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Part 1 of maybe 'verse
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2020-09-15
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2020-12-01
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23/23
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maybe we can't be okay (but maybe we'll try anyway)

Chapter 23

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Peter awoke to the urgent shuffling coming from the other side of his door.

He furrowed his brows, rubbing at his tired eyes as he plodded out of his room.

Sam, wearing his Falcon armor and gobbling down a protein shake, went still. “Peter. Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Yeah. But that’s okay.” He covered his mouth as he yawned. “What’s going on?”

“You know the giant worms that keep popping up?”

Peter nodded.

“Well, there’s been a nationwide emergence. They’re popping up in every major city of the United States, and we have to take care of them before they do major damage. So, it’s an all call.”

“You’re all leaving?” Peter asked, voice quiet.

Sam softened. “I’m sorry, kid. Pepper’s gonna stay with you, though, so you’re not gonna be alone.”

“Please be safe,” Peter whispered.

Sam pulled the boy into a hug, running his gloved fingers through his hair gently. “I’m gonna be fine, okay? I’ve handled much worse than some big, dumb worms.”

Peter chuckled wetly against his chest. “I just…”

“Worry. I know. But there’s nothing to worry about, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Is there anything you’d like when you come back? I can… I can make you something.”

“Those pumpkin chocolate chip muffins were really good,” Sam said after a long pause.

“Then I will make you some more.”

Sam ruffled Peter’s hair and gave his shoulder a soft squeeze. “Don’t get into too much trouble, alright?”

“I’ll try my best,” Peter said with a cheeky yet tentative grin.

Sam slung his bag over his shoulder and shuffled to the elevator. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

And then it was just Peter.

Another yawn escaped, making his jaw click. “What time is it?” he muttered to himself.

3:42AM read the microwave.

He sighed, knowing that he wasn’t going to fall back asleep and that he had woken up much earlier to do much more strenuous tasks than lounge around on a squishy sofa.

So, he did just that, snuggling into the cushions with three fluffy blankets and his tablet and pulled up the article he had been reading the night before.

He had gotten so engrossed in his reading that he almost missed the light knocking at the door.

Peeling himself off of the couch, he clomped to answer, and was greeted by the bright grin of Pepper Potts.

“Good morning, Peter,” she greeted.

“Good morning, Pepper,” he replied.

“I was thinking you and I could go get some breakfast. How does that sound?”

‘I haven’t earned it ,’ said the looming thought invading his mind. “Would you mind if I cleaned up a little bit before we go?”

“Not at all. Would you like some help?”

“No, thank you. Make yourself comfortable. I won’t be too long.” Peter scurried to his room and began his cleaning routine. Still not satisfied enough to have felt like he earned food, he went to tidy up Sam’s room. It wasn’t until both rooms, bathrooms, kitchen, and living room were spotless was he finally content.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting,” Peter said.

“No problem at all! I got to have my morning cup of tea and get time to scroll through the news in peaceful silence. It was a pleasure.”

“So,” Peter said. “Breakfast?”

“Have you ever french toast?”

 

French toast was revolutionary. It was astounding. It was mind-blowing and life-changing and exemplary.

Pepper had ordered him two types of french toast: tiramisu and ham and cheese. Peter had started with the savory, the crunchy cheese and sweet ham bursting with flavor on his taste buds. Then, the tiramisu with rich, deep, dark chocolate and fluffy, thick cream that coated his throat. 

“So, is there anything you want to do today?” Pepper asked.

Peter swallowed his bite, following it with a sip of his milk. “I was going to make Sam some chocolate chip pumpkin muffins. But I was gonna do that later because they’re better fresh.”

“That’s very nice of you,” she said with a soft smile. “Tony has brought me some of the things you’ve baked. They’re very delicious. You’re an amazing baker.”

He felt a swell of warmth at the praise. “Thank you.”

“I can tell you’re not used to everyone being gone,” she said.

“Correct.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, you’re right.”

“So, I was thinking maybe you and I could have a spa day.”

“Spa day?” He knew of spa days. They had been in a multitude of the fictional movies he had watched. “ I can have a spa day?”

“Of course you can. Anyone can have one.”

He beamed. “I would like to have a spa day.”

Spa days were much more laborious than they seemed in the movies.

The first thing they did was a “dry brush exfoliation.” The bristles tickled on his skin and itched a little. Pepper said it increased blood flow and stimulated collagen production which pleased Peter immensely. 

Then, they did face and hair masks while they soaked their feet in a foot bath and drank green smoothies. 

Pepper told him funny stories about Tony that made him laugh so hard that he almost spit his green smoothie out.

Once they finished by washing their faces and giving themselves a little massage as they moisturized, Peter felt loose and relaxed and his skin felt silky smooth.

The two were lying in Peter’s bed, watching what Pepper called a “rom com” when her phone began to ring.

“Sorry, Peter. I have to take this.” She excused herself and headed to the kitchen. “ What? Collapsed. It collapsed?” 

Peter’s eyebrows shot up as he took out his dampener to listen in more.

“There’s an infestation of giant worms rampaging New York. They’ve got SHIELD on it, but as you know, the Avengers are across the nation working on the other outbreaks.”

“Is everyone okay?”

“So far, the only major damage has been to SI headquarters. However, we’re gonna need you to come in to work your CEO magic for damage control.”

She sighed. “I’ll be there in fifteen, okay? Settle everyone as best you can until I get there. Push the press focus. Avert any attention from any claims to SI’s nefarious affiliation that they may try to fabricate.”

“You got it.”

Pepper entered Peter’s room with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry to cut this short, but I just got called into work. Nothing to worry about, just have to address some things in person. Are you gonna be okay here alone until I get back?”

Peter nodded. “I’ve got JARVIS.”

She let out a breath of relief. “Alright. Great. Call me if you need anything, and I mean anything, okay?”

“I will. I think I’ll just get started on those muffins for Sam.”

“Okay. Okay! I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay? Stay—” She cut herself off. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” he said. “You better get going. Whatever this is sounds urgent.”

“It is. I should go.” She grabbed her purse and slipped on her shoes before rushing out to the elevator.

Peter stood alone, staring aimlessly as the door closed behind her.

Mechanically, he headed to the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients to make his muffins.

He tried. He really tried to just sift his flour and ignore the chaos erupting in the distance. He tried to level his sugar and not listen to the reports of the destruction be wreaked just miles away. He tried to make his muffins because that is what he said he would do and that was what he was expected to do and that was what he was supposed to do.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t standby. He couldn’t sit and wait and listen as the monsters ravaged his city. As much as the disobedience and borderline deception made his skin crawl and the weight on his chest feel bone-crushing, staying idle made his stomach churn and the pressure in his temples rise and his body jitter.

“JARVIS? What is the temperature today?”

“It is currently ten degrees fahrenheit.”

Peter cursed under his breath. “Thanks, JARVIS.” He went to his room, and rummaged through his clothes from the day before until he found his heater bodysuit.

He went to put on his snow gear but stopped as he remembered how immobile he became in it. Then, knowing that he couldn’t risk going out bare-faced, he went in search of his mask and goggles.

A pit fell heavy in his gut as he realized that he couldn’t enter the fight empty handed. 

It had been a comfort to know that his new life didn’t require him to ever pick up a gun again, to never have to use that gun to kill again, and though it felt to be a necessity for a fair fight, it made his palms sweat.

The elevator ride down to the gym was uncomfortable, his throat tight and dry and hands trembling by his side.

He knew it wouldn’t be simple to leave with a gun with JARVIS’s constant surveillance. He was still piecing together his heist while he scoured the gym.

He was searching through the cupboards when he knocked over a box. He scrambled to pick up the contents when he froze. 

His adhesive.

He slipped the applicator onto his wrist and fiddled with the projection intensity. Tentatively, he pointed to the wall and shot.

The adhesive stuck in a giant web, a string trailing from the release point.

“Okay,” Peter whispered. “What else can you do?” 

He aimed at the ceiling and gave himself a running start before jumping and shooting. The adhesive caught the wall and held on as he swung across the room.

“Okay!” Peter exclaimed. “I can work with this.” He nodded. “I can work with this,” he muttered again.

He tied the roll of refills around his waist like a belt, and slipped a second applicator on his left wrist.

“JARVIS? What floor is the gym on?”

“You are currently on the thirty-second floor.”

Peter squeaked. “Right. Okay. Thank you.” With stiff hesitance, he headed to the window. 

“I would not recommend you open the window. The temperatures are below freezing,” JARVIS said.

“I just need some fresh air,” Peter said, the lie making him feel sick.

“Just be wary of your internal temperature, Young Sir.”

“Will do.”

Peter pushed the window open, a blast of crisp winter air hitting his face. The bodysuit blasted the heat in response, covering his body in warmth.

In one swift motion, Peter hurled his body out of the window, sticking to the side of the building.

“Okay. Okay okay okay! You’ve got this, Peter. You can do this.” He turned around, sticking his back straight against the wall. “You’ve got this, Peter. You can do this.” He eyed the closest building, standing significantly shorter than Avengers Tower. “This is all physics. You know physics. This is just real life application of physics. Just simple math. Simple deduction.” He took a shaky breath and leapt forward, shooting the web into the distance. “Simple math! Simple physics! Please work, please work, please—”

He felt his body swing upwards. 

He laughed in relief, letting out a small whoop as he shot out to the next building.

It became a simple rhythm after that, simple calculations while aiming with a concentrated precision. 

The exhilaration quickly died as he got closer to the disaster zone.

The giant worm was tearing the streets apart. Its enormous body collided with buildings that crumbled in the impact. Civilians screeched in terror as they sprinted in search of safety. 

Peter landed onto the ground and ran to catch a piece of debris before it landed on a group of fear-frozen people.

“Run! Get out of here!” He yelled, still holding the cement above his head.

They nodded, dashing out of the way.

Peter adjusted the applicators as he ran up the side of a building. He shot down at the rogue worm, entrapping its body in the web. He then began to stitch around it with his webs to keep it glued to the street.

He went to investigate the beast, but went still as the familiar scent attacked his senses.

“Eat,” his owner had instructed. “You have earned your food today.”

“What is it?” the DV had asked, so young, too young to understand. It had not been fed for days, only given a seldom sip of dirty water so that its body would not deteriorate into worthless unusable functionality. 

The owner slapped the DV hard. “You do not ask questions.” She threw the food onto the floor in front of him. “It is food.”

“Thank you. Thank you. I’m sorry,” the DV said, scrambling to pick up the pieces that had fallen astray.

It took a bite of the unfamiliar meat. It was slimy and squishy beneath its char. 

“This will be what you will be eating from now on. It’ll satisfy your damned metabolism.”

“Thank you,” it said. The DV had felt starved with the foods that had once quenched its hunger. 

The protein was unfamiliar. It tasted overwhelmingly strong. It was earthy, almost like the DV was eating dirt from the ground. It was tough and gelatinous between its teeth, but it settled the ache in its stomach.

The DV would soon cherish the protein and do everything it could to earn more.

“You are…?” Peter started, stupefied.

“I see our suspicions were correct.”

Peter froze.

“Did living with the Avengers give you a hero complex, DV?”

Peter slowly turned around and a cold chill shot down his spine as he met eyes with her.

“Did you miss me, DV?” she asked, her lips curled wickedly. “I have to say, you’ve been a real pain. The destruction you caused was irreversible and your insubordination is irredeemable.”

Peter flinched.

“A disobedience of this magnitude would once be punished only by death considering your obvious defection.” She grinned. “But that would be too much of a mercy for you. One that you clearly do not deserve.” She took a strong step towards him. “Chomhlíontach.”

Peter’s legs buckled beneath him, his knees scraping against the asphalt as they collided with the street. He bowed his head as he held out his hands, palms up.

“Very good,” she said with a pleased laugh. “Very, very good.” She took a fistful of his hair and yanked his head up to face her. 

She plucked his mask off, the goggles soon after.

He stared at her, face blank and eyes glassy.

“Now I can see your pretty face.” She wound her arm back and collided her fist with his cheek with a sickening crack. 

He didn’t respond.

She kicked him twice in the ribs and once in the chest, sending him flying down, his head bouncing on the pavement. She placed the sole of her boot to his cheek and ground his face onto the ground.

She pulled him up by the hair until he was standing, and wrapped her fingers around his throat, squeezing until he couldn’t help but splutter as her grasp tightened firmer.

It wasn’t until he was wheezing for any semblance of air that she threw him to the ground.

His body was unmoving as he coughed, sharp gasps escaping his throat as he hungrily sucked in as much air as he could.

“You were created for greatness. We created you! You had once awaited at the beck and call of The Greater Good. You once had meaning. You were meant to achieve greatness, to rid the world plagued with imperfection and become the perfection that it deserved.” She kicked him again, his body falling limp. “You will never be perfect. Not without us. Not without me. We can rebuild. We can achieve greatness once more.” She smiled. “And we can do that without you.” She ground her heels into his side. “Because your defection only proves that you are truly unworthy and will never be enough to compete with The Reckoning.” She sighed, devoid of any real emotion. “So you must be terminated.” She pulled her foot up and stepped away from him. “Tráthnóna.”

He did not respond.

“Did I not say it correctly?” she muttered to herself. “Tráthnóna!”

His eyes went dark and he raised his head up and threw himself to the ground to brace himself before swiping his legs beneath her feet, knocking her off balance.

“What? What is this?”

Peter shot a web at her torso. She rolled, tucking her body while she flipped into a fighting stance.

“Clever,” she seethed through gritted teeth. She whipped out two combat knives, spinning them until they were comfortably slotted in her palm. She lunged forward.

Peter flipped out of her way easily.

She growled. She tightened her grip on her knife and sliced rapidly, surging forward with pure rage.

Peter danced around her advances easily. 

“You have become soft,” she spat. “Coddled by your saviors that have stripped away your strength, your worth. What do you think they will do when they realize what you are? What you aren’t? Do you really believe that they will stay? Do you really think that you can hold onto this facade of a perfect existence? This lie of life that you have conceived in your credulous mind? You are lost in domestic bliss that you have been blinded.”

Peter stilled at her words, stumbling over his feet and getting a swipe of the blade to his torso. He hopped up, teeth gritted, fists held up in defense. 

“You are truly a disappointment. We had waited for you to reach your potential. We had invested so much into your development, but you failed us. You failed yourself. You failed The Greater Good. What will you do when you are not prepared for The Reckoning? What will you do when you cannot be enough to combat The Reckoning?”

“The Reckoning is not real!” Peter roared. “You lie! You have always lied! There is no Reckoning! There is no Greater Good! You are filled with deceit!” 

“Your delusion will be your detriment,” she said sharply. “You were always too distracted by your own morals. You cannot survive when you are filled with such grandeur. You need to be put back into your place.”

“You facilitated pain! Pain and hate and hurt. I may be distracted by my morals, but I know now that you have none.”

She simpered. “Well, if all I’m good for is pain, then I better get started, hm?” She flicked her wrist, sending a knife at Peter, lodging itself in his gut.

He keeled over, gasping sharply. He ripped the knife out and tossed to the ground.

“You just don’t quit,” she said with a laugh. 

Peter darted forward, and ran past her.

“Running away, are we?” she shouted.

Peter grinned smugly as he ricocheted off of the side of the building and flipped over her, kicking into the back of her knees with his shin, sending her flying to the ground. She yelped as she scraped the pavement. He pulled her wrists behind her back and entrapped them together in a thick layer of webs. Following suit, he webbed her ankles together. For good measure, he circled her body in a loop of web.

She scowled at him, teeth bared as she tried to wriggle free. “You are nothing. You would have nothing if it were not for what we made you.”

Peter tipped his chin up defiantly. “I am more than you. I am more than what you created me to be. I was destined for greatness, but it was not The Greater Good that I am destined for.” He stepped closer. “I get to choose now. I get to be everything you stripped me of.”

She rolled her eyes. “And what is that?”

“Me. And I may not know who I am yet because you stole that from me, but I get to create myself. I am not your creation. I am my own.”

“Well, aren’t you just piteous?”

Peter smiled. “I do not crave your approval. I am not yours anymore, and I never will be again.” He ambled away and picked up his mask and goggles. He slipped them on. “You will be held accountable for your misdeeds.”

As if on cue, there was a metallic clunk as a bright red and gold metal suit landed between Peter and the woman. 

“I see you were busy,” Tony said, his voice tinny through the speaker.

“You were out of town,” Peter said with a shrug.

“We’ll take care of this. You get back to the tower, okay?”

Peter, still buzzing with adrenaline and body jittery from shock, nodded blankly. The dull pain from the hole in his stomach was beginning to sting and ache. “Will you be back?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back. We’ll have a big bowl of cheese tortellini. The kind with all the butter and peas. How’s that sound?”

Peter nodded again, body and mind in a numb blur. “Okay. Goodbye.”

He got a running start up the nearest building and began to swing back to the tower, barely registering the choked gasp that escaped Tony’s throat.

.-~*~-.

The Avengers all sat in Peter’s bedroom in their pajamas, Steve and Bucky sitting with their backs against the bed’s headboard, Tony sitting cross-legged at the edge of the bed next to Peter, Natasha sitting at his desk, Bruce and Sam slumped in the beanbag chairs, and Clint sitting atop Peter’s dresser with his legs dangling off the side.

They all had big steaming bowls of tortellini in their laps, all munching in silence as their eyes drooped in exhaustion.

“Who has the cheese?” Clint asked.

“You have enough cheese,” Natasha muttered, stabbing a heaping forkful of pasta before shoveling it into her mouth.

“You can never have too much cheese!” Clint declared, wincing at the volume of his own voice. “Can I have more cheese, please?” he asked, softer.

“Fine,” Natasha said. She threw him the grater followed soon after by the block of parmesan.

“Thank you!” Clint sang, cringing again before cutting himself off and silently stabbing the block of cheese with his fork to fit in the grater.

“Good chortellini,” Bucky stated.

Tortellini ,” Tony corrected.

“Tortally,” Bucky quipped.

Tony scoffed in dismay. 

Peter choked out a sob, hand trembling as he raised it to his mouth.

Everyone froze.

Peter wiped at his eyes with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry– I didn’t—I’m sorry— I can’t,” another crackled sob escaped his throat which was aching and raw. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright. You’re safe. You’re okay,” Tony murmured softly. “May I touch you?”

“Yes please,” he cried, burying his face into Tony’s t-shirt, empty bowls toppling to the floor.

Tony petted his hair, shushing him softly. “It’s alright. I’m here. You’re safe. You’re okay.”

“I-it was so-o hard,” Peter said through hiccupped breaths. “I ha-ad to be st-trong and fight even though everything I’ve been trained for to-old me not t-to and, and, and I just, I just, I didn’t think I could do it but I, but I did and I did it and now she’s, and now it’s, and now I’m,” he paused, a desperate cry replacing his stuttering words.

Tony pulled him in closer, wrapping his arms around his back. 

“I wasn’t ready to go. I’m not ready to go. I’m not ready for this all to be over and for you to give up and leave me. I love you too much. I love all of you too much. I don’t want this to end.”

“Hey, who said anything about this ending?” Tony said. “I happen to really like what we’ve got going on.”

“You will realize my true worth. You will realize that I am not worthy of your hospitality anymore.”

“Hey,” Tony said, soft but firm. “We know you, we love you, and we’re not gonna stop any time soon. Don’t you worry about that.”

“My past came back today, a past that I have pushed far away, and it made me realize how much… how much my new life truly means. That I have grown too accustomed to the ease and simplicity and, and, and good of it all. I have lost sight of what a privilege it has been, and have taken it for granted. I have not truly appreciated it because I had begun to move on from torments of my past.

“But my past came back today, and it made me realize how good my life has become. How much good you all have brought into my life. I never knew that life could be this good. The imperfection, the simplicity, it is all so far from even my wildest dreams. It is more than my dreams could concoct. It is almost too good to be true.

“And sometimes I worry that this is a fabrication of my mind, taunting me with a better life. But I feel your warmth, and I hear your heart beats, and I am surrounded by all the things that make you all you and I… I can almost believe it. That it can be real. That it is real and that I deserve it.

“And I— I realized as she twisted my confidence like she had once done with her manipulative words that I may not… I may not feel as though I deserve this life, and this life may be impermanent even though you insist it is not, but I… I do not deserve the life that I had had before. I am more than that life. I am more than her, than them. I deserve more than that. And I don’t know if this is what I deserve, but maybe one day I will believe so.”

And that hope, it may have given him a lot to lose, but he was going to hold on to it. He had a whole life ahead of him. He had a life. 

He was going to be okay. He believed it. He knew it.

Notes:

A huge thank you to a few people.

Thank you to Shaderose and dredfulhapiness for listening to me ramble about this fic when notapartytrick was asleep. You are the MVPs and helped a lot with the earlier chapters.

Thank you so so much to notapartytrick for being the absolute best. I couldn't have written this without you being there for the brainstorming process and ready to listen to my nonsense throughout the writing process. You helped me make this story something amazing and I am forever grateful.

And thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! I don't know if there's more planned for the universe, but I've definitely got some ideas. Thank you for dedicating your time to read this story!

Notes:

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