Chapter Text
Webbing shot across the workroom, attaching itself to the high ceiling. Spider-Man swung from it, Tarzan-style, to the wall on the far side, landing on the vertical surface and clambering down to the box of broken things. He tore off his mask, leaving it on the ground near his backpack and his web-fluid-making setup. He scooped up the box with a graze of his fingertips and dashed back across the room, where the Black Widow was waiting, still scuffed up from the fight. Dangling from her hand was one of her spurs.
“Took you long enough,” she said with the slightest quirk of her mouth, dropping the spur in Peter’s box. “I cracked the casing again.”
Peter sighed, but he wasn’t sure if she could tell, because he was still kind of huffing from the fight and then booking it across the room. “When I got the idea of making these for you, I didn’t think you’d break them so much.”
She unclasped one of her bracelets and dropped it in too. “I broke that one too.”
“You sadistic…” Peter said. “I’ll work on making these Widow-proof.”
Natasha patted his cheek. “Good boy,” she said, and sauntered along.
Next in the line was Sam, cradling Redwing to his chest like Peter was going to try and snatch the thing. “You got more of your webbing on me,” Sam said.
“I needed to hitch a ride,” Peter replied.
“Make your dad do it next time,” Sam said, and before Peter could get offended or upset, he added, “Tony’s up there too, and he doesn’t mind you getting your gunk all over him. Me, I have to deal with the sticky-slimy sensation of your stupid webbing on my legs every time you want to fly. Spiders don’t fly, kid. Shoulda thought of that before you made spiders your gimmick.”
Peter smiled. “I didn’t pick the spiders, Sam. The spiders picked me.”
“I don’t trust you with Redwing,” Sam said.
Tony, passing by Sam on his way to work on his suit, said, “On your left. Also, I’m not touching Redwing again, so it’s Peter or it’s nothing.”
“I hate you,” Sam said to Tony’s retreating back. With utmost reluctance, he extended his hands, Redwing cradled in them. “Please give him another tune-up, spider-kid.”
Peter carefully took Redwing and placed the drone on a nearby table. “Will do, Sam. I promise, Redwing will be fine.”
“He better be,” Sam said. “Also, your webbing gunked up my wings, so they’re basically nonfunctional. You should do something about that.” He shrugged the wings off, letting them drop to the ground. “Another reason Tony should be your ride.”
“That man has weird priorities,” Peter said as Sam walked away.
“Eh, the wings are replaceable. Redwing, not so much,” Steve explained. He had his thumbs in his belt buckle again, looking at Peter with a proud, almost paternal smile. “You did good in the fight today. Remembered your training.”
Peter beamed. “Nat’s really scary when she wants to be. Her lessons always stick.”
“You’re doing a great job,” Steve said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You keeping up with everything else okay? Homework, chores, spending time with your aunt?”
Peter nodded. “Yeah. Things are good. I’m in a good place right now. I just… did we ever find out why that guy took Aunt May? Or what was up with the naked mole rats?”
Steve hesitated, then put a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Natasha questioned him herself, under SHIELD’s supervision. He saw you fight the first one, thought your DNA might make a good addition to it, and tracked you home. Aunt May was the bait for a trap set for you.”
“He didn’t realize I had a family backing me up,” Peter said. He was too lost in his own thoughts to see Steve tear up slightly at the word “family.” “But the naked mole rats? What the hell was up with that?”
“Language,” Steve rebuked. “Peter, in this line of work… life is strange, and it’s easier if you don’t question it.”
Peter nodded. “I get that. But- naked mole rats?”
“I know.” Steve sighed. “Moving on to things we do understand- if you don’t mind-“ he unclipped the-thingy-that-makes-his-shield-come-back from his forearm. Peter asked Tony if the piece of tech had a proper name, and after multiple lewd and/or curse-filled suggestions, they settled on the thingy-that-makes-his-shield-come-back. Steve offered it to Peter with a sheepish smile. “It glitched on me a few times during the fight today- the shield came back, but I couldn’t get it to stick on the- the thing. Could you look it over?”
Peter dropped it in the box of broken things. “I’ll put it on the list.”
“Thanks, Peter,” Steve said. He clapped him on the shoulder one more time. “I’m proud of you,” he said, then walked off.
Clint didn’t make eye contact, just unslung his quiver and dropped it in the box. “I’m out of arrowheads. Chop chop, let’s get Tony’s child-labor sweatshop going!”
Peter closed his eyes and put one hand to his temple.
“… what are you doing?”
“I’m summoning them,” Peter said, opening his eyes. “The spiders. I’m telling them to come for you.”
“Bullshit, that’s not one of your powers,” Clint said.
Peter closed his eyes again and feigned deep concentration. “That you know of.”
There was a pause, just long enough for Peter to know he’d gotten to Clint. “I’m going to go douse myself in bug spray. You, make me some arrowheads.”
“You shouldn’t let him get to you, Spider-boy,” Wanda’s voice said. Peter looked over to see her half-laughing. “He just likes to tease, it’s how he shows affection.”
“I was teasing him back!” Peter replied brightly. “Right?”
Wanda grinned. “Good one.”
Vision, her bizarre shadow, said, “Peter, I have nothing broken for you, but during the fight I had to remain immaterial for approximately twenty seconds, during which time I misplaced my comm. Could you make another one for me?”
“Sure,” Peter said, “But because I have no idea how you work, this problem will probably happen again.”
Vision nodded. “Good enough.”
Peter nodded back. “Okay, sounds good.” He pulled a scrap piece of paper from his pockets, wrote “VISION COMM” on it, and tossed it in the box of broken things.
Wanda and Vision walked off, leaving Thor in front of Peter, beaming. “Peter! This version of the comm device survived the battle!”
A grin broke out across Peter’s face. “Seriously?” he asked. “Version 116 worked? Dude, that is so awesome-“
“It is, however, full of static,” Thor said, holding out the comm with an apologetic look. “I called down lightning twice in this last round-“
“I noticed-“
“And after the second strike the device crackled annoyingly in my ear whenever it was in use,” Thor said. “Are you able to fix this?”
Peter sighed and plucked the comm from Thor’s fingers. “Version 116.1, coming right up. Now with less static.”
Thor clapped him on the back, making Peter nearly cough up both his lungs. “You are a valiant fighter in combat and an able assistant in matters electronical! Truly, we were blessed when you came into our lives.”
“Love you too,” Peter said. Or, at least he tried. His lungs were still a little empty from that resounding pat on the back.
Thor beamed and bounced along deeper into the tower. Bruce gave Peter a small, sympathetic smile. “Focus on breathing in,” Bruce said. “That helps.”
“Man, I’m trying,” Peter said. It was fine, really. Thor knew how to temper his strength, there was no lasting damage. Peter bent over and plucked a flash drive out of the side pocket of his backpack. He tossed it to Bruce, who fumbled the catch. “More tunes, courtesy of MJ. She’s still in a banjo kinda mood, hope that’s okay for you.”
Bruce nodded, turning the drive over in his hands. “They’re good, for, you know. After.”
Peter grinned. “Only the best for you, Dr. Banner.”
Bruce rolled his eyes and walked away, but he was smiling to himself. Peter chalked that one up as a victory.
That was everyone, safely settled back in the Tower after a successful mission. Peter peeled back his gloves and settled down next to his box of broken things. Time to get to work.
He loved his family.