Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Peter!” Jess snaps. “Get your butt off the counter.”

Peter’s yet again in the inorganics lab, his entire torso in a cabinet that’s a good five feet higher than the tallest countertop. His left arm cradles several different plastic containers of chemicals of various kinds. Apparently, Peter had decided that climbing the countertop to get to the chemical cabinet was a better idea than, say, asking a taller employee to help out. Becket’s pretty sure that violates at least three OSHA violations but he’s no snitch so he shrugs and goes back to work.  

Peter smiles at her but doesn’t get down from the countertop. “I’m just grabbing somethings.”  

At least now he has Mr. Stark’s explicit permission for his continued theft. They’ve gotten some pretty awesome upgrades from Mr. Stark, personally, replacing the things that have gone missing. The new self-spinning centrifuge is better than the hand-crank one any day.

“The last time you were grabbing chemicals,” Jess says, “You ended up making the biggest goddamn mess of my entire career.”

Peter snorts, then tries to hide it as a cough. “I didn’t—"

Jess cuts him off with an ah, ah noise. “If you are going to say that you didn’t stick all those sticky notes to Mr. Stark’s lab then you’re talking to the wrong person, bub.”

Becket shares a look with John and Ryan from the other side of the lab and tries not to think about the many hours spent trying to get those awful sticky notes off every surface known to man. With his approachable appearance and general friendliness, it’s easy to forget that it had been Peter that caused that absolute disaster of an afternoon.

“Oh,” Peter jumps down from the counter with a surprising amount of grace and puts his acquired chemicals on Becket’s desk. “No, I mean, I definitely stuck all of those stick notes to his lab. It took hours but, like, that was for science.”

“For science,” Ryan repeats.

“Yeah.”

“And this—these chemicals aren’t for science?”

Peter seems to realize he messed up because he freezes. “…Uh, no?”

“Then what are you even doing with them?” Jess grabs a bottle and reads it. “What could a twelve year old possibly need salicylic acid, toluene, and—is that beta hydroxy acid? What could you possibly be making that you would need to mix these for?”

“I’m sixteen!” Peter huffs. “And it’s, uh, it’s classified.”

“Classified,” Becket repeats, miffed. It’s the first time Peter hasn’t openly give them a response to any of their prodding. He’d even told Becket he was going to stick unstickable sticky notes not five weeks ago.

“Very classified,” Peter says, a little more strongly, but his face is red. “So classified.”

“Is it going to blow up?”

“What—? No!”

“Is it for a prank?”

“No!”

“Is it destructive in any way?”

“Not if I make it right the first time,” Peter says. He sees the look he’s getting and is quick to wave his hands. “Not dangerous! It’s just sticky. I promise I’m not using it for nefarious purposes and it won’t hurt people.”

“Alright, I guess,” Becket says and eyes the chemicals.

Peter notices and gathers them all up in his arms. His face is still more than a little flushed but he smiles all the same. “Sorry to bother. I’ll just take these and get out of your hair.”

He’s out of the lab before any of them can think to stop him. Becket watches him leave with a weird look on his face. 

“Anyone else get the feeling that the kid was lying?” he says.

“Lay off,” John tells him. “If he doesn’t want to tell us then he doesn’t have to.”

“Here’s to hoping he doesn’t blow himself up,” Ryan says.

“As if,” Jess says. “We’ve all seem his work here in the lab. The kid’s a genius.”

They never figure out what he was using it for but sometimes Becket catches Peter’s eye and, man, does he ever wonder.

Becket’s entire life-centric knowledge comes crashing down on a Tuesday afternoon when a villain looking for a fight crashes straight through Stark Industries.

It had been a normal morning, for the most part. The actual employees are in their weekly meeting with the head of the lab. Peter had been working with the four interns in the inorganics lab, helping where he could. As it turns out, the kid is a genius at everything chemistry and engineering. Watching him work really leaves no wonder why Mr. Stark is so invested in this kid, son or not.

They were laughing, joking around. Trying to convince Peter to go to their respective colleges—Harvard, Princeton, or MIT? It’s ignited more than one heated debate in the past that had Peter laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

(MIT’s absolutely the best. Becket’s not biased in his answer at all.) 

Then someone crashes straight through the thousands of windows of the entrance lounge. People scream, alarms blare, and chaos unfolds. The door to the Inorganic lab automatically shuts as a safety precaution, locking all five of them in there. Becket’s on his feet in seconds. But not quite fast enough, he thinks when he takes note of the defensive stance Peter has already adapted.

“What the hell—?” John says. “What’s going on?”

“It’s the alarm system,” Jess says. She grabs Peter’s arm and drags him over to the desk. The other three follow and take cover behind any object they could. “It means someone bad got into the building. We need to hide and wait until they tell us its safe.”

The look on Peter’s face tells Becket that he’s absolutely not happy with this situation. He keeps glancing at the door, then back at Jess’s hand on his arm like he wants to take off but doesn’t quite know how. He’s probably overwhelmed—Becket knows he definitely is in this situation—but running won’t do him any good when they’ve already got a perfectly good hiding spot in here.

They wait in silence for what seems like forever—minutes tick by in slow succession. The crashing sounds outside of the building gradually decrease but the alarms never once go silent. Then, all of a sudden, the building in plunged into darkness. The alarms stop. The halls fall into complete silence.

“Is it over?” Becket asks.

“No,” Jess says. “If it was safe, they would’ve said something. The power wouldn’t have just cut off like that.”

He knew, when he first took this position, that there had always been some risk. New York is a known hotspot for all things supervillain and working for the Iron Man paints a big fat target on their building. It doesn’t help the jarring terror that makes its way through his system and the sudden realization that this is actually happening. No longer is Super Villain Attacks just some story he read about in the daily newspaper—he’s living it. And he definitely doesn’t like it.

“Well, this is awful,” Ryan says and fails to keep the tremble out of his voice.

“Wait,” Peter says, voice barely above a whisper. He’s staring intensely at the door, hands curled so tight into fists that his knuckles are white. “Do you guys hear that?”

At first, he doesn’t. Peter doesn’t take his eyes off the door, though, and his intensity doesn’t waiver either. Becket strains his ears for a couple seconds, not hearing anything but their own breathing, just as a sound catches his attention from outside the door.

Footsteps. His heart skips a beat. His stomach clenches in terror.

“Hide, hide, hide,” a voice says. It’s nasally, but strong. There’s a echoing laugh. “Gotta hide before the Iron Man finds me!”

Jess grips Becket’s hand and squeezes it. He pulls her closer, feeling both Ryan and John trying to push themselves as far away from the door as possible. Peter, though—Peter doesn’t back away. If anything, he crouches on the balls of his feet, eyes narrowed, and leans forward. It’s like he can hear something they can’t or, better yet, knows something they don’t.

He’s never seen that look of absolute concentration on Peter’s face before. If there hadn’t been an actual supervillain loose in the SI R&D departments, Becket might have been a little intimidated.

The footsteps get louder and louder until they’re right outside the door. Someone bangs on the outside so loud that all four of the interns flinch. Peter still hasn’t moved from his crouched position, like he’s ready to spring to his feet in seconds.

“Peter,” Jess hisses, quietly. “Peter, get over here.”

Peter glances back at her, once, then turns his attention back to the door. Jess looks like she’s about to yank him back again, but then the door makes a horrible grinding noise

Becket’s heart stops as a man steps through. Dressed in a trench coat, a fedora, and black shoes, the man looks almost like a traditional mobster. He might have even passed as a normal, albeit weirdly dressed, man if it hadn’t been for the strange black goo that dripped from his black eyes, shoulders and fingertips.

He steps further into the room and Becket can tell the exact second the man spots them—after all, it’s not like a chemistry lab has a lot of places to hide. The man smiles, teeth black, and more goo drips from his open mouth.

Becket’s heart stops.

“Hello, hello, hello,” the man says. His voice echoes. “What do we have here? Children?”

“Oh, fuck,” Ryan mutters.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” the man says. “I need a hiding place, you see. Iron Man is coming and I haven’t achieved my goal. I can’t afford any witnesses.”

John makes a choked sound. Peter is on his feet in an instant, looking ready to pounce. Before anyone can make a move otherwise, Jess jumps up, grabs an opened bottle off the desks they had been working on before this all went down, and promptly throws acid in his face.

The man howls, spitting. Black goo flies everywhere. It almost lands on Becket, but he finds himself being yanked away at the last second. When he looks up, Peter is standing above him. It’s like Becket’s looking at a completely different person. No longer is this the awkward, friendly, sixteen year old intern that likes to make science puns and prank the entire chemistry department. Now, Peter stands tall and proud. His face is set in a determined line. He meets Becket’s eyes and looks at his face, almost as if he’s searching for something.

Can I trust you? the look seems to say. 

Peter must find his answer—whatever it is—because he looks away and smiles at the villain. He snatches another bottle from the desk and throws it with deadly accuracy. It hits the man right in the eyes. “Hey, ugly!”

“Peter!” Ryan snaps, trying to bring the kid back behind the safety of the desks.

Peter dances around his arms and gives him a much more friendly smile. “Don’t worry! I got this. It’ll be okay.”

Becket almost believes it.

“Peter, you’re sixteen,” Ryan says right back.

The villain spits and roars, like an animal. Black goo comes pouring out of his mouth and eyes and an assortment of acid drips down his face. His solid black gaze locks on with Peter’s and he hisses out, “You.”

“Hi,” Peter says, cheerfully despite the situation. The man looks like he’s about to respond, but the liquid from the bottles drip into his mouth and he chokes. “Oh, sorry. Acid got your tongue?”

The man roars, again, and charges. Peter flips a desk on its side like it weighs nothing and sends it into the man’s knees in one smooth action. He wastes no time running forward and launching over the desk, careful to avoid the black goo, and kicks the man so hard he goes flying back into the door.

Becket’s sure his jaw is on the ground. From the frantic look his fellow interns are sending him, he’s not the only one surprised at this new development.

“Holy shit,” John says.

“Here, let me help you,” Peter says and flips the desk so it lands on the man’s back. The man grunts and groans before yelling. The goo explodes outward, the desk splinters, and Peter is pushed back so violently that he skids all the way back to where Becket, Jess, Ryan and John are cowering behind the ruined, goo-covered desk.

“Hey, watch it, venom-imposter!” Peter says, already having recovered. “This is my favorite shirt!”

“Child, child, child,” the man says. Black liquid drips down his fingers. “This would be significantly less painful if you were to stop resisting.”

“The goo thing and the death threats are getting kinda old, y’know?”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” the man says. He takes a dangerous step forward. Becket does not like the way his eyes seem to glow in the eerily darkness of the chemistry lab. “Allow me to make it better.”

The man flings his hand forward. Goo comes off and solidifies into spikes. Becket takes cover behind the desk, almost missing the skillful way that Peter dodges every single spike. They imbed themselves in the wall behind them.

Peter glances once at the black goo on the man’s fingers and once at the solid black spikes in the wall behind him.

“Huh,” is all Peter says. Then he launches himself at the villain, tackling him to the ground. The villain grabs his shirt, yanking, but Peter flips them both over and kicks out. The man grunts, taking a hit to the stomach and another to the shoulder. “Serious, dude, do you even have a badge? If you don’t, I can talk to Happy about getting you a visitors pass since you really wanted to visit—whoa!”

The villain manages to get a grip and sends Peter flying into a pair of desks. Peter yelps, but pushes himself out of the way right as the villain jumps at him. He manages to avoid a nasty hit to the head and skitters just out of reach. He rubs his wrists almost unconsciously and mutters, just loud enough for Becket to hear, “Of all the days not to be wearing my webshooters…”

And Becket? Becket doesn’t quite know how to feel about that.

The man stalks forward, shoulders hunched. “You know, you know, you know…It is not wise to make a dangerous man look foolish, boy.”

“You don’t need my help for that,” Peter says. “Have you looked in a mirror lately, by chance?”

The man spits. Both of them clash again. Becket sees the black goo from the villain and Peter’s once-white shirt as they trade blows and attacks like this is just another Tuesday afternoon.

“Can someone,” John whispers from beside him. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on.”

Ryan laughs, but it sounds wet. “Bold of you to assume any of us know what’s going on.”

“Apparently, Peter has more than a few hidden skills,” Jess says, which is just about the understatement of the century.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” the man roars.

Becket turns around in just enough time to see the man fling more hardened goo at Peter. It covers almost the entire area—too thick for Peter to dodge. A yell catches in his throat and he stands, unsure of what to do but unwilling for this kid—this kid who’s been protecting them to get hurt—when Peter jumps.

The hardened goo hits the further wall with a bang! Peter doesn’t come back down.

“Breaking into Stark Industries in broad daylight, trying to hide from Iron Man, attacking us,” Peter’s voice says. Becket looks up. “Also have you seen your outfit? Seriously, dude, it’s not the 60s anymore.”

Peter stares down at them. His fingers stick to the surface and he crawls along the ceiling, just like a…just like a spider.

Spider-Man.

It makes total sense while also making absolutely no sense at all.

“Holy shit,” Jess whispers.

“What, what—?” the man doesn’t even get to the third what when Peter drops from the ceiling and lands on the man’s back. He pulls them both to the ground and the man’s head makes a solid crack on the hard floor of the lab. Peter grabs both of his arms and pins them behind the man’s head.

They wait with baited breath for one second, two, three, but the man doesn’t get back up. He doesn’t even stir. Becket lets out a sigh of relief he hadn’t known he was holding in.

“Is he…?” John asks.

Peter stands on two feet. Becket can’t help but look at him in a whole different light—it’s hard to believe that the kid spending most of his free time running around SI and making roombas is the crime-fighting vigilante dressed in a spider-costume and beating up baddies.

Becket even has a picture hanging up in his bedroom. He feels faint, almost.

“He’ll be okay,” Peter says. “Nasty headache, though.”

“Alright, okay. Cool,” John says. “So, uh, what the fuck?”

They find themselves crowding around him. Jess says, “You’re Spider-Man?”

Peter’s face is cherry-red and he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly but nods all the same. “Yeah. I’m Spider-Man.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” Jess says. “Spider-Man is a twelve year old who spends his time tormenting Tony Stark and blowing up labs.”

It’s not exactly inaccurate.

“I’m sixteen,” he protests. “And I’ve never blown up a lab!”

“Purposely, maybe,” Ryan says but there’s a smile on his face.

Peter relaxes just the barest amount. Then tenses up again like an unbidding thought came to mind. “You’re not gonna—you’re not gonna tell anyone, right? ‘Cause, uh, I have a lot of enemies and I—"

It’s then that he realizes just how much is on the line in Peter’s life. Becket always thought of Spider-Man as this otherworldly figure—untouchable, eternal. Up there in terms of Tony Stark and the Avengers. Knowing that Spider-Man is a real person, a kid nonetheless with a family and friends…He’s unwillingly trusting the four of them with more than just his own life. All because he had to choose between saving their life or keeping his secret.

Peter must be terrified.

“Relax, kid,” Becket says. Jess, Ryan, and John give him pats on the back or encouraging smiles. “Your secret is safe with us.”

Peter meets his eyes. The tension melts out of him like a popped balloon. Out loud, he simply says, “Thank you.”

“Well,” a new voice says from the door. “This is rather unexpected.”

Becket turns, half expecting more villain accomplices but is entirely welcoming of Tony Stark striding through the doorway.

He doesn’t have his suit on, but he takes in the carnage of the room with a critical eye. Ruined desks, spilled chemicals, and black goo are scattered throughout the room. The unconscious body of the villain who attacked them lies in the far corner, as far away from the rest of them as possible.

Peter waves. “Hi, Mr. Stark.”

Mr. Stark gives them all a once over, like he’s checking for injuries, before he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “You couldn’t have waited?”

“Sorry," Peter says and doesn't sound a single bit sorry about it. "But to be fair, he attacked first."

“Peter—”

“Also, his goo? Disgusting,” Peter plows on like he hadn’t heard. “I’m almost glad I didn’t have the suit, Mr. Stark, because I’d be picking this stuff out for weeks—”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark says, more forceful. “Are you hurt?”

“Oh. No, uh, I’m good,” Peter says. He glances down at his body, checks his limbs, and then shrugs. He looks back over at the interns. “Is everyone else okay too?”

“We’re good,” Ryan says.

“Thanks to you,” John adds.

“It’s what I do,” Peter awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. Nervous habit, Becket notes.

Mr. Stark sizes them all up, eyes guarded. Despite being rather small for a man, Tony Stark is nonetheless an intimidating presence to behold.

Mr. Stark places a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I take it that this will not be leaked?”

Becker blames it on the adrenaline when Ryan blurts out, “Bro, no one would actually believe us if we said that Spider-Man was a sixteen year old who spends his free time causing chaos and making roombas anyways.”

Ryan immediately slaps a hand over his mouth, cheeks turning red. Becket sighs, Jess laughs. John looks so completely lost that he isn’t quite sure how he should react. There’s just the barest hint of a smile on Mr. Stark’s face. Peter has the decency to hide his snort behind his hand.

“You’ll be signing NDAs anyways,” Mr. Stark says but there’s something of a smile on his face.

Jess nods and says, “Of course, Mr. Stark, sir.”

“And,” Mr. Stark continues, “If you ever wanted to come back here for another summer, the program would be lucky to have you. If you wanted something more permeant…I think we could arrange that as well.”

Well. Becket knows a bribe when he sees one. The funny part? He doesn’t care. He’ll absolutely take a job at SI anyway for keeping a secret he’s already planning on keeping. One look at the other interns tells him they’re all thinking along the same lines.

“Can we ask questions?” John asks. When Peter and Mr. Stark nod, he goes on, “So, your internship?”

“It’s not actually an internship,” Peter says and smiles. “Spider-Man is the internship. Mr. Stark is kinda my sponsor?”

“You basically live in my house on the weekends,” Mr. Stark says. “That’s a mentor, kid,”

“Dad, sometimes,” Peter tells them. Jess sends them all a vindictive look. “But mostly if I’m here, I just mess with my suit or the Iron Man suits. Then I started coming down and hanging out with you guys ‘cause you were always fun.”

“You’ve touched the Iron Man suit,” Ryan says with reverence.

“I’m still working on getting Mr. Stark to let me take it for a test flight,” Peter tells them brightly. “I’ll get him eventually.”

“You actually won’t,” Mr. Stark says.

They laugh and talk and question for the next few hours. The sun has long since set, the police have gathered their statement. They leave with the promise of a better future and more information tomorrow morning. Peter and Mr. Stark are right there, making sure they get home safely.

Throughout it all, Peter never once apologizes for not telling them—Becket thinks, had this whole thing never happened, Peter never would have told them. Becket would have graduated his SI internship, gone home, got his degree, created his life, and never once known that he spent a summer getting to know the Spider-Man of New York City.

It’s a humbling thought.

Tomorrow, he’ll go back to the labs. He’ll help with cleanup. He’ll pass Peter in the hallways and say hello. He’ll continue his research. The singing roomba will still follow Mr. Stark around. Peter will probably end up stealing more chemicals. Jess will gossip at lunch. Ryan will joke around. John will act as the voice of reason.

Becket will go home that night thinking about his entire world has changed, yet it seems almost nothing has changed at all.