It had been one week since Peter had gotten injured on that patrol, and quite a lot had happened in the manor since then. Firstly, Damian was still grounded. The more that Peter tried to think about why, the more his mind drifted to unpleasant scenarios and answers that he continued to downright reject.
There's no way that Damian is Robin, anyways. He wouldn't do that, and Bruce wouldn't let him.
Surely.
…but what if.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, Tim had opened back up and apologized for insulting Tony. Of course, it was a quiet apology, saved just for the two of them. Tim had apparently waited up all night for Peter to wander out of his room, meeting him in the bedroom hallway, where they quickly moved to a nearby common room to talk.
The night meeting had been oddly comforting. Tim apologized, Peter accepted it, and they even hugged . It only lasted for a few seconds, but to Peter, it lasted a century. It had been one of the nicest hugs he'd had in a long time. Tim was great at giving physical comfort, it seemed.
But on top of all of this? Peter was still grounded , which meant no Spider-man .
He protested the motion just about every day. Whenever he and Alfred were in the same room together, Peter had made it a point to emphasize just how good he was feeling. He would talk about how his healing factor was kicked into overdrive, and how he already felt ready to spring back into action.
Peter was stubborn, but Alfred was even more so. No matter how hard Peter tried making the man understand that he was fine now , the butler had refused to lift the ban. He even went as far as to confiscate the Spider Armor when he caught Peter trying to sneak out on night two!
Of course, it was swiftly returned the next morning, served with a stern lecture from Alfred about respecting his elders.
Peter had plenty of respect for Alfred: what he lacked was respect for his decisions.
The more time he spent in the manor, though, the more that he learned that Alfred's word was law . Knowing that he was fighting a losing battle, Peter relented shortly after the lecture. Even with his suit returned, he dared not risk sneaking out again.
But, with both Peter and Damian grounded, it left them both plenty of time to fill with each other's presence.
"I don't get it." Peter huffed loudly, squinting down at the large art textbook. Damian had surprisingly been open to exploring other study subjects, and he obviously let him lead the way. The kid seemed to like having control, and Peter felt no obligation to deny him any. Besides, they were using his books in his room.
"What can you not grasp?" Damian asked casually, green gaze flicking between Peter's frustrated expression and the book between them on the bed. If you had told Damian that he and Peter would be sitting in the comfort of each other in mere weeks, he would have laughed smugly in your face.
But now Damian could only smile softly as he taught Peter everything he wished to share.
Peter propped his head up on his hand, continuing to look down at the page. "How is this art? "
Damian followed the older teen's gaze back down to the page where an image of Monticello was printed in bold colors. Underneath the image were large blocks of text describing the Virginian estate, its origins, and its architectural style.
"...well," Damian hummed, adjusting the book so that it was pointed more toward Peter, gesturing for the teen to start reading. "Monticello is a piece of architecture, yes? Therefore, it required prolonged thought and design to bring it to completion."
"And it was designed by Thomas Jefferson?"
"Yes."
"But I thought he was a President."
Damian sighed heavily through his nose, feeling himself teeter on the edge of frustration. "Thomas Jefferson was more than just the third President, Parker. He was an architect, congressman, and foreign minister in France."
"Ew, who would willingly go to France? "
Before Damian could bring himself to start another lecture on the importance of foreign countries and their exports, he noticed a hint of a tease in Peter's voice. It dawned on him very quickly that Peter was only joking, and that there was no real need for an instructive interjection at the time.
Still, the thought of educating Peter, and proving his own intellectual superiority, was a satisfying one.
"...a neanderthal." Damian settled for the simple two words as his answer, holding back a small smirk as he looked back down to the textbook once more. He turned the page to a diagram of Monticello, preparing to continue explaining the artistic influences, when he was suddenly bombarded by Peter's very amused voice.
" Dami- " he started with a barely contained snicker, "Was that a joke? " he covered his mouth with his hand, joy evident on his features and in his voice.
"... what , do you believe me to be incapable of basic humor?" Damian scoffed, leaning back and away from the book to give Peter a certain look, with raised brows and a light frown. "You forget the imbeciles that I live with."
The way that Peter so openly allowed himself to laugh after Damian's remarks made something in the youngest Wayne's chest settle. Like that constantly raging storm inside of him had finally found a moment of reprieve. The joy that Peter radiated was infectious , and part of Damian knew that he did not want a cure. So he instead let the small smile grow on his own face.
"Don't be so amused , Parker. You will soon learn that my humor is superior to my siblings in every way." he hummed, rather satisfied with himself. He crossed his arms over his chest.
"S-Sure–" Peter's laugh devolved into snickers behind his hand once more, leaning back on the bed and turning his face away from Damian to hide the pure glee on his face. "Whatever you say, dude."
"I am one of the most emotionally intact members of this family, don't you know this?" Sure, Damian's tone had slipped into one that was light hearted, but he truly did believe his own words. Despite his years in the League, having the influence of his mother, and later the Wayne family, had really helped improve his emotional maturity. Or at least, it was continuing to help his emotional maturity. Damian made plenty of mistakes.
The sudden memory of his first meeting with Peter came to the forefront of his mind, blurring the sight of the bemused Peter before him.
The look of panic.
The commotion in the library.
The fear .
Damian felt something shift in his gut as he was internally reminded of his own emotional failures. It had seemed that so far, every notable experience with Peter had involved Damian attempting to attack him.
One of those attempts had been successful, and he regretted it everyday for the past week. Maybe though, he could atone for that abuse. Perhaps Peter would be forgiving.
"...Peter."
The teen on the bed paused, breath faltering for just a moment. Damian had just called him Peter . Not Parker, or some demeaning insult. He had called him Peter .
He turned his head to look at Damian, letting his joyous smile fall into a look of hesitant confusion, grin becoming much softer. "..uh… yeah?"
Damian turned to fully face Peter, face stony. His brows had been pushed together, and his mouth had been pressed into a thin-lined frown. Honestly, he looked like he was thinking really hard . Then, he took a breath through his nose, letting his eyes shift up to meet Peter's.
Green looked into green.
"...allow me to finish my statements entirely before you decide to comment. I would like to get this over with in one go to avoid any misspoken words or second guesses." Damian's request sounded more like a demand, but regardless, Peter nodded. The young Wayne took another deep breath before speaking in a tone that was… much softer and much more sincere than Peter had been preparing for.
"I am asking for your forgiveness. I have mistreated you over the course of the last few weeks in ways that are indisputably disgusting." The raw power of the statement made something in Peter's chest soften, and his mind became fuzzy. "I was afraid of the impact that you would have on my family, and it frightened me enough to attempt to hurt you. Looking back at my actions, I can only dread what would have happened if I had hurt you-"
Damian seemed to suddenly pause, like a memory had hit him like a freight train. Peter knew better than to interrupt him, and instead waited patiently for the boy to start talking once more.
"... you scared me. You were something new, and upon hearing of your less than human nature, I was even more worried about the things that you could do. I.. I see now that I was mistaken. So, again," the boy finally allowed his eyes to meet Peter's again. "I'm sorry ."
For a long few seconds, Peter Parker could only stare at Damian with a painfully neutral expression. While on the outside he seemed uncaring toward the words, he was internally picking apart every piece of the apology. Those seconds felt like they lasted hours, and Damian almost felt himself break out into a nervous sweat under Peter's gaze.
But then those unnaturally green eyes softened, and a little smile found its way onto the New Yorker's face. The mere sight of it made Damian's heart and mind fuzzy with relief.
"...yeah, I forgive you." The words were simple, sweet, and sincere. Peter's gaze grew fond, and a suddenly teasing sheen fell over his face. "Just don't call me Peter again, I almost thought I was in trouble or something-" he joked, letting a chuckle fall on the tail end of his words.
Damian sighed silently in relief, shoulders relaxing. That had been likely the hardest apology he had ever given, but it went without a hitch. A small smile climbed its way onto his face. "Sure, Parker . Whatever you say."
"Now c'mon, show me more buildings." Peter hummed as he shifted their attention back to the textbook before them. It was a welcome change of topic. "Do any other Presidents have artistic houses? " he teased, skimming over the pages as Damian turned them.
Had they both taken the change of topic as soon as it became available? Sure. Did that mean that they felt any less comfortable? Absolutely not. In fact, Peter would go so far as to say that he felt more comfortable now. The apology had really cleared the air in the room, and Peter was able to put Damian's past hostility behind them both.
Besides, he understood now. Damian had changed his opinions on Peter, anyway. He would not attack him anymore.
The study session that continued really felt like their best one yet. When it was just before dinner, Peter left Damian's room with a newfound sense of companionship and a new knowledge set about random buildings throughout art history.
Night fell upon Wayne Manor quicker than Peter had expected. After having spent so long that afternoon with Damian, he really had let the day escape him. Dinner was normal, only with the unexpected presence of Dick, who came in at the last minute still in his officer uniform.
He joined the family for their meal, complaining about the rough shift he had endured for the past eleven hours. The man said something about how nothing could beat Alfred's cooking, and Peter silently agreed.
Dick was caught up on the most recent events of the family over shakshuka and a glass of wine (under the premise that he would stay the night at the manor.) Upon hearing about Peter being grounded from patrol, the officer could only tease him with a wide grin and witty remarks about 'Leaving the crime fighting to the police.'
Apparently, Dick had already known about Damian being grounded. Peter was not that surprised. Surely they had some sort of family group chat. Internally, he wondered if the Waynes talked about him in that theoretical group chat.
He was not sure whether to be honored or upset at the thought.
Regardless, dinner came and went. Dick and Bruce left the table to go down to the garage, Dick mentioning something about his car sounding a little funny on the drive over. While the adults went to play mechanic, Tim, Duke, and Cassandra all looked to Peter with expectant gazes.
"So? Mario Kart?" Duke proposed with a devious grin. He had been practicing, after all, and had fully planned to beat Peter tonight.
Peter hesitated, glancing from the small trio of teens to the even smaller figure of Damian, who was in the attached kitchen helping Alfred clean up.
"...maybe tomorrow night. I was gonna ask Damian to help me decide which suit to wear at the gala." Peter smiled apologetically. Cassandra and Tim both stared at him with looks of surprise and slow understanding.
"..okay, yeah. But we can't play tomorrow night, remember? That's the Gala." Tim rolled his eyes, smiling a bit. "Don't tell me you forgot when your press reveal is."
"I didn't!-" Peter scoffed, glaring playfully at Tim. "You know what I meant, dummy."
"Mhm, sure . Have fun with the demon, Pete." Tim chuckled, looping his arms around Duke and Cassandra and steering them toward a media room down the hall. As mildly upset as they were that Peter was not joining them, they made no verbal mention of it. Besides, Duke would just treat this as even more time to perfect his strategies that he would eventually use to challenge Peter.
As the last remaining person in the dining room, Peter made himself scarce by migrating to the kitchen, falling quickly into the assembly line of helping wash the dishes. While Alfred and Damian scrubbed at the plates with sponges and sudsy water, Peter was more than happy to take them and dry them with the hand towel.
The Waynes absolutely owned an electric dishwasher, but like Peter, they seemed to enjoy doing it the old fashioned way.
Alfred must have noticed the shift in Damian and Peter's bond, because he only gave the two small knowing glances every so often, a fond smile on his face. Seeing the two getting along and spending time together so willingly made something in Alfred's mind ease.
For the first time in quite a few days, Wayne Manor was fully at peace.
"Hey, Dami?" Peter hummed, not looking up from the large dinner plate he was wiping down. Damian only gave a quiet noise of acknowledgement, prompting him to continue speaking. "Could you help me pick out which suit to wear tomorrow? I've got two, but I can't decide."
"...I see you have noticed my superior sense of fashion." Damian stated with pride, standing up just a bit straighter at the implied praise. "If you insist."
"Why don't you boys run along, then?" Alfred insisted, gently pulling a fork from Damian's sudsy hands. "I can handle the rest of the dishes. If you let me know which suit that you wish to wear before tonight ends, then I can have it steamed for you early tomorrow."
Peter smiled, carefully setting down the plate and rag on the counter next to the drying rack. He nodded, stepping away from the counter. "Sounds good to me. Thanks, Mr. Pennyw- Alfred." he corrected himself fast, an embarrassed sheen covering his face.
The two boys left the kitchen side by side, Peter quietly explaining the two suits to Damian as they made their way to his room.
One of the good things about being grounded from patrol was that Peter really started to make himself comfortable in the manor. His room had a few more posters scattered on his walls, though there were still distinctly empty paths that he tended to pace on when thinking. His sheets were slightly bunched up from hastily making his bed that morning, and a pillow had fallen onto the floor at some point earlier in the day.
Damian had not been in Peter's room much, and took a short moment to assess the place while Peter approached the closet for his suits. "...you pace your walls?"
"And ceiling." Peter corrected, a smile on his voice as he pushed clothes on hangers aside. "Who needs a treadmill when I've got a big room like this?"
" Big? " Damian rolled his eyes with a scoff. "There are certainly bigger rooms on this estate, Parker."
"Well, obviously. But I don't wanna pace somewhere like the ballroom-" Peter rolled his eyes, pulling two dry cleaners bags on hangers out of his closet. He moved to throw them onto his bed. "I might leave footprints. At least in here, there's no chance of a visitor seeing them."
"Tt." Damian made a noncommittal noise, following Peter's lead and approaching the bed. The teen unzipped the two dry cleaner bags, revealing two unworn suit sets waiting inside.
Damian eyed the two sets carefully, taking in their form and color while imagining them on Peter.
"...well, you want to make a good first impression." Damian spoke carefully, reaching down to feel the material of the individual suits. The red one was more like silk, while the black pinstriped one had to be closer to cotton. "You also want to be memorable . My suit for my press reveal was green."
"Bold, Dami." Peter teased. "So I should go with red, then?"
"You see red suits all the time, Parker. Just because it is not a neutral color, does not mean that it is not common." Damian rolled his eyes. "What color undershirts do you own?"
"White and black." Peter comfortably crossed his arms. "Do you think it matters which one I wear?"
"Obviously." Damian scoffed. "I thought that Stark was a businessman, surely he educated you on proper formal wear etiquette?" The boy's question, while sounding insulting, was more genuine than anything Tim had said about Tony. Peter felt a pang in his chest, but also felt no reason to bite back at Damian. The kid was not trying to be mean.
"...no, actually. He helped me get ready for events, but he never really taught me." Peter explained, looking down at the red suit with pinched brows. Tony probably owned seven in that exact shade of red, and dozens more in varying others.
Damian fell silent for a few moments, before releasing a quiet sigh through his nose. "...go grab your black button down. Make sure you also put on a black tank top underneath it." The boy's commands were clear and firm, and he started pulling the black pinstriped suit out of its bag. Just when Peter assumed that Damian had made his choice, the boy then turned to the bag with the red suit and retrieved just the vest.
Without saying a word, Peter turned and went back to his closet, grabbing the instructed items. When he returned to Damian, the boy thrust the selected clothes into his arms. "Go put that on. I'll procure you a tie."
Peter followed Damian's instructions, a giddy feeling in his chest as he entered his bathroom and closed the door to change. If their earlier conversation was no reminder of how much they had both improved, then this exact moment certainly was. Damian cared about Peter enough to help him look good for tomorrow.
As Peter shucked off his comfortable clothes and pulled on the suit, he was reminded of just how custom that it was. The vest fit him snugly, and the black jacket overtop rested exactly where it should on his shoulders. The pants stopped just around his ankles, and were not too tight on his upper legs like he had feared.
When Peter looked at himself in the mirror, he was pleasantly surprised. The black button down offered a contrasting background to the red vest, which was then tamed down by the equally black suit jacket. Whether he left it buttoned or unbuttoned, the red vest offered a fashionable contrast to the rest of the dark outfit.
Personally, he would not have thought to mix the pieces from the different suit sets. Maybe Damian had been on to something about having the best fashion sense. He could not help but think about what Tony would say.
'You look good, kid.' Would probably be his start, appraising Peter with a sharp eye and a painfully neutral expression. 'You feel good?' He would ask, a hint of genuine concern in his voice. Tony knew that press events were not something that Peter typically enjoyed. 'Just stick by me,' Tony would say, finally allowing himself to smile at Peter. 'I've got you.'
Peter's chest swelled with fondness and pride. Tony would be so proud right now. Just that realization alone was enough to make Peter's confidence skyrocket.
When he stepped out of the bathroom, he was greeted by Damian and Alfred who were waiting patiently. They had both been standing near his desk, and turned to face him when he stepped out. Peter stilled himself while the two rakes over his form, smiles growing on their faces. Proud smiles.
"...why, young Peter, you look wonderful." Alfred complimented softly, a tenseness in his shoulders dropping. "I assume that Master Damian helped you decide what to wear?"
Both Peter and Damian nodded, giving each other a familiar look and small smile. "Yeah, Damian's great. His fashion sense is impeccable, man."
"He always has been the best dressed of the children, save for Master Tim, of course." Alfred hummed in agreement, crossing the room to brush off Peter's shoulders and straighten his lapels. There was a parental fondness in his actions.
"Psh- do not compare my superiority to Drake of all people. My personal opinion is that Stephanie is next in line for the title of most fashionable ." Damian rolled his eyes, following Alfred's lead. He held an undone tie, which was a slightly brighter red than the vest. It would stand out nicely against the suit.
"Shall I help you put on the tie, young Peter?" Alfred suggested, holding out a hand for Damian to pass the garment. However, the older man was pleasantly surprised to watch Damian climb up and stand on the bed, now taller than Peter.
"I've got it, Alfred. Thank you." Damian mused, popping Peter's collar and looping the fabric around his neck.
Weeks ago, Peter would have been all nerves over this interaction. Damian being so close to his neck, and so able to strangle him, was a thought that would have frightened him. But now? After all of the study sessions, artistic conversations, and apologies? Peter could not feel more comfortable than he currently did in Damian's presence, under his careful hands.
In seconds, a perfectly executed cape knot was pressed comfortably against Peter's neck. Damian pressed the collar back into place, eyes never wandering to Peter's face. Once he was done, and had smoothed out the teen's upper torso, he stepped back and hopped off of the bed.
Both Peter and Damian decided not to comment on Alfred's expression of subtle yet pure joy and relief.
"Now: is this what you wish to wear at the Gala tomorrow evening, young Peter?" Alfred asked, and for a moment, Peter felt like he was on an episode of Say Yes to the Dress . The thought made him huff out a laugh, smiling and nodding all the while.
"Yeah, this is great. Thanks for the help, Dami." Peter praised, holding out his palm. Much to his surprise, Damian understood immediately and went in for the high five. The gesture of solidarity ricocheted into Peter's bones and settled like a beast finally at rest.
"Since tomorrow is settled, I believe that I should talk to you about tonight , my boy." Alfred hummed, grabbing Peter's attention once more. Confusion crossed the teen's face.
"..tonight? What's tonight?" he asked, wracking his brain for something he may have forgotten.
Alfred hummed, walking back over to the desk, where he reached to the wall and carefully pulled Peter's hearing aid free from the webs that had been holding it there for the last week. Something in Peter's stomach flipped uncomfortably.
"You are no longer grounded from patrol, young Peter." Alfred stated, taking care to pick any extra web residue off of the device. "On the condition that you wear your hearing aid again."
Peter paused, staring at Alfred and the device in his hands. His mind darkened. Did… did Alfred know about Karen? Surely not.
Alfred took Peter's silence as his que to continue. "I know I cannot keep you home forever, despite how much I may attempt to do just that. You've healed in a record amount of time, and in spite of my own anxieties, I know that I cannot hold you here forever." He cleared his throat. "...however, it would pain me to know that you are out there fighting crime when you are not at your full capacity."
He held out the hearing aid, and Peter took it with a hesitant hand. "I know that your sixth sense is useful, but clearly it cannot compensate for everything ." Alfred's reference to Peter's fight with Robin made both of the kids in the room frown, uncomfortable from the memory. "So for the comfort of this old man, would you wear it when you go out tonight?"
Alfred's request was simple and sweet, and obviously one that Peter would abide by. He slipped the hearing aid into his ear, smiling faintly when it fit like a glove. The nanobots shifted ever so slightly, filling the space that they had previously been taken from.
"...yeah, I'll wear it." Peter confirmed with a nod and a small smile. "Thank you, Alfred."
"Thank you , young Peter."
The teen was then given a set of black stretchy work-out clothes to replace his old ones that had gotten torn during the fight with Robin. After changing out of his suit and into the underclothes, he gave Alfred the formal garments. It as then that both of them left Peter in his solitude, gently shutting his door behind themselves.
Ten minutes later, Spider-man was swinging into Gotham, a smile on his face and the wind against his body. He had dreaded the week prior, but being able to get back into the city was something that he was extremely happy about.
Especially since he had made a plan.
"Hi, Peter. Care to share your thoughts with me? I would like for tonight to be successful."
Peter huffed out a small laugh, landing himself on top of an apartment building on the outskirts of downtown Gotham. "Sure, Karen." he hesitated. "..It's nice hearing your voice again. Sorry for getting mad."
"Your emotions are warranted, as are my actions. There is no need for me to hold a grudge, Peter."
"Sure, whatever." he hummed. "You can make up for lying to me by helping me out tonight."
"Of course. What is the plan?"
Firstly, Spider-man made a stop at a convenience store. There, he pulled together the small amount of cash he had found while helping Alfred clean the manor, and used it to purchase bags of supplies similar to those from last week.
Within half an hour, Spider-man had made it to crime alley and tracked down Webster and his buddies. They were in a different alley tonight, but had a similar set up of a barrel fire and makeshift stools. The vigilante crawled down the wall nearby, whistling to get their attention.
"Hey, Webster!" The smile was evident in his voice. "Sorry for not coming back sooner, I got grounded." he shrugged, landing on the alley ground.
The men around the fire shared skeptical glances that were brushed aside by Webster, who had on his usual veteran's hat. The older man smiled when he spotted Spider-man, waving him over to join them once more.
Just like last time, Spider-man pulled up his own makeshift stool and passed around the bags. Inside were protein bars, water bottles, snacks, and other survival gear that he could afford on his tight cash budget. Internally, Peter reminded himself to ask Bruce for some sort of vigilante allowance. It would make caring for these guys so much easier.
"Good to see you, Spider-man." Webster chuckled, something gravelly in his throat. "Got a little worried after you left that first night." He admitted, looking to the fire.
"Psh, don't worry about me, man. I'm good." he pushed as much sincerity into his voice as possible, opening his posture and relaxing his shoulders. "Just helping out where I can."
"..y'know, all sortsa' people promise to help us out. Not many follow through." The veteran admitted, gaze becoming solemn as he watched the flames.
"...yeah, well I'm not just any sortsa' person." Spider-man teased, making sure to exaggerate a stereotypical New Jersey accent. He got a testy glare from Webster in response. "I'm the friendly neighborhood Spider-man, Webster. Helping people like you is my job."
The second part of Spider-man's plan involved the most normal part of being a vigilante: patrolling. After he departed from Webster and the others, he fell into his previously established route. He swung past alleys, peeking inside before moving on. He listened for any alarming sounds, and watched from rooftops as people walked below on the sidewalk.
It really did not take long for Spider-man to hear what he wanted, but it was from the little robot in his ear instead of Gotham's nightlife.
"Hi, Peter. Per your request, I am notifying you that Wayne Manor is sufficiently asleep. Alfred Pennyworth, Duke Thomas-Wayne, and Damian Wayne are the only three in the above-ground floors."
"When did everyone else go downstairs?" Spider-man asked quietly, standing on top of a power pole and observing a nearby park. It was blessedly empty, but the shady parked car with movement inside was setting off his spidey senses.
"Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Timothy Drake, and Richard Grayson all went into the underground shortly after you departed for Gotham."
"And are they still down there?"
"No."
Spider-man paused, becoming still as a statue as he both processed Karen's words and watched another car pull into the park, parking next to the first one. It flicked its headlights off the moment it was still.
"Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, Spoiler, Red Robin, and Orphan are all active tonight in Gotham. All have been spotted."
"Got any locations?" Peter hummed.
"None that interfere with your plan. Though, if you wish to return to the manor unseen, you will need to leave immediately. Spoiler was reported nearby assisting the police in a crime scene investigation, and I assume will be closing in on your location shortly."
That was all the motivation that Spider-man needed to fall into the shadows of Gotham. Instead of swinging out and proud like he was used to, he kept himself confined to the darkest alleys and unsafest back roads. Avoiding the Bats was something that he had anticipated right from the start, and having Karen to assist him only made it easier.
He hopped from one fire escape to another, ducking into a quiet corner when Spoiler soared overhead on a zipline. He stayed put until she had her back turned, then made his silent escape toward the rich side of Gotham.
Spider-man, of course, continued to do his job on his way there. He hastily webbed up a burglar for the cops to find, rescued a cat out of a tree, and helped a few street kids get a quick meal for the night. He even promised to come back in a few nights to check on them.
This friendly neighborhood gig was really turning into a friendly city gig, but how could he complain? He was helping people, and that was all that he ever wanted to do.
When Spider-man eventually hopped the tall fence to Wayne manor, he asked for a quick status update from Karen.
"Hi, Peter. Both Alfred Pennyworth and Duke Thomas-Wayne are still asleep. Damian Wayne is awake in the fourth floor library."
Peter would have faltered, but he had no time to waste. That secret room was empty, the house was mostly at rest, and he had an itching feeling about what he was really going to find down there.
So he snuck in through his bedroom window, sliding it shut and silently exiting his bedroom. Even though Damian was on a completely different floor, Peter made sure to stick to dark walls and the ceiling while he traveled around the manor, making his way down a side staircase to the first floor.
The study loomed ahead of him, and he took a small breath before shooting out webs from above, tugging the door carefully open anc climbing inside. He detached the webs from the wood on his way, and pulled it shut as quietly as possible. When the door clicked, Peter lowered himself to the floor.
"Alright, Karen. Help me get into this place." Peter asked quietly, making the nanobot mask disappear so that he could have better visibility while he worked. "How does the clock move? I don't wanna force it."
"Turn the hands of the clock to 10:48."
Under Karen's directions, Peter used careful and precise hands to move the thin hands of the clock. Honestly, he was more worried about breaking the hands than getting caught. They were so thin and frail, Peter was amazed that this family had not broken them yet.
When he finally pushed the minute hand into its exact place, he took a small step back. After a moment of nothing, the teen frowned. Just as he opened his mouth to ask Karen another question though…
The looming antique slid, its base tracking that exact same path that Peter had noticed all those weeks ago. Peter's heart stuttered in his chest, and his green eyes widened upon spotting the door behind the clock.
Next to the locked entryway, right on the wall, was a futuristic scanner. It was similar to something he had seen Tony make before in the tower. Peter recognized it immediately as some sort of identity or DNA scanner- maybe both.
He frowned at the realization that maybe he could not get in. The Waynes would not have uploaded his DNA to their secret security, especially with how persistent they had been about keeping him out of the presumed basement.
This kind of high tech security though made him oddly reminiscent. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and he tried not to dwell on the emptiness in his chest.
"...alright, Karen. Let's see if Stark Tech really is better than Wayne Tech, yeah?"
"Robin? Is everything alright?" Tim's voice came over the phone call, and it sounded like he was standing right next to Damian. The youngest Wayne stood at the end of a hall on the first floor, staring down toward the door to the study. He held his breath, almost not wanting to speak. "Robin? You there, kid?"
"...Spider-man is about to know." He said quietly, voice barely a whisper into his cell phone speaker. His eyes never left that damn door. "...get home. I doubt that AI will keep him out if he figures out the clock."
"Shit, okay-" the sound of a sudden change in direction could be heard. "I could have sworn– " Tim cursed under his breath, and then Damian could hear him speaking into his Oracle comm. "I thought you said that Spoiler was near him–"
"She was near him, his signal is still picking up at her location–"
"Could it be some kind of fluke? Ask Karen–"
"Spoiler, do you have your cell on you?"
All was quiet for a few moments.
"...God fucking damnit– Karen pinged to Spoiler's phone instead of Spider-man, he's not even on my map anymore–"
"He's here." Damian said again, trying to reiterate the situation to Tim. "He's here, and I'm not stopping him. Not this time."
"What?-" Tim nearly choked on the other end of the call, and Damian could just hear the teen's eyes widen. "Robin, you need to help us stop him–"
"I refused to get involved." Damian said firmly, voice raising ever so slightly. He had to force himself to get quiet for a few seconds after the fact, just to ensure that Peter had not heard him. "... I refuse to hurt him again. "
Peter did not need to confirm his identity to get into the hidden door. After a minute of Karen doing her thing and commenting on how subpar the security was, the door slid open, revealing a long, skinny staircase that went down .
He did not hesitate to start descending, going quickly while analyzing the walls around him. They were smooth, and made of the same metal as the doors. Peter's first assumption was that he was descending into some sort of lab, and he had a suspicion on just what the lab was for.
He had formed the theory that the Waynes had something to do with Gotham's Knights ever since he did his research on the vigilantes. Someone had to be funding them- that was his assumption. Hell, Peter had the same thoughts when he was first debating getting back into vigilante work.
"I can't believe that Bruce Wayne is Batman's sponsor–" Peter huffed, glaring down at the steps as he went. The descent felt like it was taking ages. "Why didn't he offer to sponsor me? He knows I'm Spider-man–"
"Alfred Pennyworth is awake and moving about the first floor alongside Damian Wayne."
"I'm already in , Karen, they can't stop me anymore." He whispered, determination settling itself on his face. The teen continued his descent, the boots of the spider armor making no noise on the stairs.
When the teen stepped out at the base of the stairwell, he was shocked at the sheer size of the space. When Karen had described it as large all those weeks ago.. He did not think she meant this large.
It was a cave, with metal walkways on multiple different levels hanging out of the walls. Cabinets and display cases lined most of them, showing off different vigilante suits, weapons, awards, and other various novelties. The giant penny and the tyrannosaurus rex had Peter slack jawed as he stepped further into the space, spinning in a slow circle to take in his surroundings.
Overhead, the distinct sounds of bats shuffling along the cave roof could be heard. Looking up only confirmed the presence of the wild animals, all flying high above or resting upside-down on jagged stone perches.
The cave was also lined with various bits of technology. In his first once-over, Peter managed to spot dozens of machines that he was just itching to take apart. He had not built something in ages, and some of them looked like they could provide a real challenge.
But the most notable thing in the cave was the computer . It had too many monitors to count, all in various shapes and sizes. The desk and keyboard were both large and modified, and when Peter got closer, he could see different buttons, levers, and switches that were obviously added and have their own custom functions.
He slowly ascended the small set of stairs to get to the computer, running his hand lightly along the keyboard. When his eyes traveled up to the monitors, he spotted numerous things of interest. There was a map of Gotham, with all sorts of blinking dots and lights on it. Next to that window was another one, showing different lines on a communication frequency. The label at the top said Oracle Comms in bold purple letters.
On another monitor, Peter also noted a list of the various colorful shapes from the map. Next to each marker was a set of vitals, displaying things like heart rate, blood oxygen level, and hydration level. He went down the list quickly, pausing when he came across the final marker on the list.
It was an upside down red triangle with a bold yellow outline, and when he glanced over to the map across the screens, it was not currently displayed. Still, there were vitals coming through. He noted this immediately as unusual, because the other markers not currently on the map were not sending in vitals.
After a moment of thought, Peter's heart sank.
"...Karen, is that one me?"
"Yes."
"..Is.. Is this what you were hiding from me?" he asked, chest uneasy. He held onto the desk in fear of becoming unsteady on his own feet as realization pressed hard onto his lungs.
"Yes."
Peter's previous theory was erased from his mind. Bruce Wayne was not just funding Batman, or Nightwing, or the other various vigilantes in the area. He was–
Peter was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of a revving engine. He turned fast with wide eyes, staring down the platform toward a lower one that had a wide tunnel attached to it. A long black sports car with custom rims and spoilers skidded to a halt. Seconds later, it was followed by two motorcycles, one blue and one red.
Nightwing and Red Hood stared up at Peter, all three of them frozen in place. None of them wanted to make the first move, mostly in fear of making each other run.
Peter's sixth sense shot waves of panic panic danger danger DANGER up and down his spine, and after a few seconds, his body forced him to move. Just a small step back, silent in the cave that had grown deathly still.
The Waynes are the vigilantes.
"...Pete." Nightwing- no, Dick - said carefully, slowly getting off of his motorcycle and pushing down the kickstand. His voice was gentle yet firm, encouraging Peter to listen. "...let us explain, bud–"
"She knew." Peter cut him off, pain on his tongue. Not physical pain, but emotional pain. It sounded like betrayal. "...Karen, you knew ." he whispered.
"I did."
"Why didn't you tell me –"
"For your own safety. I made the decision that it would be better for you if you found out on your own, Peter. You are a brilliant young man, I knew you would find out eventually."
Peter snapped his jaw shut, taking two more steps back when he noticed both Red Hood and Nightwing– Jason and Dick– starting to slowly approach the platform with their hands half raised in a placating manner. They were trying to show that they were not threats.
The teen thought back to when he first met Jason. He had known the man was dangerous from day one. Jason was just as dangerous, if not more so , than Thanos . And Thanos had killed Peter.
Robin tried.
Damian .
The realization that Damian had almost killed Peter hit him like a freight train. He had been working so hard to prove to Damian that he was a good person- to prove that he was not a threat to this family. He thought that his efforts had been working. Did the study sessions mean nothing ?
Damian had been grounded for attempting to kill Peter. Robin had attempted to kill Spider-man. The teen was not sure which sentence made it worse, because they equally made him feel terrible.
The excitement of finally being around heroes again- of not being alone in this- was quickly diminished. They had tried to kill him.
Peter wanted to cry. He bit the inside of his cheek, barely noticing when his new sharp teeth quickly drew blood from the flesh.
"...this could have been perfect," Peter said quietly, glancing between Dick and Jason. His voice was filled with hurt . He tried not to let that green creeping into his vision completely overwhelm him. "..working with a team again."
"...you can , Peter." Dick said softly, taking slow steps up the stairs to join him on the platform with the computer. He had a small smile on his face, albeit a nervous one. Despite how calm he was keeping himself, Peter could tell that he was ready to give chase if the teen ran.
Peter had to steel his nerves. "...I'm so confused, Dick." he did a terrible job of hiding the shake in his voice. "..you guys care about me during the day, but the moment I go out as Spider-man, Damian– "
"Made a mistake." Bruce's unmistakable voice rang out in the cave as the man climbed out of his car, the Batman cowl covering his face and hiding his outward emotions. In spite of that, he was pushing sincerity into his voice. "He acted without asking me, and did something terrible to you."
"..I-I thought he cared about me."
"He does." The man confirmed, approaching the platform and standing at the bottom of the stairs with Jason. "He struggles to express himself, Peter. That's something I know you noticed about him."
Peter nodded quietly, afraid that if he spoke, his despair would be too obvious.
"...allow me to apologize, Peter." Bruce tugged off the Batman cowl, blue eyes meeting green. "Hiding this from you was a hasty decision, and I should have known it would not last long."
"...you guys were afraid of me, weren't you?"
"...in our defense, we.. we still don't really know where you came from, Peter." Dick said softly. When Peter looked at the man, he could just tell that Dick was resisting the urge to pull him into a hug. Peter was glad that he was at least resisting. Peter did not want a hug.
He wanted to go Home.
"..I.. I can't tell you guys. Can you please just trust me when I tell you that it's safer that way?" Peter said, dropping eye contact and glaring at the floor of the cave. "..I get it- you're vigilantes, whatever. But this- this is so much more than you guys are prepared to deal with."
"You don't know that." Bruce pried carefully, slowly making his way up the steps. Peter turned to look at the car again when he heard two more doors click open. Out stepped Spoiler and Red Robin, both of which quickly unmasked themselves to look up at Peter with looks of regret.
Tim and Stephanie.
"...I do." Peter mumbled, taking another small step back when Bruce joined him on the platform. Dick moved on instinct, going to grab Peter, before stopping himself halfway there with an outstretched arm that made the teen flinch.
A headache was starting to wrack his mind. He had thought that he was ready to discover the Waynes secret, truly. He thought that he had prepared himself enough.
But this was… it was what he had expected, but the emotions that it came with were so much more overwhelming than he had prepared to handle. It certainly did not help that his vision was starting to turn green, either.
"...Damian's Robin, I assume Cass is Orphan.." Peter said out loud, glancing at the vigilantes in the room as he made an internal list. "..and Oracle…? That's someone, right?"
"Remember Babs?" Jason asked from the bottom of the stairs, looking the most relaxed of anyone in the room. He had a small smile on his face. "She runs the tech for us, alongside Tim sometimes."
Peter nodded, recalling the red haired woman from the library. She had seemed close to the Wayne family, or at least acted like it. Picturing her as their woman in the chair was amusing in the moment.
"...Peter," Bruce started softly, opening his posture. "...I understand that you can't tell us everything. Do you think, though, that if we asked you questions, you could at least try?" His request was simple. "Anything that you can't answer, you don't have to. But I'm sure you have questions for us , and we.. Well, we have questions for you, too."
Peter thought for a long few seconds about Bruce's request, avoiding eye contact and looking down at the floor of the platform. He could always just refuse to answer anything he did not want to. This could be okay, as long as they did not get too pushy.
"..I guess." he mumbled, chest aching.
Twenty minutes later, Peter was sitting on a training mat with a steaming mug of coffee in his gloved hands. Tim, Stephanie, Bruce, Jason, and Dick were also seated around him, the entire group making a sort of circle shape. It reminded Peter of a kindergarten share circle, and the thought was enough to get a small smile on his face, despite his emotional exhaustion.
"We've called down Damian as well, Peter." Bruce informed as he took his seat, sighing into the criss-crossed position. "He's entitled to be here for this conversation."
"..what about Cass?" He questioned, ignoring how the thought of Damian made his nerves spike. He did not want to confront Damian.
He wanted to go Home.
"She's still in the city." Tim explained, holding his own mug of coffee. "We can't exactly leave Gotham entirely unwatched. She volunteered to stay out for us."
Peter frowned. He would much prefer having her here, considering she was one of the only ones who had not been rude or hostile toward him at any point in time. But then the thought of Duke came to mind. "...hey, does Duke know about all of this?"
"Oh, yeah." Dick smiled with a little chuckle, sitting criss-cross on Peter's left. "He's Signal, though. He works during the day."
The teen was once again reminded of a memory- this time in the car with Duke and the other teens going to the mall. Duke had been minorly injured, and blamed it on a fall at Gotham Prep. Peter should have known better.
Peter nodded idly, looking down at his mug. He was tempted to chug it all, just to have a distraction from his nerves and constantly fluctuating sixth sense. His Peter Tingle had been going crazy this entire time, which only made that pit in his stomach worse. The Waynes were still on edge, worried that Peter would do… something . He guessed that they expected him to either run or fight.
Their nerves were absolutely warranted, though. Peter did want to run, and had to will his legs to stay put.
He wanted to go Home.
Damian entered the cave five minutes later, dressed in batman pajamas and frowning softly. He did not look upset, though. It was more like regret. Peter had a feeling that he knew exactly what the kid was upset over. When Damian joined them in the circle, sitting next to his father, Bruce finally started what Peter classified as the interrogation .
"What can you tell us about Tony Stark, Peter?"
Nothing , Peter wanted to say. He so desperately wanted to keep everything about Tony to himself, but he knew deep down that they would not accept that answer.
"...he's not in the country right now. I'm actually.. Not entirely sure where he is. We got separated on a mission together, with a few other superheroes that we know." he explained carefully. "...it's all classified, I can't exactly give big details."
"And he was your mentor?"
"Yeah." Peter swallowed. "...he was great."
Bruce seemed to process that for a few seconds. In his silence, Tim spoke up. "Did Tony make your suit?"
"Yeah, this one at least. I've had a few." he explained, sipping his coffee when he paused. "It got a bit torn up when I first got to Gotham, so I had to make some changes. I prioritized covering the important areas."
"The areas that get most of the blunt force." Jason hummed, staring at the different parts of the spider armor. "...yeah, you won't get thrown around much in Gotham. People are more prone to stabbing or shooting." he rolled his eyes, a teasing smile on his face.
Peter resisted glancing at Damian. "Yeah, I know. I've gotta make a few more changes to it."
Bruce took his turn to speak again. "Do you have any insight on why your name wouldn't exist in any government databases?" he asked, voice a bit more stern. This was a question he clearly really wanted the answer to.
"..I don't, no." Peter shook his head, avoiding eye contact. Bruce's blue gaze narrowed ever so slightly. "...I don't know much about why that would be, seriously." he tried reaffirming his words, forcing a bit more confidence into his voice. Lying was never his strong suit.
"What about your latest changes?" Dick asked, leaning forward to look Peter in the eye. "Like your new webs?"
"I don't know why those exist, either." Peter shook his head once more. "..my teeth got sharper, too. I noticed that last week."
Dick nodded slowly, glancing over to his father. Bruce Wayne stared at Peter with an unreadable expression, his emotions unclear. The teen stared back, anxiety evident under his forced confidence.
"...alright, Peter. What about for us? Any questions?" he finally relented, gaze softening on the teen.
Peter hesitated, glancing around the circle. He had so many questions, honestly. Deep down though, he knew that they would be particular with what they decided to answer. How could he blame them? Now that he had calmed down more, he realized that lying would become a crucial part of Peter's relationship with this family.
"...why'd you try hurting me?" Peter asked quietly, directing his gaze to Damian. The boy did not look up from the floor, but he did speak.
"...I was attempting to stop you from working. I was worried for your safety in Gotham, considering you are unfamiliar with the city and its functions."
Peter frowned, a bit of frustration bubbling in his chest. "So you fought me?"
"It was the wrong decision, clearly." Damian mumbled.
" Clearly. " Peter huffed, glaring down at the floor himself. The silence that followed the question spoke volumes, and made the air thick with tension. After a few seconds, Peter stood up. His sudden movement surprised the Waynes enough to prompt some of them to their feet, worried about what Peter's next move would be.
"I need air." The teen grumbled, stepping away from the circle and off of the training mat. "Karen, turn off my tracking. I know you've been sharing it with them."
"Yes, Peter."
As he walked away, he ignored the sounds of protest coming from the family, who was quickly scrambling to stand and follow him. Dick jogged ahead, putting a worried hand on Peter's shoulder. "Pete, c'mon- we at least need to know where you're going-"
Peter shrugged him off with a well timed glare, stepping away hastily. "No, you don't. You aren't entitled to that."
"Pete-"
" Stop , Dick-" the teen huffed, glancing at the computer as he passed it. The map no longer displayed his triangle marker, and he took that as enough confirmation that Karen had actually listened to him. "God, you act like you're my damn brother or something, lay off– "
"Parker, hold on." Damian said, speeding up to join the two. He did not flinch when Peter redirected his glare to him, instead holding his ground. "How will we know that you're safe?"
"That's not something you seemed concerned about before." Peter held his glare, effectively silencing Damian. "...I'll be fine. I just need air, I'll be back before sunrise."
The teen turned to leave, heading toward the stairs that led into the upper manor. "Don't follow me." he stated quietly, but the sound carried through the cave and to every member of the family.
And just like that, Peter left.
The next morning, the Waynes decided to give Peter as much space as he needed. Obviously the teen had felt hurt, and betrayed by the things that he discovered. They really could not blame him, so they gave him time.
The manor was busy with preparation for the Gala. Hired workers filtered in and out, setting up tables for food, cleaning the ballrooms from top to bottom under Alfred's guidance, and roping off certain areas of the manor for guests to avoid.
Gradually, the entire Wayne family had made their way to the manor. Jason came from his apartment in Crime Alley, Stephanie arrived to get ready with Cass, and Barbara wheeled her way into one of the ballrooms to assist in directing the hired workers.
Peter's bedroom stayed untouched. Tim passed the door many times, giving it worried glances. Occasionally, he would stop entirely, ready to knock and offer an apology. For everything . But he listened to Bruce's directions, and left Peter alone.
After hearing about the catastrophe that was the previous night, Duke was furious. He downright yelled at Bruce, upset at how he had handled everything. Duke wished that they would have woken him up, positive that the entire situation could have gone so much better if he were there. He had to be stopped by Dick numerous times from going to Peter.
Cassandra was in a similar boat. Despite volunteering to stay out, she regretted it enough for a pit to form in her stomach. Like Tim, she passed the bedroom door often, looking at it with longing and regret. It took everything in her not to give in to her emotions and go to the teen, wanting to give him comfort and familiarity in this troubling time. But she knew better, so she left him be.
Alfred was the only one to completely ignore Bruce. Once he had ensured that the caterers were preparing as they should, he made a quick escape to the second story bedroom hallway, exaggerating his footsteps for the enhanced teen to hear him approaching. When he got to the door, he knocked, spoke his presence, then opened the door.
He had been prepared to find an emotionally distraught Peter- a young boy in need of a strong rock to rest on and a comforting voice. He was ready to help him in any way he needed. He was ready to be there, just like he had been for every other Wayne.
Alfred had not prepared to find the bedroom empty, save for the spider armor laid out on the bed next to Peter's gala suit.
"One ticket to New York." A tired voice requested, with a gray jacket hood pulled over his brown hair. His green gaze was tilted down to the ticket counter at the bus yard.
"Round trip?" The bored woman at the desk asked, not even looking at Peter as she typed on the computer, preparing to print him his receipt and ticket.
The teen shook his head, glancing down at the crushed hearing aid in his right hand. It had been broken into far too many pieces, and he felt an overwhelming wave of dread wash over him. He wanted to regret breaking the device, but he knew it was the only way to ensure he would not be tracked.
I can't make them trust me, not without telling them too much.
The woman did not question him, instead taking his cash and handing over both a receipt and a ticket. Within ten minutes, an exhausted and borderline manic Peter was boarding a travel bus.
When the vehicle pulled out of the bus yard, packed with travelers, it left behind a broken red hearing aid on the sidewalk.