Wayne Manor was much grander on the outside than it was on the inside. Sure, the long sloping archways and winding grand staircases grabbed his attention, but otherwise it felt… normal ? It was very lived in despite being spotless.
Alfred walked with a confidence from someone who has lived here for many years, and Peter didn't doubt that fact. Karen had informed him moments ago about how Alfred took Bruce Wayne under his wing after his parents had died. They were like father and son.
"I'm sorry for intruding on your morning, Mr. Pennyworth." Peter apologized for the umpteenth time, shoulders sagging as he curled slightly in on himself.
"You are not a bother, young Peter." Alfred assured with a smile in his voice. The man led the teen all the way through the bottom floor, where they ended up in a large kitchen that was surprisingly modern. It must have been redone within the last few years. "Do you have a tea preference?" he asked, gesturing for Peter to sit at the long island counter.
He obeyed the gentle command and slid onto a stool. His feet no longer touched the ground, so he crossed his ankles and rested them on one of the leg bars. "No, sir. I've never really had tea that wasn't iced."
Alfred hummed in slight displeasure. Clearly the British man had his qualms about the correct temperature of tea, but he couldn't blame Peter! They were in America, where iced, sweet tea dominated most people's tastes.
"Well then, we'll go with a staple. Does Earl Grey sound alright with you?" He asked while setting a kettle of water to boil, pulling out a long box of tea bags with different colored tags, likely symbolizing different flavors.
Peter nodded in agreement with the choice, resting his head in his hand and looking around the kitchen. He had assumed that they would both be quiet while the water boiled, but he was wrong.
"So, young Peter, where is your family?"
The innocent question sent a wave of sadness over him. Either dead or dying in a place where I can't help them, he thought absently.
"They aren't here." he decided to reply, figuring it was the easiest lie to get away with. Technically, it wasn't a lie, just a half truth. He could get away with those easily.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Are you living with a friend, then?"
Oh, he thought that Peter had a place to stay. Peter frowned, unsure if he really wanted to tell this man that he was homeless. "..I've got a friend in the area."
Also only a half truth, considering Karen was talking in his ear once more.
"Peter, Alfred Pennyworth is your best shot at getting help. The family that he works for could be very beneficial allies in your time here considering their wealth and social statuses."
"...but I'm not living with any, no." Peter confirmed after letting Karen's words seep into his mind. She was right, as usual. He would need to learn to accept help sooner or later, and this man looked about two sentences away from offering Peter more assistance than just tea.
Alfred frowned thoughtfully, eyes flickering across the counter as he pondered to himself for a few moments. "...you are not from Gotham, are you?"
Peter shook his head, confirming Alfred's suspicions. That sinking pit that was the teens stomach at the moment was starting to ease itself through their conversation. This was okay, this was fine , Alfred wouldn't do anything bad to him.
"I see." Alfred mumbled. "...young Peter, may I ask how long you have been alone?"
"Not long." He answered truthfully. It had been less than 48 hours since Peter last saw anyone he recognized or knew. The last face he could remember was Tony's, with an apology on his tongue.
"...I'd like to make a few calls, my boy. Could you wait here?" Alfred asked kindly with a smile, setting a steaming cup of tea in front of Peter. He hadn't even noticed that it had finished during their conversation, and he picked up the warm cup with both hands.
He nodded in agreement, giving the beverage a testy sip. Like he said, warm teas were never really his thing, but this Earl Grey stuff wasn't so bad. It tasted old, but in a good way. Maybe vintage was a better word.
Alfred stepped out, leaving the teen alone in the large kitchen. Its tiles were a warm cream color, and the accent wall was charcoal brick masonry, a surprising contrast to the old wooden walls. Various pots, pans, and other handled dishes hung from the ceiling on a rack over the island, and just above that was one of the many overhead lights. They looked like miniature stage lights.
The appliances were all a sleek black, and had strange brand names that Peter didn't recognize. He guessed Whirlpool didn't exist here.
There was a big window on the far wall, showing a view of the backyard. He recognized the winding path as the one that he had used to find the dumpsters. On the other wall was a breakfast nook that jutted out in a half hexagon, housing a little table with comfortable looking wooden benches to be sat on.
Knowing this house, Peter could already tell that there were probably two or more dining rooms elsewhere. No rich man hosts parties in his breakfast nook .
"How are you feeling, Peter?"
He wanted to be mad at her for asking a question at this time, but then he realized that Alfred probably wasn't paying attention to Peter at the moment. At least, not entirely. He was supposedly on the phone in the other room.
"...Strange. I'm trying to figure out what Mr. Pennyworth wants with me." whispering surely couldn't hurt.
"I think he just wants to help you, Peter. You're an unaccompanied minor who is injured and homeless."
"He works for a rich guy, he can't be that generous." he grumbled, glaring at the counter and sipping his tea. Tony be damned, the rich were never that easy to understand. There had to be some sort of goal with keeping Peter around.
"I was created for you by a rich man."
"You're different."
"Different how?"
"You're from Mr. Stark, I've never even seen this Bruce guy."
"They sound very similar to me, Peter. Especially based on the information I've gathered on the internet."
Peter scoffed, downing the rest of the tea and cringing at the way it burned in his throat. He should have let it finish cooling off, but Karen was really starting to frustrate him. The kitchen filled with silence once more.
Alfred entered a few minutes later, holding a cell phone up to his ear. He glanced over Peter, taking stock of the boy and giving a description.
"Sixteen year-old white male, dark brown hair with a white streak on the front–" "White streak?" "Yes, Master Bruce. It would do you well to have patience and let me finish my sentences." Alfred rolled his eyes, and Peter smiled a little bit at the sass. They really did seem like a father and a son.
"Where did you say you were from, young Peter?"
"Queens."
"From Queens, New York." "And he was digging through our trash?" "Indeed, Master Bruce." The silence that followed on the other end of the line told Peter that Bruce Wayne was thinking.
He was glad for his super hearing. Without it, he wouldn't have been able to hear the entire conversation happening on the phone.
"I'll be home before lunch. For now, set him up a room." "Of course, Master Bruce."
Peter paused, eyes widening a little bit. There was no hiding the fact that he heard Bruce. Alfred hung up the phone, and Peter was fast to start speaking.
"Did he say to set me up a room?" He asked, a bit nervous. He couldn't possibly stay here, he already felt like he was intruding after being invited in for tea!
But if he did stay, he could figure out what that secret room was underneath the manor. It had been nagging at him since he got inside. He wanted to get into that study and find the staircase.
"If that is alright with you." Alfred nodded in confirmation to Peter's nervous question, an air of reassurance wafting off of him. "I promise you that Master Bruce is not as bad as certain news sources have made him out to be." He smiled gently. "You are from New York, I have no doubt that you've heard a lifetime of insults about him."
Peter just nodded hesitantly, not seeing a reason to break his interdimensional cover. He could figure out plenty about Bruce from Karen, like a mini crash-course. She would catch him up to speed on anything he would need.
"Master Damian, Master Tim, and Master Duke are all at school already, meaning that you'll get to meet them later. For now, how does a shower sound?"
Peter couldn't and didn't try to hide the smile that slipped onto his lips. "..a shower sounds nice, Mr. Pennyworth." Peter stood up, eager to get the feeling of Gotham's Harbor off of his skin.
"I'm sure that I can find something to fit you in Master Tim's room. Here, I shall lead you to a bathroom."
The semi-tour that Peter got for the next ten minutes was overwhelming. Once again, they passed through many rooms on the first floor before arriving at the foyer, where Alfred led him up the grand staircase and down the left hall. Two turns and an archway later, Peter was standing in a large guest bedroom that was probably the size of his living room back with May.
"There is an en-suite bathroom that you can use. If you leave this door unlocked," Alfred gestured to the main bedroom's door. "Then I can leave you fresh clothes on the bed. Does that sound okay?"
Peter nodded, looking around the bedroom. As much as he wanted to fall into the queen bed and roll up in the soft looking blankets, he felt like he would tarnish the material with his current state. Showering would need to come first.
He flashed Alfred a smile and two thumbs up. "Sounds great, thank you Mr. Pennyworth." he beamed, backing into the bathroom and shutting the door carefully, clicking the lock shut.
Unbeknownst to him, the moment the door shut, Alfred's gentle smile faltered. He forgot to hide the boots and gloves of his super suit, I'll need to look into potential amnesia symptoms.
Peter's shower was plain and uneventful. He scrubbed his skin until it was pink with a loofah and gel body wash that was stocked bountifully in the shower caddy. He massaged his scalp and hair with both shampoo and conditioner too many times to count, relishing in the feeling of the warm water flowing down his back. The pressure was perfect.
He would have stayed in there forever, but steam was starting to fill the room. He didn't want to waste any water either, even if he doubted that a water bill was any problem for billionaire Bruce Wayne. It was the thought that counted, after all.
He stepped out onto the fuzzy drip mat after twenty-ish minutes, wiggling his toes in contentment. He felt thoroughly clean , and the hot water had let his muscles relax wonderfully.
Unsure of what to do with his dumpster-clothes, he folded them carefully and left them on the counter. As for the Iron Spider suit, he frowned, more unsure. "..Karen, are you confined to the Iron Spider?"
"No, Peter. I can use a small sample of the nanobots creating the suit to make something more convenient to wear. Would you like that?"
Her voice came from a speaker near the neck of the Iron Spider, and he nodded. "Yeah, can you make anything?"
"Do you have a preference?"
He hesitated. Did he have a preference? It couldn't be anything too substantial, since Alfred might notice that he didn't have it before and assume that he stole it from the house. Then again, he still wanted to be able to hear Karen at all times…
"...can you make something that looks like a hearing aid?" he asked hesitantly. After a beat of silence, the nanobots that usually make up the mask of the Iron Spider sparked to life, crawling across the toilet seat and connecting together to make a small black and red earpiece that would wrap around his outer ear. When he picked it up and slipped it on, Karen's voice spoke.
"Does this work for you, Peter?"
He wiped the fog from the bathroom mirror, turning his head enough to see the device in his ear. Peter smiled. "Yeah, it looks great, Karen. I can just say I had it in my pocket so that no one would steal it."
"That makes sense, good thinking, Peter."
He beamed at her praise, eyes flickering down to the rest of his body. He felt.. Different. He could have blamed it on the interdimensional travel, but upon further inspection, he realized that he was different. Was he older? He seemed fundamentally bigger, even if it was just by a miniscule amount.
The last time Peter measured his height, he was 5'7. Embarrassing for a kid his age, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Now, he stood at nearly six feet, having grown at least four inches. It surprised him. What didn't surprise him was the fact that most of his wounds were either gone or mostly healed. The large gash in his side was just a mass of puffy pink raw scars, now.
He met his reflection's eyes, and like in the library, they were green. That white streak in his hair had just become more prominent since he had washed, and was a snowy white. Its presence made him uncomfortable.
He forced his eyes to look away and wrapped the towel around his hips. He doubted that Alfred was waiting in the bedroom, but he would still rather not walk out naked in this house he didn't know.
Peter stepped out into the bedroom and glanced around. After making sure that it was empty, and using his tingle to check for any cameras, he walked to the bed where a few sets of clothes were.
The first set was a pajama set with multiple golden W shapes on it. The logo looked vaguely familiar, and he thought that he could recall it from his research on the Justice League. It was long sleeved, with the base clothes being a deep navy blue.
The next set was a black pair of drawstring sweatpants with a plain white t-shirt and a green zip-up jacket. This one also had a logo on it- but of a circle being sandwiched by two horizontal lines.
The third and final set of clothes was a pair of blue denim jeans with holes in the knees covered by frayed white threads. Alongside it was a gray t-shirt for a band he had never heard of called Ashes on Sunday. This one got paired with a plain purple pullover sweater.
Peter mulled the options for much longer than he had to, his hair dripping onto the bedroom's hardwood floors. The pajamas and sweatpants both seemed extremely comfortable, and he wasn't sure if he was feeling jeans right now. But then again, he was likely about to meet a very wealthy family, and would want to make a good first impression.
In the end, his mind won over his heart, and he tugged on the provided black boxers and socks, followed by the jeans, t-shirt, and pullover. Everything was just a bit too small, but he wouldn't be complaining. This was the cleanest he had felt in days. Being in space in the Iron Spider suit had made him sweat an awful lot.
Peter went back into the bathroom and grabbed the suit. Then he briefly searched the room to find a decent enough hiding spot for it. He couldn't just leave it in plain sight- Spider-man didn't exist here, so he couldn't use the cosplay excuse that had worked far too many times back home.
He settled for tucking the Iron Spider underneath the bed, slipping it between the wooden slats that held up the mattress. It took a bit of wiggling and adjusting, but once he was done, no one would be able to see it by looking under the bed unless they looked at the mattress.
Satisfied, Peter walked out of the bedroom, quietly tugging the door shut. It was at that point that he realized that he didn't know how to find Alfred. Maybe he was in the kitchen? How was he supposed to get there?
"Go through the archway at the far end of the hall and make two lefts."
Peter sighed in relief through his nose, smiling. Thanks to Karen, he was able to make his way back to the kitchen in just under ten minutes. Even though Karen was giving him directions in his ear, he still needed to seem somewhat lost just in case Alfred found him wandering.
Speaking of, Alfred was not in the kitchen. Peter frowned, looking around the room. "...Karen, can you scan the house and find him?"
"One moment."
Peter hummed a thanks, leaning against the counter. Being in a room meant for food made his stomach clench uncomfortably- he really should eat something soon. Ever since being bit, his appetite had changed drastically. He ate quite a lot now, and considering he hadn't eaten since before Titan, Peter was overdue for quite a few meals and snacks.
"Alfred Pennyworth is located near the dumpsters in the backyard."
"Oh." he said out loud, only momentarily surprised by the answer. Alfred had never finished throwing away the trash. Now Peter felt bad , since he was intruding on this man's time. This was his job, after all, and he hated to be in the way. "..I'll just wait here, then."
At first, it was easy. Peter kept himself occupied by asking Karen different things about this universe, its customs, and about Bruce Wayne. Every so often, he would ask for Alfred's location, and upon confirming he was nowhere near the kitchen, he continued his vocal investigation.
Karen proved to be an extremely valuable resource for him at the moment. Since being connected to the library computer, she had found access to almost every private and non private server in the world. She couldn't even do that back home, which proved to Peter that this universe was not as technologically advanced as his own. A silent thanks to Mr. Stark was tossed out, and he hoped that somewhere in the multiverse, the man felt his gratitude.
He learned that Bruce Wayne was not as sleazy as Peter had originally guessed. He had no public relationships, and almost all of his children were adopted orphans. The exceptions to that were Damian Wayne, who was his biological son, and Stephanie Brown, who lived permanently with her mother and visited Bruce occasionally.
Peter also learned about Batman. The vigilante had been on the scene for quite a few years, and seemed to cycle through sidekicks like they were plastic forks. His current one was a kid who held the Robin title. Batman's preference for working with literal children was… concerning at best.
Working with a teen was one thing, but based on the descriptions that Karen gave, this Robin couldn't be older than eleven, and even that felt like it was pushing it. This was also his fifth robin. The rest either retired or died.
Hearing about the second Robin's death saddled Peter with an uncomfortable churn in his chest. Beaten to death and then exploded, and the man who did it was still around. Peter frowned when Karen told him that the Joker was still alive, and had recently broken out of Arkham Asylum.
Peter hoped that Tony would avenge him if anything ever happened. It's not like Spider-man was Iron Man's official sidekick, but there was a similar dynamic happening here. In fact, Peter hoped that Tony was working to avenge his death right now.
If the multiverse was merciful, it would let Tony get the revenge that he deserves and live a long happy life in the afterglow.
Everything else that Peter learned from the conversation was basic information about the world and its customs. Superhero identities were kept under a harsh lock and key, villains ran amok almost daily, and the supers tended to keep to themselves unless there was a dire emergency. The Justice League felt more like a club than a team. Meet occasionally, only work together when needed.
"Alfred Pennyworth is approaching the kitchen. Arrival in ten seconds."
Peter frowned, but sat up straight and wiped the expression from his face with his hands. He really needed to change Karen's alert settings, he needed more time to mentally prepare for this.
Alfred's footsteps entered the kitchen ten seconds later, just as Karen predicted, and Peter looked over with an easy smile. "Hey, Mr. Pennyworth."
Alfred smiled, looking a bit surprised to see Peter. He glanced over him, appraising the outfit and giving a very subtle nod of approval. Peter wasn't sure if it was approval to him for his selection, or to himself for providing such a fashionable choice.
"Young Peter, I hadn't realized you would be out so fast. My apologies. Was finding the kitchen easy?" he asked, tugging off his white gloves and setting them neatly on the counter so that he could wash his hands.
Peter shrugged. "I got a little lost, a lot of these hallways look the same." he replied, glancing at the back of Alfred's head.
The butler nodded in understanding, turning off the faucet with his elbow after a moment. "You sound just like the rest of Master Bruce's children." he chuckled softly, not seeing the look of panic on Peter's face at that statement.
Peter acted like Bruce's kids, and he wasn't sure that was a good thing. He didn't want to get attached to these guys, and he didn't want them to get attached either.
"How many kids live here?" Peter asked, evening out his voice as much as he could.
"Three, though he has seven. I'm sure you know that already, though." Alfred hummed, opening the fridge and retrieving a few fresh vegetables.
Peter nodded absently, and after a few seconds, spoke up once more. "...whatcha makin?"
"I was going to prepare a brunch, I'm sure that you're hungry." Alfred replied, rinsing off bell peppers, green onions, and tomatoes in the sink. "Do you like omelets?" Peter could hear the man's smile.
"Yeah, omelets are good. But I can't eat them with bacon."
"Master Bruce is Jewish, so that should not be an issue." Alfred assured.
Peter nodded in understanding, not that Alfred could see. "That's cool, I didn't know that."
Alfred used the knife and cutting board to slide the chopped bell pepper pieces into a small bowl, then he started on the rest of the produce. "We do have beef sausage that I could mix in if you were wanting meat. Would you like that?"
"...Yeah, if it's not too much of a bother." Getting protein into his system sounded heavenly right about now.
"Beef sausage omelets it is then, young Peter. How many shall I make you?"
"How many?"
"Yes, how many?"
Peter paused. He needed to say a normal number. No regular teenage boy would eat seven omelets in a day, even if he really wanted seven omelets. Alfred seemed to somehow understand his quiet dilemma, even if it was only slightly.
"Whatever you don't finish, I can pack away to be reheated." He assured, glancing over his shoulder to Peter.
The teen bit the inside of his cheek, and after a moment, nodded to him. "...uh, maybe seven? Or eight?"
Alfred paused, obviously not prepared for the answer. He nodded after a moment of collecting himself, making some sort of mental decision. "As you wish, young Peter. It shouldn't take too long."
Peter learned very quickly that Alfred's cooking was a weapon. His control of flavor, texture, and quality truly made him an asset to the culinary community. All seven omelets were eaten within minutes of being served, and Peter found himself missing their delicious flavor, despite his semi-full stomach.
Now that Peter had bathed and eaten, he felt very content with himself. He could almost forget about the conversation that had happened earlier between Alfred and Bruce over the phone. He said almost, because the unmistakable sound of the Manor's front door being open sounded softly in the kitchen.
Peter felt every muscle in his body tense up, and he crossed his arms uncomfortably in his chair. He was about to meet Bruce Wayne . The teen counted the footsteps until they paused in the threshold of the kitchen a few minutes later. Suddenly, Peter's tingle spiked frantically, buzzing around the back of his neck and shoulders, making his spine itch. This man was dangerous.
Alfred turned from the sink where he had been cleaning up and smiled gently at the man a few feet behind Peter. "Ah, welcome home Master Bruce. This is Peter."
A large man rounded the island and stood at the end, wearing a black suit pressed to perfection with a forest green tie tucked under the white collar. His hair was oily black, and only had a few stray grays on his hairline. His eyes were a deep blue, but they held a gentleness when they looked over peter.
Just like Alfred, Bruce was seeing a homeless teen with bruises painting his face. At least now he was clean and clothed.
"Peter, it's nice to meet you." Bruce smiled gently, extending a large hand. Peter shook it hesitantly, feeling suddenly small while sitting at the counter. He wanted to run and hide .
"You too, Mr. Wayne." Peter replied quietly. He immediately noticed the way that Bruce assessed Peter with a few once-overs. It was similar to Natasha, or Steve. They were always telling him something or another about knowing your opponent before they knew you.
"Please, call me Bruce." When Peter nodded, Bruce continued. "I hear you were knee-deep in my dumpsters when Alfred found you." he joked, obviously trying to ease the tense teen.
Peter noticed and forced himself to relax his shoulders, nodding a bit and letting his smile loosen up. "...yeah, I'm sorry about that. I just figured that diving in the richer neighborhoods was safer than the city.. Plus, y'know, a more valuable yield and all."
Bruce Wayne nodded, easing himself into a stool. "That makes a lot of sense, great observation, Peter." he approved, much to Peter's surprise. He hadn't expected for this man to be critiquing his dumpster diving tactics. "What's your last name, kid?"
"...Parker." No harm in telling Bruce that. The man wouldn't find anything if he paid off the police to give him records.
"Peter Parker, I like that. Where's your family at, Peter?"
The teen bit the inside of his cheek, glancing down at the counter when Bruce asked about his family. The air in the kitchen became tense, and for a moment, Peter felt his vision get a little blurry.
"...not anywhere near here. My uh.. Uncle died a few years ago. I left my aunt to go on a foreign study with my mentor, and my mentor was…" he hesitated, trying to find the right word. "... is out of the country at the moment. I'm not sure where he went."
The perfect half-truth.
Bruce seemed to mull over his answer, brows pinching together slightly. "...I see. Do you have any names we can potentially look up? Or a phone number?"
Peter sighed through his nose. "...May Parker-Jameson is my aunt. My mentor is Tony Stark." he knew that both of those would yield no search results. He had already tried and failed.
"I appreciate your honesty, Peter." Bruce smiled and reassured. "We're gonna let you stay here for the time being, okay? We won't call CPS."
Peter frowned. That thought never even crossed his mind- of course someone would try calling CPS on this homeless teen! But not Bruce, apparently.
"Bruce Wayne has a tendency to take in homeless orphaned teens."
Very informative, Karen, Thank you so much. Peter thought sarcastically. He had figured that out after learning more about Bruce's kids. Peter just… didn't want to be another one of this man's charity cases.
"Thanks, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce and Alfred both shared a glance and a smile, and Bruce stood up. "I'm going to finish the rest of my workday from home, Alfred. Peter, if you need me, I'll be in my study, okay? Though I'm sure that Alfred can help you with anything you may need."
"Okay." Peter nodded, staying in his seat. He tracked the man as he crossed the room to the entry archway.
"The rest of the kids will be home this afternoon after school. I'll go ahead and let them know in advance of your unexpected stay, that sound okay to you?" Bruce asked, already pulling his phone out.
"Sure." the teen shrugged idly.
"Thanks, Peter." Bruce smiled.
Batchat
Bruce ; We've got a situation at the Manor, everyone be ready to meet a new face when you get home.
Duke ; oh god don't tell me you adopted another one
Tim ; Is seven not enough, old man?
Bruce ; I'm serious, boys.
Dick ; What's their name?? :D
Bruce ; Peter Parker. I'm going to do some digging. I'd like to have everyone home this weekend so that we can all get a look at him.
Bruce ; That means Jason, too.
Dick Wayne added Jason Todd-Wayne to the Batchat.
Jason Todd-Wayne left the Batchat.
Bruce ; I'll message him privately.
Dick ; :((( why is he so stubborn
Tim ; Because he's your brother. B, what's the situation?
Bruce ; Homeless teen from Queens. Alfred found him digging through the dumpster wearing destroyed clothes and a supersuit. He's got signs of a Lazarus Pit being used.
Duke ; oh shit
Tim ; White hair, green eyes?
Bruce ; Yes.