of his mentors.

So what if Peter knows their faces? Why is acting like this? Why is he so concerned about how people will view him, how they'll see him, and judge him? That part- it doesn't matter. What matters is getting home, and Peter has to- He has to suck it up.

He has to ask for help. He has to learn to trust, because what if he can't catch Ohnn by himself? What if he's stuck here for more than just a month- what if months turn to years, and eventually Tony and Pepper and Happy forget about him-?

He watches Happy in almost slow motion. The time slows around him, his thoughts running a mile a second.

Seeing Happy again, and knowing that Loki is going to come back some time and remind him of his home, it all feels like a sucker punch. A big, huge, wake up call that he really needed. Sure, he's nervous about Batman- about this Bruce Wayne guy- and his no metas rule. He's worried that they'll turn on him at any second.

But… isn't that unfair to them?

To assume that they'll hurt him, to assume the worst out of them, just to protect himself? He knows that isn't what he's supposed to think. He knows there's probably a million different ways to word it. But shouldn't he be giving them the benefit of the doubt? He's been hurt before, but he's supposed to be learning to trust people. And here he was, falling back on everything that he knew, just for comfort. Just to be safe.

But he can't get home if he plays it safe.

And… These vigilantes have done nothing but try to help him, to be there for him. Peter's insecurities were keeping them at arm's length, maybe even further than that. He was worried, like he always is, that if he gets close, they'll- they'll hurt him, or worse: they'll die on him. It's not like he's asking them to be his family, or his friends. He just needs to trust them long enough to get home, back to his people.

They're in the same profession that he's in. Heroes are flawed. All any one of them want to do is save people, to help, to carry the burdens so people never have to feel the way they did. If they can save even just one person, then they should. It isn't a job, it's a responsibility. It's a passion, it's- it's- it's what May and Ben taught him.

That's how Peter views it, anyway. And even though heroes are flawed, it's because they're human.

Happy sits down next to Peter at his table, sitting with his own sandwich. Peter watches him, taking a bite of his sandwich too, and noting the smallest differences in this Happy and the one from home. The grays in his hair aren't there yet, he's broken his nose more times, because it's all crooked.

He should go back to the library.

But for right now, Peter sits and eats in silence with someone that isn't quite from home, but is a comfort all the same.

That was easy to say, but Peter only followed through going to the library four days later.

Listen, do NOT judge him, alright? He started thinking about how fast he ran away and got embarrassed. And he does not do his best work when he's embarrassed. He needed the extra few days to 1) whine about it, 2) chill the fuck out, and 3) pretend it never happened. He's followed this formula for years, and it works wonders for him. So yeah, he waited three days before making the trip over.

That, and he waited for Loki to make an appearance. However, there's been nothing on that end.

He thought that Loki would be coming to update him every couple of days, or something. What could possibly keep him that busy in their home universe? Tony, Natasha, and Steve were the least busy at the time that Peter was kidnapped. They can handle Ohnn perfectly fine, they're not as inept as Peter. But Loki is just casting an illusion, and he knows that Loki can cast illusions in a separate place than he is currently, so he's probably just sitting somewhere, waiting for a reason to cause trouble, right?

Peter would even prefer him to cause trouble here. As long as it meant he was learning about what's going on in his home universe while he does it.

But nothing. Peter's seen nothing of Loki.

So on day four, he finds himself standing outside of the library again. Over the past few days, he's been thinking about all of the vigilantes in between pacing around his room, attempting to stave off the discomfort of knowing what they look like under those masks.

Seeing Happy had helped him remember the ache in his chest that made him miss home, that hurt far more than any trust issues he could have about the strangers he's hoping will help him. Because while he is absolutely petrified, wondering if they're going to turn on him the second they realize he could be a potential threat… he misses his home.

He decided not to be a huge baby about it and treat it like any other mission.

That's right: it's data collection time.

What? Did anyone think that Peter was going to just walk up and tell them what's going on? Give him some credit, man, he's not a loser. A coward? Yeah, maybe. But stupid he is not.

Peter doesn't like not knowing more than other people. Wait, let him rephrase that. He doesn't like being Not In The Know. If he knows more than the adult about their current circumstances, he feels a little better. He doesn't have to rely on them to figure it out. He had enough of being dragged around the foster system at the mercy of adults that were hanging by a thread, he doesn't need adults keeping him out of the loop again.

So yeah, his plan? Let them think they're getting close to him. It's simple, considering that's all they've been trying to do for this almost-month that he's been here.

Before Peter goes prattling off his secret identity as Spider-Man- a potential threat, if they're smart- he's going to take the opportunity that's been presented to him. As much as he dislikes being underestimated, it's his biggest asset. They take one look at Peter and they want to protect him, because he's short for his age and has no guardian (at the moment). He just wants to make sure, before he dives in, that he can trust them, in and out of the suit. He doesn't want to be blindsided. He doesn't want- well-

Yeah, okay, maybe he's looking for them to slip up. He's being clever about hiding this from even himself, but that's kind of the goal. He's going to work himself up to telling them the truth, but he's going to wait. He's going to give himself time to sniff around, to really understand what they're like, before he says anything.

He just… Has to know. He has to know.

…Library.

Peter chews the inside of his cheek, glaring at the front doors. Maybe the embarrassment hasn't truly gone away. Maybe the library card feels like it's burning a hole in his pocket. Maybe he wants to throw up, just like, a little bit. Maybe he's wondering if they know that he knows, because Barbara had to have noticed, right? And if they know that he knows, will he know that they know that he knows? Will they all know? And what if they get weird about him knowing? He's thought a lot about it over these few days, and he's decided that he'll just pretend that he doesn't know, unless they bring it up first.

That's a good plan.

He thinks.

(Please don't let him bomb this.)

The doors open just like every other time, the traitors. Peter bites back his disappointment that they opened, as if he was half expecting the library to be closed. That's why he came so late, after all. It's not that far off from closing time. This was a tactical decision.

(He stalled as long as he could, realized he was stalling, and then cussed himself out and forced himself to go to the library, telling himself that if it was closed, he'd try again tomorrow.)

Immediately, he is affronted with their presence.

Barbara is in the back of the front area, stringing up Halloween lights on the doors that Peter thinks might lead to study rooms and the like. Well, not her, because she's sitting in her wheelchair and just pointing where she wants it to go, but some boy that's Peter's age.

Robin, Peter's mind clarifies for him, when he meets eyes with the boy. He's probably a couple inches taller than Peter, wearing a dark green long sleeved t-shirt and black pants. From Peter's eyesight, he can tell the boy has incredible balance, and he's so light on his feet that it's almost imperceptible. Dark black hair that sticks up out of his face, a scar on his upper lip, and the scariest green eyes that Peter has ever seen. No doubt that this is the current Robin- their heartbeats match.

Dick is sitting at the reception desk, his back turned to the door. He has a witch's hat on his head with multiple pumpkins stitched on the ribbon. He's fiddling with a big bag of candy in his lap, his feet propped up on the desk. Jason is sitting next to him, his nose wrinkled in disgust as Dick shovels a handful of candy into his mouth. Cool Guy that he is, he's wearing a dark red hoodie today with a raven design on the front, and he's working on scanning a huge stack of books.

Peter locks eyes with Robin again. The boy waves shortly, causing Barbara to look over her shoulder. She's surprised to see him-

joy!

-and then a bright smile crosses her face. She waves as well. "Peter, you're back!"

"Hey, Miss Barbara." Peter ignores Dick coughing on the handful of candy, and though Jason glances his way, he's preoccupied laughing at Dick. Peter walks closer to the front desk, waving at the two brothers, before making his way to stand next to Barbara. "Um, are you decorating?"

"Yeah! I didn't get around to it earlier in the month, but I figured since it's literally four days away, I should at least try to put something up." Barbara holds up a bucket of Halloween decorations, shaking it and pointing for Peter to see. "These are all ancient decorations, from, like, 2005, but they work, so I don't see the need to buy anything else."

"Is this satisfactory or not?" Robin sounds annoyed, narrowed eyes at Barbara. He's still holding up the lights.

"Yeah, that's good. Hey, Peter, you haven't met Damian yet, have you?" Barbara looks at Peter, and he can see the gears working in her brain. And Peter…

He totally understands what she's fishing for.

He met Tim and Duke at the school, Gotham Prep. If they're brothers to Jason and Dick, then Damian must be a brother too. He looks like he's Peter's age, so he can assume that Damian also goes to Gotham Prep, and Barbara had seen Peter looking at their academic decathlon website. The only natural conclusion would be that Peter goes to Gotham Prep as well: but he doesn't. And that is easily noticeable if they look into it. And they 100% have, so they know he doesn't go there.

Conclusion: Don't say anything about it at all!

"Nope." Peter grins at Damian. "Nice to meet you. How's the weather up there?"

Damian has the most amusing reaction to the shitty joke when he turns to look at Peter- like he'd just eaten an amalgamation of mysterious slimes. However, he must be used to shitty jokes, because he finds it in himself to let it go, mysterious slime and all. "Pleasure to meet you as well."

!

"…Need a hand?" Peter glances to the side, then back to Damian.

Damian scoffs, and Peter can hear the 'lone wolf' in his voice. It's not grating, so Peter lets it slide. "I am very capable of putting up some simple decorations without assistance. You are not needed."

"Alright, suit yourself." Peter shrugs, picking up a fluffy toy spider from the bucket of decorations. He spins it in his hands, eyeing the lights. "Hey, Miss Barbara?"

"Call me Babs, Peter, the 'Miss' makes me feel old."

"Alright, Babs." Peter nods. "So, you said these are from 2005?"

"Yeah?"

"Which means that battery box that's currently catching on fire, no one thought to check that out?" Peter points in the direction of a shelf, which is holding the battery box end of the lights. It's starting to spark on the shelf, next to a stack of printer paper.

"Oh, shit." Jason is up in a flash, grabbing the box off of the shelf and turning it off. In the panic, Peter notices the ladder underneath Damian shake. When Damian turns to see what is going on, Peter drops the spider back into the decoration bucket, and uses one hand to grip the bottom of the ladder, preventing it from tipping over.

"Thing's totally fuckin' busted!" Jason holds it up, showing off the melting sides. "How'd you notice that?"

"Educated guess." Peter shrugs.

watching

"You wouldn't believe how many times my Aunt caught fire to stuff on accident. It's a good thing her husband was a firefighter." Peter spares a glance over to Dick. He's still got that stupid witch hat on his head, but his eyes are pretty serious. He's studying Peter like one would a particularly difficult puzzle. When he notices Peter has looked his way, he drops into a small smile, unable to hide his thoughts.

At least he's easier to read this way, without that domino mask on. Right now, he can see that Dick's gaze is primarily on Peter's hand, where he's preventing the ladder from shaking.

"Good catch, Pete." Babs looks up at Damian with a sheepish grin. "Heyyyyy Dami…"

"I already know what you are about to ask of me." Damian is totally resisting the urge to sigh. "Yes, I will take the lights down as well."

"Thank you!" Babs says sweetly. "We'll have to get some new lights, 'cause this place needs them, it's so dark and dreary in here."

Peter looks up at the lights above him. He could probably fix those in no time at all, but that isn't what he's here for right now. And besides- Jason is already tugging the battery box off and setting it on the counter, and Peter can tell that his attention has focused on him. As Jason scoops up the book stack on the counter, he says, "Hey, Petey. Come help me with these?"

Babs is focused on her phone, looking for new lights, so Peter walks over to take the stack of books. Jason gives a toothy grin as he adds more and more, and Peter pretends that the stack is getting heavy.

"I need someone to hold these while I put these back on the shelf. Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah, sure." Peter shoves aside the fact that he was sort of looking forward to talking to Jason the most. He's talked to Red Hood more than the others, and Peter just… well, the guy is cool. And Peter is a sucker for that.

He also ignores that there is a book cart right behind Jason, that could be used for this exact purpose, no Peter involved. They really aren't even subtle about it.

Jason pats his shoulder, "Alright, my man."

"You didn't ask me to help." Dick pouts out his bottom lip. He's back to before, when he was just a guy eating a gross amount of candy, instead of a guy with a detective's glare.

"Peter's cooler." Jason says, and Peter tries to hide his grin behind the stack of books. "I mean, look at you, wearing that ridiculous hat."

"I'm cool too!" Dick protests. "The hat is whimsical and charming! Right, Peter?"

Peter covers Dick's face from view with the stack of books, instead looking up at Jason. "Where to first?"

Jason barks out a laugh, putting both hands on Peter's shoulders and steering him away from the reception desk and towards the bookshelves. Dick, to his credit, doesn't whine about this until he thinks Peter and Jason are out of ear shot. Unfortunately for him, Peter can still hear.

"The kid totally thinks I'm lame…"

Peter might have to fix that later. But whatever. He's hanging out with Red Hood right now, and that's a lot of fun. Nightwing can wait, right?

"We're not keeping you from anything, are we?" Jason stops at one of the shelves in the back, grabbing the book from the top of the pile and putting it up. Peter follows alongside him, having to peek around the stack of books to see Jason's face at the moment.

Is he asking that because Peter ran away the last three times he was here? …Probably.

"No," Peter says softly. "I was nearby and wanted to see Babs."

Jason's lips tug upwards, but he keeps his face decently neutral. "Checking out another book? I can help you find something, I come here a lot."

"Oh, um…" Peter didn't really have an excuse in mind. He hadn't finished his other book, and he was trying to stick to a one book rule until he left this world. "I just wanted to see her. But I almost finished the last book I checked out, so I guess I should start looking for another."

Something in that answer catches Jason's attention, but Peter can't tell what exactly. Jason picks up the last book that was making Peter peek around the stack, so now Peter is looking up at Jason normally. He slides the book back in its place, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes.

"Babs said you like sci-fi."

She told them that? That doesn't seem like relevant information to give. What could they possibly learn about Peter's interest in books?

"Um, yeah?"

"What else do you like? I know this place back to front, I'll find you something good."

Peter blinks at him… It… would be cool to get a Red Hood recommended book. The figurine for Red Hood is sitting in his backpack right now, but Peter suddenly remembers that it would be a little fucking embarrassing if Jason knew that he carries it around like a little kid. He swears, it was just because he forgot it was in there.

"What do you recommend?"

He tries for a polite smile, but it's probably looking nervous. It definitely comes out more nervous. Jason doesn't mention it. He just looks pleased that Peter had asked. "You want to branch out from sci-fi?"

"Sure?"

"When we get these put up, I'll give ya a few to try out. Ya can tell me what y'think about 'em when y'come back."

Peter watches Jason as he puts the rest of the books into place, the stack nearly gone. When Peter comes back, not if. Which, like, yeah, that's how libraries work. Come back and return the book, obviously. But it felt more like he was asking Peter to keep coming back.

They aren't subtle at all.

"Cool." Peter grins, handing the last book to Jason.

Jason's hand lands on Peter's head, spinning him around and guiding him towards another section of the library. amused Peter's spider-sense hums thoughtfully, listening to the short huff of breath Jason takes. He's laughing about something, and Peter sort of wishes he knew what was funny.

"It's suspicious."

"It's probably normal." Dick tries, but Damian definitely doesn't agree with him anymore than he had a second ago. The younger crosses his arms and leans to see where Jason and Peter had gone, nose wrinkled with distrust.

Damian is not a fan of Peter.

He'd more than once mentioned that Peter is not worthy of the trust that everyone puts in him. Which Dick thinks he understands, from Damian's perspective. Peter obviously isn't telling them everything that they need to know, but at the same time, it's been, what, less than a month? It takes time for someone who's seen the worst of adults to trust adults to have their back.

But this feels more like Damian has a different chip on his shoulder than he's letting on. Dick would never, ever think about voicing this out loud, but… Damian might be nervous.

After Damian, Duke is the most recent to join the family. It had taken Damian a couple weeks to warm up to Duke, but there's never been animosity between them. Not like there had been with Tim. Damian has come a long way since he first joined the family. But that doesn't mean that there isn't nerves about his standing in the family, still.

That's all Damian has ever wanted. Talia is… a complicated person, and she loves her son, but the League had given him a complicated view on family. Damian felt he had to prove himself in order to have Bruce's attention, if not love. He had felt threatened by Tim when Damian first came into the family, and nowadays, it's easier to tell that Damian had looked up to Tim and still does. Despite that he likes to cover this fact up underneath a layer of snarky comments.

They're doing okay now. Tim and Damian have a lot in common, and they're both working on the Spider-Man case and there has been no bloodshed or fights. It's like a dream come true.

But Peter is Damian's age, and everyone has been focused on him and his case as of late. Old insecurities could be sticking around. At least, that's what Dick thinks might be happening. He'd have to ask Damian in order to be sure.

But they're at the library and now is not the time for that. Dick drops his feet from the counter and sits up, setting aside the bag of candy and looking Damian in the eyes, hoping to get his point across.

"Just give him a shot. You're the only one that hasn't had a chance to talk to him one on one yet. He's a good kid, I swear. He's not telling us the full truth, but he's not doing that out of malice. Besides, we're keeping secrets from him too, you know."

"Valid secrets." Damian points out, still glaring in Peter and Jason's vague direction. "Our secrets protect people and ourselves, and are necessary. His secrets are preventing us from providing assistance, and have any of you considered he's just really good at playing innocent?"

"Yeah, I did. And I scratched that after talking to him." Dick swears. Babs bites her bottom lip, wheeling closer to Damian to nudge his side.

"You know how expressive Dick is? Peter is just like that. He wears his emotions on his sleeve." Babs offers. To Dick's surprise, Damian nods as if that made sense. "Even the best spies show clues with their behavior. There are just some things you can't hide. Unless you're Bruce- which would be a nightmare-, and even try to change your body language so people don't recognize you."

"I don't wear my emotions on my sleeve." Dick protests, but he's heard this before, and is starting to think it's true. "Just- talk to him, once, and you'll see what we mean."

"I do find it hard to believe that anyone would be as capable of hiding themselves as Father is." Damian latches onto that part, and Babs scrunches her face before deciding to take the win for what it is. "Fine. I will talk to him alone. But if I don't like what I see, I won't be pathetic enough to hide my thoughts. I will confront him."

"Dami, please don't scare him away." Dick sits up straight. "He just came to us first, on purpose, and we'll get more information if he sticks to that."

That is true, but in his mind, he's just excited that Peter is hanging out with them. It means they're doing something right, even if they don't know what it is. They can't afford to lose that trust when it had just started building up.

"If Peter is as you say he is, then there shouldn't be a problem." Damian retorts.

Dick sighs, holding onto the worry for another moment. But Damian seems sincere in that he's going to at least try to see where they're coming from, and Dick doubts that Peter will give him a reason for confrontation…

Dick smiles at Damian, taking in just how serious he is. Dick can see the gears turning in his head as he calculates his next move, and a sudden fondness makes his chest squeeze. He's truly come such a long way, but man, Dick is scared to see how fast he's growing up. He reaches over and ruffles Damian's hair, causing the kid to squawk and slap his hand away in protest.

It turns out, Jason does know a lot about the library. He leads them exactly where he wants to go, barely even looking at the sides of the shelves with the system laid out.

Peter wonders how often Jason has been here to know where they keep this, or if it's just because this is his favorite section. Peter had never really been that into English- sure, he likes to read, but he's only really stuck with sci-fi, or whatever Aunt May had been reading. Or textbooks. He's read a lot of research in his time at the library, trying to keep up with school. However, Peter's arms are now laden with a different stack of books that Jason insists will instill in Peter a newfound love for reading: the first Narnia book, the first Percy Jackson ("Seriously, Pete, you've never read Percy fuckin' Jackson?"), Pride and Prejudice, and, curiously-

"The Secret Garden?"

Jason hums in affirmation, still looking through the shelf to add to his ever growing pile of books Peter is begging to be able to return before he leaves this world. Peter stares at the front cover for a moment, unable to hide his bemusement. He chuckles, and Jason asks, "What're you laughin' at?"

"Nothin'."

Jason is squinting at him now, one hand up to grab a book. Peter can't help but laugh again at the expression- Jason, rather than angry, is holding back a grin, but he doesn't know what Peter is laughing about, so it must be a little suspicious.

"It's just- This was one of my Aunt's favorites. She read it to me all the time."

Aunt May had read it to him as a bedtime story, back when Peter was still feeling the loss of his parents and having a hard time understanding change. The Secret Garden is a story about a neglected little girl who ends up living with a weird rich uncle who has a mysterious manor, guided by a robin.

Not subtle at all. But Peter doesn't elaborate what's so funny, but when Peter says he'll read them all, it earns him a smile.

Peter is riding the high of a successful encounter with one of the Bats when everything gets a little more complicated.

Jason is checking all of the books out in Peter's name while Dick and Babs are digging through the decorations box. Dick is now wearing a Dracula cape that is wrinkled to all hell, and Babs is attempting to find more lights to throw out. These are not the complications (yet?).

It's Damian.

He stands next to Peter, and he does a great job of pretending he's not watching him. But Peter knows he is, because Peter has his spider-sense. If he's being honest, the only of the Bats that Peter hasn't immediately felt safe with is Damian.

Sure, he can tell that the others are dangerous, even if they're not dangerous to Peter. Jason is pretty huge, and he has scars littered on his forearms and his hands from many a fight. When Dick walks, he's silent on his feet and his movements are swift, calm and loose as if poised to strike any moment. Babs, even, has an undercurrent of energy, and Peter can eye a part of her wheelchair that sticks out as a possible weapon, hidden in plain sight.

There's always the undercurrent of strength that he can sense, much the same as how Gotham always leaves a distant buzzing that never stops. But even still, they don't quite set off alarm bells the way that Damian does.

Peter has met many heroes and has studied with people from all sorts of backgrounds. One of his mentors is literally a former KGB spy and assassin, the Black Widow. He's learned many lessons from the older spider, but there are some that she has no idea she even taught Peter. Mainly, how to detect another assassin.

He doesn't know Damian's story, but the way he moves, the way he is able to keep his eyes on Dick and Babs and yet, also know where Peter is at all times, feels much the same as when Natasha is keeping tabs on where Peter is. Unlike Natasha, who's gaze is protective because she is one of Peter's mentors, Damian's gaze is… well, it isn't hostile, but it isn't friendly.

And herein lies the problem. Peter doesn't know how to approach someone like Damian. If he had sensed that from someone else, any other time, he'd avoid them if he could. He doesn't wanna step on toes unless he has to or he thinks it's funny. But he sort of needs to talk to Damian at some point, and figure him out the way he's figured the rest of them out.

"Hey, Peter." Dick is holding all of the rest of the lights from the box, walking a step closer to him and holding them out. Damian leans back on the reception desk and tries to be casual, but he stands with anticipation.

"Yeah?"

"How many of these do we think are salvageable?"

He has an easy going smile on his face, but there's an underlying agenda to his question. He had been staring earlier, and Peter assumes it's because, like any good detective should, he had taken note of Peter's observational skills. The battery box, the ladder. And it's a silly question, because the box had surely been inspected by the Bats carefully after that earlier almost-fire.

He wants to gauge Peter's skill levels. He wants to know more. And, well… this is what Peter came for, right?

"Probably none of them." Peter grabs one of the lights, pulling them out of Dick's hands and inspecting them. "They should be replaced every 4 to 6 years, and there's a lot of brittle wire here. This one is exposed. You should just go ahead and get new lights so you don't have to bother worrying about it."

"Perfect!"

"Perfect?" Peter is thrown off by the cheery tone, and the way the lights are already out of his hands and on the counter.

"I was about to go for a hot chocolate run anyways, we can stop at the store on the way back and put up the lights before we leave." He says, as if Peter is a part of it. And oh, Peter realizes, he might be a part of it. "Damian was gonna come with me, do you wanna come too? We'll need the extra hands."

He's part of it. How'd he guess that was coming?

"Isn't the library almost closed?"

"Yeah, but I have the keys, and it's warm in here." Babs is wheeling behind the counter, setting the bucket down. "We're going to see some of the Gotham Hallow Fest decorations. It's a couple blocks from here, so we figured we'd just chill here until it was time for it to start."

Peter has no idea what the Gotham Hallow Fest is, but he doesn't have to ask. Either it shows on his face, or they remembered he's new here.

"Pete, you should come with us," Jason sounds a little too eager. "It's not one of those scare things-"

"That would be a disaster waiting to happen if it was-"

"-but," Jason shoots a glare at Dick for interrupting him. "-it's pretty fun. Since we don't really do trick-or-treating in Gotham, some neighborhoods host Hallow Fest where they decorate the houses all spooky, play a couple horror movies, and sell food. It's a lot of fun."

"Your dad expecting you home soon?"

Babs had asked it in a noncommital way, as if it's a harmless question. But they all know that it it's a dig for information. However, Peter can't lie anymore about it. And he shouldn't.

"Nope."

The casual response throws them off, and Peter revels in it.

"It sounds fun." Peter turns to Dick, eyeing the atrocious hat on his head. "Are you… gonna wear that to the store…?"

Dick is quick to take the witch's hat off.

When Dick had said their plans, he had made it sound like they were going to the store after getting hot chocolate. He had also made it sound like they would just be grabbing lights from the store. Peter thought, I can make friends with Damian on the way there, and assumed that this plan was the plan.

It was not. Because of course, it never is that easy.

At the moment, Dick has stopped in front of the clothing section of the store- they hadn't even made it close to a hot chocolate stand. Damian has his hands in his pockets, grumbling about the time they're wasting. Dick ignores him for the most part and keeps up his search mission with an eager, cat like grin on his face.

"He's… focused." Peter lands on, whispering to Damian.

The other boy gives him a side eye, then heaves a short, tired sigh. "Richard takes shopping seriously."

"I can see that." Peter watches as Dick pulls a couple shirts off of a rack, eyeing the sizes, decides they aren't good enough, and puts them back. "I haven't gone shopping with an adult in a while, but my Uncle Ben used to get intense about it too. He and my dad both."

"You don't go with anyone when they shop for you?"

"Not anymore." Peter looks at the cart that Dick is amassing. There's a bunch of t-shirts with bands on them that Peter doesn't recognize, some have silly puns on them (this isn't a bad thing, but an orange Pumpkin Pi shirt sticks out as the most heinous), but over all, they're not anything that Damian looks like he would wear. At least, not willingly.

"I used to go when I was younger but now that I live with my foster dad, he does all the shopping. And it's mostly online, because he has all our measurements and stuff. He's not good with crowds." Peter and Damian watch as a running toddler falls in front of them, but before either of them can do anything about it, his mother scoops him up and continues as if nothing happened. The toddler starts screaming to be put on the ground again.

"Peter," Dick is holding up a big blue coat from the rack. He takes it off the hanger. "Stick your arms out?"

Peter, confused, does as he's told. Dick slings the jacket on over his current jacket, adjusting the collar so it sits correctly on Peter's neck, then fixing the sleeves. Peter didn't realize how cold it was, even inside the store. Outside had been colder because it's nearing nightfall, but now that the jacket is on, Peter recognizes how warm he's supposed to feel. Dick's smile grows wide, and he grabs a red copy of the jacket and puts it in the cart. "Fits good, so let's get another color too."

"Who's this for?" Peter asks as Dick helps him get the jacket off. Damian raises a brow as if Peter is out of the loop and Damian hadn't expected him to be, and is disappointed in him. Dick just beams at him.

"It's for you!"

"No it isn't." Peter blinks at him.

"It is!"

"You are not spending money on me."

Dick hums and doesn't supply Peter with an answer. He just sets the blue jacket in the cart, turning to a hat rack and combing through the options. The offending t-shirts inside the cart start to make a lot more sense, and Peter can not help the redness on his neck as hard as he tries to cover it.

People spending money on Peter really, really freaks him out. He had already made the conclusion that their dad is a billionaire- hell, he let Tim and Duke pay for his hardware supplies and his Batburger meal, and he was fine with that. Go ahead and steal from a billionaire, there's a 96% chance they won't even fucking notice. But this?

Peter has always been aware of money. He thinks he was born with the ability to know what he can and can't ask for at the store. May and Ben had always tried to spoil him, but that was reserved for Christmas, where they would get bonuses at work and they could spend it getting Peter a kiddie chemistry set.

Going to the store is another thing entirely, because Peter can see the money racking up with each new addition to the cart. They'd spend it on necessities only, maybe a treat or two if the month has been good enough for it. Then, in the foster system, he never had foster parents that could sit there and buy him whatever he wanted. Hell, if he got anything new, it was because he absolutely needed it.

He's never been the type to get brand new coats right off of the rack. Peter is the thrift-shop kid, he eventually became the lost-and-found kid, the one that would take anything he could get his hands on. He was 'church-handouts' kid. Tony and Pepper have been trying to get Peter more on board with getting new clothes, foods when he wants them, whatever. And he's been getting cool with that.

But man did it feed this hole inside his mind that consumes all of the good that Peter gets, that whispers in his ear that he isn't good enough for it, that money should be spent wisely and safely, that he should hoard what he can get. And to never rely on someone else for it.

"I-"

A hat falls on his head, blocking his view. Damian has made his way over to the other side of the section, so it's just Dick and Peter standing together. Peter touches the hat and looks up at Dick, the anxiety bubbling up in him despite the man's million-watt smile.

Dick flicks the lid of the cap, something softer in his eyes, and Peter's protests fall short in between them.

"Don't worry about it." Dick tells him, and for some reason, it sounds more like the voice he uses when it's just them, sitting on a rooftop over the city. "I have the money, and you're gonna need the jacket when we leave. It's going to get colder and colder, Gotham winter's are brutal."

Peter chews his bottom lip. "I don't like owing favors."

"It's not a favor." Dick replies matter of fact. "It's a gift. I'd just feel better about taking you out into a chilly Gotham street, at night, if you had a nice coat on."

It's a manipulative trick, is what it is. Dick has him read like an open book. Or maybe he's just had a lot of practice with kids like Peter. He knows damn well that Peter wouldn't accept the charity of it, and he's phrasing it like it's more of a favor for him instead. That Peter would be helping him out.

It's not lost on Peter that this is what he's doing. But he lets it go.

"Fine, but you're putting pack the Pumpkin Pi shirt."

"What? It's funny!"

"It's orange."

"'Cause it's a pumpkin!"

"It's a traffic cone orange. That's almost neon, actually."

Dick reaches into the cart and holds the shirt up like it's a gift from the heavens. "I think it's cute! Don't you think so?"

"It's cute for you." Peter supplies, and Dick scoffs, lightly hitting him on the shoulder with the offending shirt before folding it and putting it back in concession.

"Fine, fine," Dick looks over his shoulder to check on Damian, and his eyes catch on the shoe rack. He looks down at Peter's feet, and before he can open his mouth, Peter interjects with a hurried frenzy:

"They're my Lucky Shoes."

"…Lucky shoes…" Dick does Not Look Convinced.

The shoes on Peter's feet are a little busted, yeah. But they're made that way. Tony didn't like the idea that Peter has to take off his shoes in order to stick on walls with his feet, when in civilian clothing. Something about it being a waste of shoes when they get stolen, and also a worry that he'll cut his feet. Peter conceded that yeah, even if the cuts do heal and he wouldn't get sick, he does like not having cut feet anyway.

Tony made these shoes with trick soles. They're made of material that lets Peter climb on walls anyway while protecting his feet, just like his spider-suit. They're no longer bloody from his first encounter of Red Hood, because he had scrubbed them with a bleach solution after washing them off as best he could. He did have to resew the white thread on the side that looks like a spider-web, and he redrew Ned's signature on the sole. But they're fine as they are, and Peter isn't going to get rid of them now.

"Alright, no shoes. Just because this will already be a lot for you to carry." Dick reaches up and cups his hand around the back of Peter's neck. Peter grins because he's won this round. And for some reason, his chest feels warm at the small affection.

This is Nightwing, after all. Peter thought he couldn't see how the two were similar- Dick had been awkward and weird when Peter talked to him, whereas Nightwing was so comfortable in their conversation. But now, Peter can see it.

His thumb traces the back of Peter's neck as Peter reaches to grab another hat, this time to make fun of Dick with an ugly yellow-colored one with a bad pun. However, Peter hears Dick's short intake of breath at the same time he remembers what the back of his neck feels like.

The scar that's there. One of the many scars that Peter can't get rid of.

The spider-bite had come with a lot of costs. One of which being that Peter can't make any new scars: they heal as if the injury were never there, any illnesses he contracts are taken care of before it ever shows. His immune system is pretty spot on.

However, all of the scars Peter had gotten before the bite? They're still patterned onto his skin.

Peter remembers the day he got the bite in both crippling clarity and horrifying nothingness. The part where he got the very scar that's on his neck is the part that Peter remembers all too well, and spends a lot of his time forgetting it's there, for his own sanity.

It is one of the worst looking scars on him, after all. Not because of the size, or how prominent it is. But the location itself, and how it sticks out from under the collar of Peter's shirt. It's not a pretty sight, and Peter knows it. That's why he prefers to wear a hoodie if he can, because it's harder to notice it then. However, the raised skin certainly caught Dick's attention.

He doesn't want to talk about it.

"…Pe-"

"Look at this one." Peter jumps up to slap the ugly yellow hat on Dick's head, hoping his smile looks genuine. The hat covers his eyes, and when Peter moved, Dick's hand had dropped away. "This looks like something lame that you would wear."

"Lame?" Dick takes the bait- or maybe accepts it, whatever. His jaw drops. "You think I'm lame?"

"Old people are all sort of lame. It's okay, it happens."

"Old!?" Dick has now suddenly forgotten what to say. "I'm- I'm not old! I'm only 29!"

"That sounds old to me." Peter snickers, taking a step back and putting his own hat back on the rack. "Hey, Damian!"

"What is it?" Damian snaps (snaps? or is it just curt? Peter can't tell) from where he's standing. He's holding onto a nice brown coat, and Peter whistles as he comes to a stop next to him.

"Nice coat. Anyway, when do you think people get 'old'?"

He almost misses it, but Damian seems to stand straighter when Peter compliments the coat he picked out. He doesn't comment on it, instead keeping his face stern, if judgy about the question. "I would assume 'old' would begin around the ages of 30 to 40."

"Dami! No!" Dick falls to his knees- falls to his knees- and holds out his arm in dramatics. Peter laughs, trying so hard to contain his smile so Dick doesn't think he's gaining ground, and Damian wrinkles his nose in disgust. "How could you do this to your own brother? This is a betrayal like none other!"

"Get off of the floor, Richard. That is disturbing, and you are acting like a child."

"So I'm not old."

"That is not what I said at all-"

Peter hopes, for a little bit, that he had distracted Dick long enough for him to forget about what he saw. But after Damian led Peter for the light section, Peter could feel Dick's eyes on his back.

And Dick kept up the conversation easily, a practiced sense of normalcy. It was almost like they could pretend nothing happened, Peter could pretend that Dick wasn't watching his every move if he just ignored his spider-sense. But he knew that Dick knew something was up, and Peter started to get anxious about it. He started to feel like maybe this was a bad decision, because what if they think Tony did this to Peter?

On the way out of the store, he hands over the lights for Damian to hold, attempting to grab the bags of clothes that Peter did not need that badly. But Dick stops Peter with a hand on his shoulder, snatching the blue coat out of the cart. Peter tries to say anything- 'It's not that cold', or 'Seriously, you worry too much about it.'

But he doesn't get there. Instead, Dick is tucking the coat around him like he did in the store, pulling Peter's hood out of the neck and adjusting the collar. Damian ends up having to help Peter get the tag off, and he doesn't miss the fond smile Dick is sending their way.

Why?

Peter doesn't get it.

He still doesn't get it when Dick insists on holding all of the bags, and Damian holds the lights, and Peter is left empty handed as they walk towards the hot chocolate stand down the street. He doesn't get it when Dick puts his arms around both of the teens, making sure they're by his side, underneath his wing. He doesn't get it when Dick asks Peter about the books he's reading in the same voice he asks Damian about his school project.

It's one thing to care about some kid that's going through shit. Peter knows that, he knows that they're vigilantes that are looking out for him. But it's another to treat Peter the same he's treating Damian, his actual family.

The street is crowded, and stuffy, and noisier than he expected and yet, Peter is having a good time. Shocker, really.

The hot chocolate in his hands has started to lose some of the warmth it had when he first got it, but he doesn't know if he wants to let it go. When he had ordered one for himself, Dick had insisted on teaching Peter how to 'order it perfect.' That had included an insane amount of marshmallows, and while it's way sweeter than anything Peter likes, he somehow finds himself wanting to order it like this every time.

Babs and Jason are fighting over a game that looks like apple bobbing but they have to use a tiny scooper. "More sanitary" the vendor had pointed out. Peter agrees with that. Babs couldn't reach that far down in her chair so Jason is playing for her, but how she wants to do it, and it's driving Babs crazy and Jason crazy and the vendor crazy but they can't stop laughing. Dick is teaching Damian how to shoot a basketball- because apparently, Damian had never learned, and this was coming up in his PE course. Peter stands next to them, commenting from the sidelines. Damian is refusing to leave until he gets it right, and some part of Peter is sure this is because there is a huge bat-themed teddy bear that Damian wants but is refusing to outright ask for.

Peter watches the crowd with interest, every now and then scanning for danger. There's nothing, because it's just fun and games, but Peter can never really let go of the anxiety of it. He keeps eyeing the Bats on the ground with him and pretends that he's only looking up to see the sky.

In reality, he can feel Red Robin somewhere in the area, can tell that he's somewhere around the rooftops. Whether it's because he's stalking Peter again or because he's also keeping an eye out for danger in such a crowded space, Peter doesn't know.

"There is something wrong with the game!"

"I'm starting to agree." Dick muses, leaning his hip on the side as the vendor picks up the discarded basketballs. "Those were all pretty good throws."

"Hey, I run a perfectly legitimate game here," The vendor doesn't sound surprised at the accusation, nor is he raising his voice. He just tucks the basketballs into the bag in front of Damian with a quirk of an eyebrow and a smirk a little too wide for Peter's liking. "If ya don' like it, ya can find otha games to play at."

"These are always rigged." Dick complains quietly to Peter as Damian throws the last basketball too close to the vendor's face.

"Hey, Damian," Peter claps one hand on the other boy's shoulder, and points down the street towards other booths. Damian turns his deadly glare away from the vendor and towards Peter. "There's a shooting game over there, wanna try with me?"

"Ooh, good idea, Peter!" Dick is all too eager. Peter must have walked right into whatever plan the man is forming. "We can-" Damian shoots Dick a look and Dick backtracks instantly. "I'll hang back with Jason and Babs, the street is kinda killer on her wheels."

That satisfies Damian. He nods shortly and Dick relaxes a little. Hesitant, Dick asks, "Stay in sight so I don't have a heart attack?"

"Understood, Richard."

"Got it, Old Man." Peter slips his hot chocolate into Dick's grasp, and begins to lead Damian through the crowd as he hears a "Hey what?"

"You could have thrown that away yourself. Are you that lazy?" Damian comments as they pass through a group of teenagers- all of whom smell like mangoes, suspiciously. Damian is harder to read than others, but Peter still has yet to really sense anything outright nerve-wracking about him. Though he does always sounds like he's disappointed in someone, or that he's above them.

Peter shrugs, flashing him a smile. "I didn't finish it, and he looks like the type of guy who wouldn't let it go to waste."

Damian considers this for a beat. "…That does seem like an… adequate reason. However-"

"Have you ever tried one of these before?" Peter asks, digging into his pocket for his tickets as they get to the booth. There's a couple people in line ahead of them, so they're stuck actually talking to each other. "I haven't been since I was, like, nine, so I have a feeling I'll be rusty."

"I have attended with Richard before a few times." Damian tells him, arms crossed and his chin raised up. "If you need assistance, I will show you how to better yourself. You'll likely need it."

Not the way Peter would have put that, but he thinks that means Damian will help him out if it's too hard? Peter nods at that, and something in Damian's shoulders relax when he says, "Alright, thanks, I appreciate it."

"Which fairs have you attended?" Damian asks, and it looks like it's paining him to make small talk the same way it's paining Peter too.

"Um… Not many." Peter admits. "I last went to one with my aunt."

"Not your parents?"

It's curt, but Peter still answers. "No, they died when I was little."

"Apologies."

"No sweat." Peter shrugs. "I was too little to remember them. But yeah, I went with my aunt. There was- There was a parade. I thought I'd be more anxious coming here, but it's been nice so far."

"Why would you feel anxious? Because of the crowds?" Damian, again, sounds more like he's treating the conversation as an interrogation. His eyes are intense, his brows furrowed and his arms crossed like a weird 13-year-old detective. After meeting Batman in person and seeing Bruce's face all over Gotham, Peter can see the familial resemblance.

No, not even a familial resemblance. He looks a lot like Bruce, just with far tanner skin and green eyes, a more hooked nose. At the moment, he and Peter are pretty much the same height, so he doesn't physically loom over Peter, but his presence sort of makes up for that. It's like he's talking to Little-Batman.

"I guess that's one reason…" Peter hesitates, glancing at Damian and finding the boy had hung onto that. The minuscule raise of a brow, and Peter debates his next reply very, very carefully.

He wouldn't drop this on just anyone. But Damian isn't a small talk sort of guy, and neither is Peter, really. He can be good at it if that's what a situation calls for, but in this situation, it would probably frustrate them both to keep up this air of politeness. Peter can appreciate a blunt reply, and the straightforwardness that someone like Damian has. He doesn't get to see it often.

"My aunt died at the parade." Peter tells him, his eyes scanning the shooting game as the people in line lose.

The dinging of the toy gun pellets and the loud music from the speakers mix in with the noises of the city around them that grows more and more familiar the longer Peter is stuck here. Damian is listening intently, reminding Peter of a statue with how still he is.

"Someone knocked into me and I lost her in the crowd, right after we went to a fair. Wasn't till the cops found me that I learned she had a heart attack and that's why she couldn't find me. So I try not to go to these things anymore."

Damian is quiet, and Peter observes his reaction.

He thinks he chose correctly. Damian doesn't give him a pitying look- in fact, it's more of an understanding. No pity at all, and he doesn't soften his voice when he speaks next.

"But you came today."

"I did."

He tilts his head; it makes him look a little like a bird. "If you knew that it would make you anxious, why did you decide to come? That sounds ridiculous."

"I dunno." Peter shrugs as they step up in the line. "I guess I thought it was worth it."

"Why? It could have gone horribly wrong. That would have been a foolish decision."

"You're very blunt." He sees Damian almost wince. Or his version of a wince, Peter thinks. His eyes crinkle and his eyes dart away for half a second before returning to Peter. "I like that."

Damian stares.

"…You do?" He says, very much not believing Peter at all. Or, really, it's in the tone that says if Peter is being serious, he thinks there might be something wrong with Peter.

"Yeah." Peter grins, bumping Damian's shoulder and it knocks him, but not enough to make Damian step back. He wasn't expecting it, and he narrows his eyes at Peter. "I have a habit of skirting around the topic if I get scared of it. But you cut right through, that's hard to do."

"Not many people here appreciate that quality about me."

"Many people are full of themselves." Peter replies, tucking his cold fingers in his pockets. "…Where are you from? You didn't grow up in Gotham?"

Peter can't very well tell- Damian has an accent, but he speaks concisely and to the point, as if he had spent a long, long time working on his diction. But it's not a Gotham accent like Peter's gotten used to around here. Peter sticks out like a sore thumb because of his own accent.

"No, I am not from Gotham. I was raised by my mother in Pakistan before Father took me in." Damian again avoids Peter's eyes. There could be a million reasons for this, so Peter can't decide what he's nervous about suddenly.

"That's cool! Which city? My neighbor in Queens- uh, when I was like, 10?- she was from Karachi city, she always talked about it when she babysat me after school. That's near the ocean, right?"

"I grew up near Nanga Parbat, not near the ocean. But yes, Karachi City is on the ocean side."

Peter has to squint to remember his geography. "Nanga Parbat… That's… near the Himalayas, right?"

Damian nods, his lip twitching the slightest bit upwards. "Yes."

"Cool," Peter can't believe he remembered that. And because Peter had supplied a personal story, he feels as though he's allowed to ask (though, he'll be fine without an answer), "Do you miss it?"

Because many people miss home, even if they no longer consider it to be a place they belong to anymore. Even if it isn't 'home', it once was. Peter misses Queens every day, and he's not as far away from it as Damian is from where he grew up.

Damian doesn't answer for a few seconds. Instead, he watches as the person in line puts down the game gun and groans about losing. Peter begins fishing their tickets back out, expecting no reply, when Damian speaks.

"Sometimes."

He doesn't offer more. But Peter grins at him as they step up to the game. "Me too. Hey, I'm gonna kick your ass at this, by the way."

Damian's head whips back to face Peter so fast it looked like he should have whiplash. Peter looks down at himself to see if he caught fire, because Damian's fierce glare felt like he had that kind of power. If Peter gets a headache in a few minutes, he'll have to wonder if Robin is a meta and can make his head explode.

"What?"

Peter's lips tug into an obnoxious smirk. "Got hearing problems, Damian?"

Damian snatches the gun from the alarmed vendor and slams their tickets down on the counter, snarling, "We'll see about that, Grayson."

"I'm getting nervous."

"Dick, if you do not stay chill about it, I guarantee you're gonna fuck this up." Jason replies. He's too busy looking through the posters set up on the vendor's board to really pay attention to what Dick is saying.

But Dick is getting nervous. He's felt nervous since Peter showed up at the library earlier.

Peter has spent the better part of October avoiding them like they were water and he was oil. And then, four days to Halloween, he walks in and he actually chooses to hang out with them. Like. On purpose and everything. At the library, Dick was expecting Peter to run off after a little conversation. But then he accepted going to the store-

(Dick knows he took a big risk at the store, getting Peter all those clothes. But man, the kid has been wearing the same two outfits ((maybe three and a half?)) for the past month. And none of them are warm enough for how bad Gotham gets in the winter.

He just kept thinking about how chilly Peter is going to get, and then his mind flashes back to the water droplets that were in Peter's hair the last time they had spoken when he was Nightwing, and he couldn't do it. He couldn't leave without a jacket or two.

And somehow, that hadn't driven Peter away. Dick has a feeling the kid knew it wasn't just for his own sound of mind, but he had let it happen anyway. So the risk worked out, right?)

-and then accepted coming to the festival with them. Those are huge steps, he thinks. Like, Peter and them have been taking baby steps this entire time, and then Peter just leaped out of nowhere, and Dick isn't stupid!

Something happened recently, something changed Peter's mind. Or pushed Peter into this. And he has no idea what it was. Because the last time Peter had interacted with them, he had bolted out of the doors after meeting Jason. Babs had her Theory Face on, and Dick had tried to pry it out of her, but she affirmed that she couldn't tell him yet, not until she figured it out fully herself.

So what was it? What changed Peter's mind? What if Dick says something wrong again, and Peter leaves, and he doesn't come back?

What if Peter is looking for a reason to leave?

He's going to develop hives. Or gray hair- After all, he's old now, apparently. God, he will never let Wally or the others hear about this. If any of them had heard what Peter and Damian said, they'd never let him hear the end of it. He's not old. He's just old in relation to where Peter and Damian are. Right.

That makes him feel better.

But, now, the nerves are mixed with other emotions. Things that are eating away at Dick like they want to melt him into a puddle of acid and angst- and guilt, for some reason.

That scar on Peter's neck had genuinely shaken him to his core.

He thinks he did a decent job covering that from Peter. Because the kid had done a hell of a lot to prevent a conversation about it right then. Dick isn't a stranger to being distracted. Honestly, he wasn't ready to ask about it, and he knows he would have anyway if Peter hadn't stopped him. So he's glad the kid shut him up, and he's glad that it all went smoothly from that point.

But he can't stop thinking about it. He hadn't even meant to see it, or pry. But his finger had caught on the indention and he thought it was a tag of Peter's shirt or hoodie and then it was too late to pretend he hadn't seen it.

The scar wouldn't have been noticeable, if Dick hadn't felt it when his thumb traced it. On the tan of Peter's skin, the color is barely there, just a mark of white and brown that peeks out from underneath the collar of his shirt and stops just under his hairline. But the placement was- it was not a good sight. Peter would have bled a lot, and he would have needed help immediately, and all Dick could think about was how how how how how did that happen how.

He tries not to think about it, because he's scared that if he asks now, Peter will flee. And that's not what he needs right now, not after taking this huge step to talk to them and hang out with them. And-

"They're getting along."

Pride blooms in Dick's chest.

He was anxious about Damian and Peter talking, but he apparently had no reason to be. They're close in age, and Damian… does not have many friends. Or any, really, outside of his teammates. With how flighty Peter had been, he was worried that Damian's blunt way of putting things would have put him off. But Peter had rolled with it in stride.

Even now, Dick can see them getting along down the street at the game. Peter is smiling, bumping into Damian's shoulder, and Damian is relaxed. He doesn't even get angry about the contact. Damian had been suspicious of Peter from the beginning, stating that Peter had a lot more to do with Ohnn and the issue than he might be letting on. Dick has seen him biting his tongue all afternoon. But at the moment, there is nothing to worry about.

(It's all going so smoothly that it freaks Dick out.)

"They are." Dick agrees with Jason. It must be full of fondness, because Jason rolls his eyes. "Don't make that face at me, come on, Jay! It's nice to see Damian interacting with someone his own age for once that isn't on his team. How often is it that Damian does that?"

"It's a good thing, I hear ya." Jason waves him off.

"It's cute to see Damian actually be a kid." Babs comments, one hand holding her chin up and watching the boys as she picks at a bucket of cotton candy.

Damian is currently shooting at some targets and Peter is cheering him on… or, trying to distract him, because Peter is hitting his hands on the booth and grinning ear to ear like the cat who got the cream. When Damian gets a couple of the targets, Peter bumps into his shoulder again, covers his mouth with one hand, and holds out the other like he's doing a ridiculous cheer. Damian is making a face at this, but his shoulders are back like he's proud of himself.

"Look at that! He got a Damian smile. It took me months to get a Damian smile that wasn't aimed to hurt my feelings." Babs comments, and Dick winces. But she's right. "It's weird how much they look like cousins or something."

Dick doesn't miss the way Jason looks up at that.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That face you just made." Dick repeats the face, gesturing to himself with one hand. "That face. The 'I Know Something' face. You made it."

"I didn't make a face, you're reading into things again, Dickhead."

"I have eyes and a brain, Little Wing, you can't fool me when you're being obvious. Tell me what you're thinking about?"

Jason chews his bottom lip, casting a glance over at Peter and Damian. It's Peter's turn at the board now, and Damian is blinking at how many of the targets Peter is hitting. Which is… a lot, actually. Damian had hit a lot of them, but they hadn't knocked down. Peter is knocking them over one by one and Damian is scoffing. Jason turns back to the posters, crossing his arms and giving his thoughts a good turnover.

"It's just… Peter does look familiar. Doesn't he?" Jason says this slowly.

And something flashes in Babs eyes as well. Jason and she carry a silent conversation, and Dick's head turns between the two like watching a tennis match. Eyebrows raise, mouths thin, glances thrown towards Peter and Damian, then to Dick.

"What? What am I missing?"

They both look at him. And with a sigh, Babs says, "Nothing, don't worry about it just yet."

"Yet?"

"It's a weird theory, and I don't think it's right, and I'd-"

"Like to take your time, yeah you said that about the other theory too." Dick reminds her, and Babs shrugs. "It would be nice if you guys could let me in on your thoughts. Get a little team power going, yeah? Two minds are better than one, Babs. Or, actually, three, since you're conspiring with Jace and not me."

"I seriously think it's a long shot." Babs admits again, but her eyes are saying something different. Dick has known her long enough- admired her long enough- to know that she's got something in her brain and she can't get it out.

"We shouldn't worry about it yet." Jason reminds him. He's pulling out a stack of money from his wallet that Dick is sure is double the price of the poster, and he's setting it on the table for the artist to see. Their eyes widen and Jason just keeps adding bills without blinking. "We should just make sure Peter- and Baby Brat- have a good time tonight, and he'll want to hang out with us more, and that solves that issue. We learn more as we go along. Baby steps."

"But-"

"Problem."

Babs' voice is sharp, and it takes little effort for them to snap their eyes back towards Damian and Peter.

Instead of at the booth like expected, Peter and Damian have started their way back through the crowd. Damian is holding on to the same type of teddy bear he's been trying to get earlier, but it's clutched in one hand that's made into a fist at Damian's side. Peter and Damian are blocked by three older teens, much taller than either of them.

Damian is what Dick expects, in this situation. The teenagers are looming over them, one has a cigarette lit between his lips and he's attempting to scare them. Damian's eyes may not be set on killing anymore, but it's no less threatening. He's seen Damian gut grown men with his eyes alone. He's coiled, tense, ready to strike should he need to.

But Peter?

Peter has stepped in front of Damian. Whereas Damian's upper lip has curled into a snarl, Peter's face is calm, scarily so. He has the most impassive expression, as if he could flick the older boy's forehead and he'd be gone. His hands are in his pockets, his shoulders relaxed, and he quirks a brow at something the older boy says.

Jason is the first to move. Peter is saying something, and the older boy puffs cigarette smoke into his face.

The kid's jaw clenches and releases just as fast as it happened, but it was there. Irritation, anger. The only sign that he is angry. Peter's eyes narrow, and reaches up and plucks the cigarette from the boy's mouth, throws it on the ground, and puts it out under his shoe. He never loses eye contact with the older teen.

Dick hadn't realized he was approaching as well, not until his own hand was pulling the older teen back by his jacket hood, and Jason was grabbing the neck of one of his friends, dragging him backwards. He puts himself in between his boys and the teens, voice low and steady.

"Do we have a problem here?"

A flinch from the teen, an angry glare sent Peter's way. He gulps nervously, eyeing Jason and avoiding looking at Dick's face. "Nah, we don't."

"Smart choice." Dick claps a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly and feeling the teen tense up. "Keep making those. Now get out of my face."

His hands reach for Damian and Peter's shoulders, not turning to face them until he's sure the teens have made their way out. Dick releases a tense breath as Jason complains, "Can't even have a nice time at the festival without some punks thinkin' they're hot shit."

"You two okay?" Dick is scanning for injuries even though he knows that nothing happened to them. But still, he can't turn it off.

Damian scoffs, attempting to cross his arms until he realizes he's holding the teddy bear, and settles for putting a hand on his hip. "We were fine, Richard. Those low lives could not even dream of putting us in any real danger."

Dick knows that he would have been fine, but what about Peter?

Peter, who's impassive look is gone. Instead, he's got the most innocent smile on his lips, as if he hadn't just encountered older kids who were likely looking for an easy fight. Sometimes when he's under Peter's stare, it feels like he's being observed, like he's taking a test and Peter is grading him.

"We're okay. I knew you'd see us."

It's said with a lot of conviction, like there's no room for doubt. And Peter, he's smiling like he's made a decision, as if something had just been put to rest. He nudges Damian with his elbow. "Hey, show 'em what I won for you."

"I could have gotten it myself-"

Dick doesn't know what just happened. He feels like he was out of the loop- out of the loop between Jason and Babs, and certainly not anywhere near Peter.

Perhaps it was inevitable that Peter would grow to like these freaks.

Okay, "freaks" might be a harsh word, but Peter monologued it fondly. Maybe "weirdos" is more acceptable, but like, they did follow (stalk) him around the city and their usual demeanor makes him suspect that they are waiting for Peter's permission (or for a good reason) to kidnap him. So 'freaks' (lovingly) does feel the more accurate term in his opinion.

He honestly doesn't know what exactly did it for him, but Peter decided that everything is going to turn out just fine. It could have been the hot coco, or the nice jacket he's wearing. It could have been the scar that Dick didn't mention, or the numerable other instances that made him feel welcome. But it also could have been that Peter knew they'd have his back, and they proved him right.

Peter loves to be proven right.

He could have handled the situation on his own, duh. Because seriously, they were just some punk teenagers looking for petty cash. They hardly made his spider-sense sneeze, they were no threat to him or Damian. But the fact that they had been there within seconds of the problem arising? Everything just sort of… clicked.

Typical of Peter to need a threat of violence to his person to trust someone else. He should talk to his therapist about the pattern when he gets back.

Ahead of him is Jason and Babs, complaining that they didn't get a single prize. Next to him is Dick, who's messing with Damian's hair and explaining something about there being 'such a thing as too much hair gel.' Everything feels warm and comfortable, the most so that it's felt for Peter in weeks now. As they make their way back to the library and away from the Hallow Fest, Peter contemplates his next move.

When he had told Ned about being Spider-Man, it had been his first time planning to tell someone. With the Avengers- the only other people that know his identity- he hadn't planned that out. It had just sort of happened along the way of becoming a friend of theirs, and then getting kidnapped and experimented on.

With Ned, he had practiced for a week. He had a whole cool speech written out and everything. (He had practiced in front of a mirror, and FRIDAY saved him from the embarrassment of Pepper walking in his room and finding him doing that. That would have been mortifying.)

And when the moment arrived, Peter dropped the ball. Instead of being a cool, stoic guy that criminals feared, Peter ended up clamming up with stage fright, stuck to a wall, and said, "So… I'm Spider-Man, by the way."

(As silly as that had turned out, and as embarrassing it is to look back on, that was his best birthday party in a long, long time.)

He's already proven to himself that scripts don't work well on him, he's a go-with-the-flow kind of guy. He learned from his mistake with telling Ned, who thankfully still thinks Peter is cool even though he shouldn't.

So.

How the hell does he tell the Bats his secret identity?

…He might already know the answer.

A little payback for their own identity keeping couldn't hurt, right?

Besides, Peter wants to have a little fun with it. Their reactions to things he does is priceless, and he has to make up for all the times he was lame and pathetic in front of them. (No, this has nothing to do with the fact that Red Hood is super cool, shut the fuck up.)

Sure, a part of him is still scared, but he imagines that that part of him will always be scared. The unknown is always hard to jump into, he can't account for every variable. But it really is time to swim in the deep end and regret it later if it turns out there are secret invisible sharks in the pool after all.

So what can he do? Firstly, he'd have to tell Batman. He is sort of the leader, and by extension, everyone would find out after he did. Plus, his reaction might be the funniest out of all of them. Maybe he could show up during a fight with Two-Face, or he could stalk Batman and Robin again and pop up out of nowhere. Or he could leave more sticky notes behind as clues when he stops crime, and they could spell out "PETER WAS HERE LOL!"

Peter bites back a laugh when picturing Batman's- or Bruce's, he should get used to thinking- face if Peter were to web him upside down to a light pole and talk about how 'dangerous it is for him to be out at night, Old Man.'

That's when he spots the library up ahead. He stops walking, his heart sinking.

He knows that they're going to see each other soon, either with Peter as Spider-Man or as himself, but he still, for some reason, feels… disappointed that they have to split up again. And they do because there is no way his master plan will come to fruition if he's at their house… houses?

Doesn't Nightwing, oh, uh, Dick, he supposes- doesn't Dick live in Bludhaven, or something? Do they all live together, or…? Whatever their living situation, Peter would end up getting found out in a boring, usual way, or as a repeat of Ned's reveal. And Peter wants his coming out (actually rephrase that, Peter) - his reveal to be cool, just once, at least.

He is representing the Avengers after all. Until Tony gets here and clears the air, Peter- no, Spider-Man, is their only insight into heroes of another dimension. If he looks cool, they'll all look cool.

Also- there is no way he's going to their house.

See, now that he for sure knows their identity, Peter does believe they're trying to kidnap him. He recalls a conversation with Red Hood about how Jason was the least likely to kidnap him, and that Batman was most likely. And that sounds right.

There's Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, and Duke- and Stephanie, maybe? Who knows if there's another-

Hold on. There is another! The woman in the Batsuit that he saw the last time he saw Ohnn! Is she yet another kid of Bruce's? See? The guy has a problem, for real.

Peter isn't about to become another Robin, and he sure as hell isn't about to become another kid in their family. Not only does Peter have his own family already, he's also got a bad track record when it comes to that sort of thing. So it's a no from him.

"I should head back now." Peter pauses on the sidewalk, pointing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the subway. "Curfew is about to start."

Dick stops midstep, foot hanging in the air. He turns around to face Peter, mouth open as if he wants to say something, but closes it. Then opens his mouth again, and closes it again. Damian pauses next to him, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at the older man as he flounders for something to say. Jason and Babs keep going towards the library, likely having not heard Peter.

He looks surprised. Had… Dick forgotten that Peter wasn't coming with them? Had he just expected Peter to tag along to their house?

…He totally did.

There's a beat where Dick goes to speak again, like he's about to invite Peter to his own kidnapping, but Dick shakes the thought away, putting his hands in his pockets with a sigh. He gives Peter a small smile, likely not truly happy about Peter not sticking with them.

"You shouldn't walk alone this close to night. Dami and I can walk you back."

"Are you sure?" Peter doesn't want to inconvenience them… yet. He supposes that his Spider-Man reveal plan will be an inconvenience. "It's a pretty long walk from here."

"Even more of a reason for us to walk you." And then, as an afterthought, Dick scratches his nose and asks, "So, where is your place?"

"Upper East End." Peter holds back a grin. Dick definitely almost forgot that he shouldn't know where Peter lives. "Near Atinburgh and Livingston."

"Oh, that's the street Benny's is on." Dick walks over, patting Peter's shoulder. At least he sounded more natural this time. He turns back to look for Jason and Babs, shouting "Hey, Jace!"

"What, Asshole?" Jason shouts back, spinning on his heel to walk backwards. He pauses, twirling a set of car keys in his hand and observing the three of them.

"Dami and I are gonna walk Peter home. Get Babs back safe and meet us back here?"

"You're a major pain in my ass."

"Sorry, Jason." Peter offers, and Jason huffs.

"Oh. No problem for you, kiddo."

"Seriously?" Dick flips him off, and Jason just throws his head back in a laugh and turns to catch up with Babs.

"Stay alive, would suck if you died."

Something about Jason's smile at this joke causes Dick's face to fall for a fraction of a second. But he regains his composure in order to wave Jason goodbye. "Be safe, love you too."

"I didn't-"

"You two ready to go?" Dick is already pulling both boys by their coats down the street in a hurry, chuckling under his breath. Upon seeing Peter's curious glance, Dick smirks, and he explains, "Jason thinks he's too cool to say it; he gets all flustered when we tell him that."

Peter looks over at Jason as they make their swift retreat. Jason his rubbing the back of his neck as he opens the library door for Babs.

When they're further away from the library and now into a dead street, Dick changes from holding their coats. He settles an arm around Damian's shoulder, who resists the touch all too weakly for it to be a serious rejection. He doesn't manage to convince Peter or Dick that he doesn't want to, because he ducks close into Dick's side anyway.

Not wanting to intrude on that, Peter keeps a distance enough away from Dick's other side that is normal. He wouldn't want Dick or Damian to think he's clingy, that'd be weird of him. Dick's cool and all, but he's not Peter's older brother. Or parent.

Actually, sometimes, when Dick and Damian interact, it's a lot more like the two of them are father and son than they brothers. Dick fusses like an older sibling, Peter supposes, but it's just something about the way Damian looks at him, and vice versa. Damian listens to Dick more than he does Babs or Jason, as Peter had noticed over the course of the Hallow Fest. And Dick always keeps Damian within his sight, smiles fondly. It reminds Peter of when he was an unruly kid that Ben would smile at.

Peter is uncomfortable even thinking of including himself in that dynamic. He's just a friend, and it should stay that way. He's got Tony and Pepper back home.

(Tony's not a hugger, which isn't a bad thing. But seeing people hug like it's so natural would make him a little jealous. Because his dad used to hug him all the time, and so did his Uncle Ben. He can't remember the last time he had gotten to hug Uncle Ben.

… Peter misses Tony, and Uncle Ben, and that's why it's always awkward when he sees a family together.

He's the outsider, here.)

"You said you live near Benny's?" Dick asks him.

Now, Peter knows that Dick is aware that Peter lives there but of course he's going to pretend right now that he's clueless. However, his tone of voice… sounds like he's innocently digging for information. About Benny. And yeah, he should put a stop to that train of thought before it goes into Tony territory.

"Oh, no, I live at Benny's. I live in the half unit next to his, above the restaurant."

"Half unit?"

"It's sort of like a loft space? We share a kitchen and a sort of living room, but everything is separate, for the most part. It's all his since it's above the restaurant, but the bedrooms and bathrooms are separated by the hall that leads downstairs." Peter clarifies. "It's a weird layout."

"What about your Dad?"

Ah, there it is. They're always looking for info on Tony.

"Benny's a friend of his. Dad's out of town right now. Some work conference." Peter shrugs. Damian rolls his eyes none too subtly, but Dick misses it because he's too busy thinking really hard if he should be annoyed by this info or not.

If he was Nightwing right now, he would have gotten a real (or real-ish) answer. But Peter wants to watch them squirm, just for a day or two while he thinks up how to properly tell a bunch of suspicious folks that he's not a threat and is actually an ally and their friend.

"Oh, I see. Good guy, Benny?" Dick settles on.

Peter nods, laughing at the idea of the alternative. Benny looks like a hardass and acts like a hardass, but he's a real softie. Peter will see if they judge based on appearance if they end up meeting Benny when they get back to the restaurant. "Yeah, he's cool."

And then he adds on:

"You should ask him about the veggie burgers, Damian."

Damian side-eyes Peter, tensing up. "…Why?"

"Aren't you a vegetarian?" Peter tilts his head to the side, smiling sweetly. It was just a small observation he made at the festival earlier (he only ever had vegetarian safe food), but he had also learned that Robin is a known animal lover. Gothamites trust him with their pets like children flock to Red Hood.

"I don't remember telling you that." Damian narrows his eyes.

"I think you'll find my observational skills are unmatched." Peter teases, stuffing his hands in his pocket. They approach the subway station now, Peter skipping ahead of them to take the steps two at a time into the underground.

When he approaches the turnstile, Peter reacts more on instinct than thought or common sense. He hops smoothly over the ticket barrier, the New Yorker in him agreeing with the Gothamites that the fees are not worth the time. He nods at an older teenager who had done the same, and turns back to see Dick swiping a card into the turnstile with a small frown.

"I could have paid for you, Peter." He says, sounding and looking a lot more worried than disappointed.

"I don't believe in subway fares." Peter replies casually, taking a step backward.

watching… hello!

"Don't believe? It's not the tooth fairy, son." A new voice from behind him pipes up. Looking over his shoulder, Peter spots a tall old man with an unbelievably good mustache waiting for the train as well. He dons a dark trench coat, underneath which is a crisp black and white work suit. His face rings familiar to Peter, who takes a step backwards from the man and squints at him.

For once when meeting a Gothamite, Peter's spider-sense is at a silent on the danger scale. Somehow, that's more nerve wracking than anything else he could have gotten.

"Commissioner, nice to see you!" Dick greets the man with open arms and a brilliant smile.

Commissioner?

As in, Commissioner Gordon? The guy for the police?

The corrupt police? The Gotham, corrupt police?

Dick is hugging him? Nightwing is hugging this guy? Like they're old friends?

"Nice to see you too, my boy." Gordon pats Dick's shoulder with a friendly smile, and then shakes Damian's hand in greeting. He reaches out for Peter's next. "My daughter might have mentioned you. You're Peter, aren't you?"

Peter had been squinting at the man, unsure of what was unfolding in front of his eyes. But the man's eyes crinkle when he smiles at Peter, and his spider senses agree with whatever judgment Nightwing has given him, if the hello! hi! mustache! has anything to say about it. Also, daughter? He's only interacted with one woman regularly enough for that, and that's… Babs.

Holy shit, had he not known that Babs was Commissioner Gordon's daughter? This whole time?

He ignores his reservations and takes Gordon's handshake with an easy going smile. "Yes sir, that's me. Nice to meet you."

"Just as charming as she said you were." Gordon says nothing about the rather firm handshake Peter had given him. "You all headed back to the Manor?"

Oh?

Peter can't help it- his eyebrows shoot up and he glances towards Dick. Is Peter going back to the Manor and doesn't know it yet? How often to they kidnap children for this to be the first response? How much else does Gordon know?

Dick's face drops almost comically fast. He covers it with a horrendously charming but loud laugh, waving his hands around. "Oh, no, we're just bringing Peter back to his place."

"They aren't kidnapping me." Peter adds with a big grin, and Dick clears his throat.

"Oh, I see. As long as you're back before curfew." He blinks at the two of them, perplexed. Damian shakes his head tiredly when Gordon looks to him for an answer. He adds to Peter, "And you properly pay your subway fees…"

"Oh, Commissioner. I'm a born New Yorker. I'll pay the subway fee when I'm dead and have no need for money." The train rolls into the station, overlapping Peter's voice. Dick smirks when Gordon just nods at him.

"He's certainly a character," Gordon says to Dick when he thinks Peter can't hear. The two adults step onto the train after Damian and Peter. "Reminds me of someone I know…"

"Who?" Dick asks. Gordon stares at Dick.

"…No one, son. Have you met Stacy and Andrews?" Gordon asks, gesturing to two folks Peter thought weren't with him, but apparently were. They're a pair of people who look a lot like lawyers, with their fancy shoes and plastered smiles.

"No, I haven't. Nice to meet you, I'm-"

"Dick Grayson!" Stacy interrupts, snatching up his hand for a handshake with all the grace of a seasoned journalist waiting for a scoop- or a businesswoman going in for the kill. "Pleasure to meet you, I'm Stacy McGuire."

?

As the doors close, Peter glances around the train car. Damian takes a seat next to an old man who's traveling with a toddler in the cutest little frog themed bucket hat and boots Peter has ever seen. Damian has his nose scrunched up when the toddler waves at him. But that isn't what caught his spider sense's attention. He scans again, feeling the back of his neck tingle.

"Grayson." Damian kicks Peter's shin lightly from where Peter stands. "What's up?"

He shakes his head, holding up a hand to wave it off. "Nothin', just tired."

"Uh huh, sure, and I'm Santa Claus." Damian looks around the car as well.

Thus, Peter's gaze catches on two familiar faces, who are ducking down in their seats and covering their faces with their scarf and hoodie, respectively. Peter claps his hands together, delighted by this development, and ignores Damian's shocked "Where are you going?" so he can walk over and plop himself down in the seat next to a man with a wrist cast.

"Shoes, Lanky! How've you been, guys?" Peter grins, and Shoes curses under his breath.

"I told you it was that creepy kid." He hits Lanky's shoulder while he hisses under his breath.

"Aw, are you mad at me?" Peter pretends to pout, relaxing back in his seat with his arms behind his head.

The last time he saw these two, Peter had broken Shoes' wrist and stolen one of their guns after telling them to shoot him, when they tried to rob Benny's. Gotham isn't the smallest of cities, so he sort of thought that he'd never see them again, but here they are.

"Get lost," Shoes snaps, but Lanky sighs and leans forward to see Peter better.

"Hey, kid."

"What's up?" Peter holds out his hand. Lanky flinches but shakes his hand. "You two been gettin' into trouble?"

"Nah, man. After we last saw yous, we've been chill." Lanky swears. Shoes slaps his friend's shoulder again.

"What is wrong with you? Why're you tellin' him our damn business?"

"Peter, you know these guys?" He glances towards where Dick is standing near the doors. Damian has his arms crossed and he looks not at all happy with the development. Dick is trying for a pleasant smile, but he's eyeing Lanky and Shoes like they were going to attack them all. Upon seeing Gordon's face next to Dick, Lanky and Shoes curse and try to shrink back into their seats.

Shoes points at Peter. "What the hell, you little freak? You know the pig?" He tries to whisper, but he's bad at it.

"You wanna try that again, son?" Gordon sends a hard look Shoes' way. It makes the man shrink farther into his seat, and Peter's spider sense hisses: cautious flighty not happy. To prevent what could likely become an issue, Peter grins at Gordon.

"These are some old friends, no biggie." Peter waves Dick's suspicions away, turning back to Shoes and trying to distract him from Gordon's presence. "How's your wrist holding up?"

"Awful, thanks to you, brat."

"So you are still mad at me." Peter sighs dramatically.

"Of course I am you little shit!"

"You should be nicer, like Lanky."

"That's so sweet, kid," Lanky touches his heart, genuinely touched. "I try real hard, it's near impossible in Gotham, hear? Y'know, I tell him that all the time, but he never sticks to it. He's a grumpy guy."

"It's 'cause he's short."

"Would you shut your mouth already? You're gonna stink up the ozone layer with all the hot air you're pushing out." Shoes stands up from his seat and pointedly plops himself down in the seat on the opposite side like an annoyed toddler. Peter snickers and slides into Shoes' old seat next to Lanky.

"You said you've been doing good?" Peter can tell that Dick is still watching them like a hawk, but Stacy McGuire keeps stepping to get into his view and chatting away, trying to keep his attention on her.

"Yeah, man, we both got jobs down near the docks." Lanky tells him, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. When it lights up, Peter makes a face and leans away, his stomach dropping as he tries not to think about how much he hates cigarettes, catching Damian's eye. The other boy isn't even hiding his suspicion anymore.

"That's great." Peter replies. "I'm glad for that. It pay well?"

"Decent enough. We don't gotta do what we were doin' before." Lanky says. Shoes' grunts impatiently from the other side of the train, but doesn't make another comment.

?

Okay, no, Peter knows what this means now. He thought Lanky and Shoes had been what made his spider-sense act up… but it wasn't. He looks around again as Lanky rattles on about working for the docks, eyeing every face he can and ignoring Damian as best he can.

Something is off.

something is off!

Peter's brow furrows as he looks down the line. There's another man that's trying to cover his face with his coat, but there's a group of people eyeing him. Everyone who notices him takes a step back, or leans to try and see his face better. Which isn't typical of Gothamites, because they all like to avoid paying attention to trouble.

It's a face he doesn't recognize, just some older white man, with slick back blond hair and green eyes. Again, though, this isn't what the problem is.

watch it hey look it look it someone there hey look it

"…nd Tomas, he was lookin' for somewhere with bigger money, like we had last time, but I said the docks was good enough for now, yknow?"

"Uh huh." Peter looks towards the other side of the car.

Now that he's looking, there's four people in the train car that look suspicious. They're wearing dark coats and have black and white masks on. Peter can't tell, because Gotham always smells like gunpowder, but he thinks the bulk in a couple of their coats are suspiciously big-gun-shaped.

bad look it BRACE!

Peter's eyes snap up at the ceiling where most of the warning is coming from, and a second after, the lights spark out all along the length of the car. The train lurches forward with a terrifying rattle, metal screeching and grinding, mixing with horrified screams from the passengers. Lanky's body falls forward and Peter pulls him back into his seat before he can hit his head on a pole.

Slowly, painstakingly, the train comes to a complete stop. They're all left in the pitch black for a few tense seconds, then yellow emergency lights switch on from underneath the chairs and inside the tunnel itself. They flicker in the window when Peter looks out, trying to see if the threat is outside.

His spider-sense is acting like there's a threat outside, but he doesn't hear anything out there. No, it's not… Not an alive threat. It's something else, something that feels like it looms overhead.

"Peter- Thank god. Are you okay, bud?" Dick is right in front of him now, pulling Peter out of his seat and searching for injuries. Damian is helping the old man and his toddler and Gordon is picking Stacy up from the ground, where her high heel had snapped.

Dick's hands hold either side of Peter's face when he sees no visible injuries. He turns Peter's head side to side, trying to check his eyes and his temple. "Did you hit your head?"

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine." Peter is more surprised that Dick is holding his face between his hands than he is from the sudden stop.

(When's the last time someone did that?)

BAD WATCH IT RUN GET OUT

Peter throws that thought into the "Don't think about it" vault. There's the cocking of a gun and the four men from before get up from their seats. The blond stranger yelps when a man in a half black and half white suit emerges from the crowd in the back and yanks his arm. The blond stranger falls to the floor of the subway car.

The monochrome and deadly Fashion Statement presses a pistol to the man's temple. Dick sucks in a breath as he pulls Peter behind him, shielding him from the scene.

RUN worry BAD no no worried protect keep safe

His spider-sense is rattling around like crazy here, mostly in term of the closest person to Peter at the moment: Dick. But it also is talking abut Fashion Statement. Peter sticks his head out from behind Dick to see what's going on.

When Peter first got to this strange world, a man at the bus stop had a newspaper. On it, there had been a face he swore he would recognize, because it's so distinguishable. The man had half of his face scarred from acid burns, his upper lip permanently pulled back and revealing more of his teeth.

Two-Face moves his gun to the man's shoulder and pulls the trigger. The entire car jumps when the shot rings out, blood spraying onto the ground and the bullet lodging in the floor. The man rips out a scream so loud that it sends a chill down Peter's spine.

Dick takes a step back, turning his body halfway towards Peter. He presses a hand on top of Peter's head, pulling Peter into his chest, as if to hide his face from the villain. Peter grabs onto Dick's jacket sleeve as he inches them backwards more, closer to Damian. They stop only when Dick is shielding them both from the scene.

But Peter can still see what's going on.

The rogue steps in the ever growing puddle of blood and drops the man onto the ground with an disbelievingly impassive look. mad angry horrified bad bad bad bad bad- his spider sense hisses.

"Let's see how you fare in this trial, Deus Johnson."