Chapter Text
When Peter started off his day a week ago - or was it more than that - he hadn’t expected to be kidnapped. He hadn’t expected for the people who kidnapped him to stab him with a needle right at the joint of his neck and shoulder where his exoskeleton didn’t reach. Peter didn’t expect to spend so much of that time in captivity reminiscing about his father simply because Clint Barton - fucking Hawkeye of all people - smelled so similar to him.
People say that memories fade as you grow, Peter knew that was true, but people forget the other line.
The memories of your youth may fade, but the mind never forgets. The trauma, the joy, the sadness, it all lives on in your brain and it will react in accordance to its past treatment. He couldn’t remember his childhood home, but his mind could remember the smell. He couldn’t remember the way his father looked, but he could remember the joy of his presence when he came home from work and the content he felt as they cuddled on the couch or in bed when he got scared of the lightning outside.
Peter knew he would never vividly remember his memories, he would never be able to relive his childhood like that, but he could remember the smells, the sounds, the emotions he felt at four years old.
He ignored how Clint looked at him, able to see much clearer with the help of his suit now. He couldn’t handle the nostalgic feeling that edged up his throat. Shaking his head, he turned away from the Avengers and took a deep breath as T’Challa spoke into his mask.
“Who is this and how did you get this communication code?” He questioned coldly, making Peter smile.
“Ah, Prince T’Challa of Wakanda, my name is Spider-Man, we had a short interaction in Berlin.” T’Challa froze on the other end of the line.
“Spider-Boy, nice to hear you lived. It’s King T’Challa of Wakanda, now, how did you find this code?” Peter chuckled now, he would let T’Challa call him that just the once, after all, he was King.
“My AI did most of the work, my King, I’m afraid I’ve come asking for assistance. When Captain Roger’s team was carted away to prison, the government searched for me. I have been with his team in Raft Prison for some time now and have managed to help them escape the cells and the guards.” Peter explained carefully, hands moving as he spoke.
Scott and Sam looked confused, no one else could hear T’Challa, and while they really thought Peter - or rather ‘Francis’ - was doing a great job at representing them, they wanted to hear what the royal was saying.
“Ah, so you’ve contacted me for help. As I remember you were on Stark's side of the fight just like I was, why not call him?” The King asked, leaning back in the chair he was sitting in as he waited for an answer.
“Sir, with all due respect, you signed the Accords. I am underage in America. I’m a minor and therefore wasn’t considered to sign them. I will also inform you that I am blind and was recruited after the Accords were signed and in processing. A braille version was not given to me, and I was under false pretenses about the fight we both participated in. I was a pawn.”
Peter’s voice hardened as he spoke, arms crossing over his chest as his stance grew angry. It was obvious to the whole room just how expressive Peter could be in the suit versus out of it. With no face to keep their sights on when it came to deciphering how the teenager was feeling, it became apparent that Peter spoke with his entire body rather than just his face. Clint did that, Wanda realized as she watched Peters back. He flexed and shifted and spoke with his entire body. She was seeing just how similar they were now that she knew more than other people.
Wanda wondered, looking down at Clint's bare forearm, what Clint thought of the entire situation. She wondered what came up in his mind - in his memories - as he watched his son speak with the King of the most technologically advanced and reclusive country in the world.
Peter hadn’t noticed, no one does when she accidentally sees into someone's memories. He wouldn’t know, and she was rather curious about what she’d see. So, she grabbed his forearm gently, power sparking through her system as she saw the memory running through his mind. She saw his memories through his eyes now, for only a blink, a moment in time no one would notice.
“Dad, why do you have to go away?” Peter asked as Clint settled his bow into his case on the bed. He hated when Peter asked this question, he was only three, yet he was too perceptive for his own good. He always knew when Clint spoiled him just a little more than normal.
“Peter, Daddy has to leave because people need him. It’ll only be for a few days, you’re gonna go see Uncle Matt while I’m gone.” Peter sighed, even as Clint lifted him into his arms and held him tight.
“You have to go be another boy's hero, right?” He always asked that when Clint went to leave. Most of the time they were assassin missions, he wasn’t playing hero, he was a devil’s advocate most of the time, a means to an end for S.H.I.E.L.D. to use at their will.
“Yeah, Peter, I have to go be someone’s hero. I promise I’m coming back,” he told the boy, playing along with his wishes. Peter didn’t need to know he was leaving just to end another person's life. His son didn’t need to know that he was stopping someone from seeing their own family.
“I’m gonna be a hero one day too, Dad, just like you. I promise I’ll save people and make sure no one gets hurt when I’m there to make a difference.” Clint smiled, even if Peter’s idea of a hero was completely different from what Clint was.
“That’s a big promise for a little boy,” he told him as he settled onto the couch, “you’ll make a great hero one day. How about a story before I go, just until Foggy comes to pick you up.” Peter cheered in his lap.
Clint gave her a passing glance yet didn’t say anything or make any motions to give away that he knew she used her powers on him. Wanda frowned; Clint was remembering something sad even if it was inherently happy. His head was confusing, she decided.
“Why were you put into the prison exactly?” T’Challa questioned, “you were on Stark’s side of the fight. You shouldn’t have been imprisoned.”
“You see, Stark’s the reason I’m in here. His negligence to tell me that I was obligated to sign the Accords meant that my actions in Berlin were considered war crimes just as Captain Roger’s side of the team was charged with. Stark knew I was in here and didn’t attempt to rectify his disastrous mistake.” Peter took a deep breath.
“My King, they tried torturing me. I’m a teenager, if I were normal, if I were anyone else, they would have died. I was a pawn and he tossed me here when he was finished with me.” The silence was deafening.
The men - and woman - in the room realized as the words settled that Peter was not normal, he saw himself as unnatural, a freak maybe. The comments in the cell room from the fight came to Wanda’s mind. A guard had called him a freak. Her grip on Clint’s arm tightened. He was no older than fifteen and his mindset on himself was self-destructive. Peter had more power to him than anyone in the world, his mental fortitude was impressive - her rather blurry visuals of his memories with garbled noise proved it, and he was superior genetically.
He was quite literally unhuman, Wanda didn’t find him to be a freak, but it seemed he did.
“So, Stark has left you there?” T’Challa questioned, his voice calm and steady as he sat up straighter in his chair. Tony Stark left a child to rot in a prison cell for doing his bidding. T’Challa was seething inside.
“That’s correct, sir.” Came the teenager's response. Spider-Man was so diplomatic, he knew how to speak to a higher power, and he knew what words to say to make people see his view. He liked this kid, how he spoke and treated him, equal in respect but acknowledgement of his status.
“You need a way out of the prison?” He questioned.
Peter relaxed in his stance, shoulders relaxing as he rubbed his neck with one hand.
“Yes, my Lord. I’m afraid the Prison is stationed in the middle of the ocean. My AI, MASON, has all of the information to give you, it’s just that it would need to be an airlifted evac. I can only do so much from here,” he confessed to the man as a smile came to his face.
“Have MASON send me the coordinates; I will come get you myself. Group on the top of the prison and wait there.” T’Challa stood and straightened out his jacket.
“Yes, sir, thank you.” The relief in the teenagers' voice made the King smile.
“Spider-Man, sir was my father, call me T’Challa.” He told him before ending the transmission.
Peter scoffed happily, turning to look at Clint.
“Make sure you have everything; we’re getting off this metal heap.” Scott whooped happily, high fiving Sam as they relished in their escape.
Clint smiled happily, the memory of his son’s promise coming to mind. Peter was a hero, he thought to himself. Ever since he had come to the prison Wanda hadn’t been shocked once, he forced himself into the spotlight and held it until everyone was safe. He was the only one to get hurt in longer than Clint wanted to remember. He survived torture and overcame to stand tall as a hero.
“Great work, Spidey,” he told him as he fist bumped a spandex covered hand.
“You’re a hero,” Wanda commented next to him, making Peter laugh. Ironic that she thought of him as a hero, but Clint left it alone. Wanda was young, only nineteen, and it was normal she admired someone young like Peter for his hard work.
Peter went to respond but was cut off.
“My Lord, it seems that my creator has realized your retina scan has activated once more. He’s attempting to contact you,” MASON spoke from the control panel.
“Fuck, put him through,” Peter told his AI as he waited with bated breath for Mason to begin screaming through the mask. It took a moment, but when the call connected, Peter clasped his hands and prayed Mason wasn’t angry.
“Peter?! Peter, please be alive! You’re suit says it’s in the middle of the fucking Atlantic and as far as I’m aware there’s nothing in the Atlantic Ocean!” Mason’s panicked voice came through the mask and Peter relaxed. He wasn’t screaming, that was good.
“Techie,” he told him with a sigh of relief. Peter could hear Mason heave a heavy breath, a ‘thank gods’ following it under the teen's breath.
“I’m alive, I’m okay, I swear. I just need you to listen carefully,” he told the room, turning away from the grown men again.
“Listening loud and clear, I’m just so happy to hear your voice.” Peter laughed, raising his mask over his nose as he breathed out heavily.
“Techie, trust me, I’m so fucking happy to hear your voice too. Listen, I’m in a prison, I managed to sway the affections of the guards and made an escape. I’m waiting on an evac from T’Challa - the King of Wakanda - and I need a status report quickly. Just give me a minute to wrap up what I’m doing, gather all your data while I do this.” Peter swung a finger around, indicating the others wrap up their gear.
“Move to the rooftop; MASON, guide the way for them.” He turned to the wall, climbing it absentmindedly to cling to it in the direction of the doors.
Scott and Sam dropped their jaws, even knowing he could do it, seeing it be done so nonchalantly was still shocking to them. Clint and Wanda were impressed as well but didn’t express it as openly.
“I’d like to stay with you,” Wanda told the teen quietly as she separated from Clint. Peter thought for a moment, if she stayed, others might want to do the same.
“Only you,” he responded, smiling at her before waving off the men in the room. Clint gave Wanda a silent goodbye, a tight clasp on the shoulder, eyes begging for her to watch his son's back before he left through the door, guided by the Welsh voice of Peter’s AI.
“Techie, status report.” Peter watched Wanda levitate herself off the ground, crossing her legs to meditate quietly as she faced the door.
“Devil and Arrows are together for the most part, but Arrows hasn’t been on the streets. Everyone has followed Protocol: Web Shortfall to the ‘T’ as far as I’m concerned. Light and Dark have stuck together for the most part and haven’t gone out to fight crime, but they have used their powers, at least Dark has. Everyone else has done as instructed, even the turtles have kept off the streets.” That was a heavy relief, no one had been hurt and no one was in danger. Everyone was safe.
“What about you?” Peter asked, watching Wanda carefully as he listened to Mason speaks.
“I’ve been searching day and night for you and your suit, outside of mental and physical exhaustion, I’m fine. It’s like everyone who was after me thought that it was a dangerous idea to try and go after me when all of the vigilantes in New York simultaneously disappeared in a single night.” Mason was the son of a very prominent partner in most technology companies, and he had a father who was very prestigious and renowned in the fashion industry. Being Spider-Man wasn’t just a safeguard barrier for the other vigilantes of the state or even just to be the friendly neighborhood hero, it was also a protection method for Mason.
Mason Sharpe, prodigy in just about everything but physical activity, he was considered Peter’s ‘maker’ as well as the creator of MASON aka Major Achievement in Sarcastic Operating Networking. Peter was grateful to him; he was who made and continued to upgrade his suit.
“You know I’m alive now, I’ll be safe in Wakanda for a little while, so you can sleep soundly. Until I get there Protocol: Web Shortfall is still in place. I’ll gather everyone for a full debrief as soon as I land on solid ground,” he told his friend as he cracked his neck again.
“Alright, good, I’ll talk to you then, just get there safely. If anything happens, MASON will inform me.” Peter said his goodbyes to the other teen before settling down on the ground while the call ended itself.
“My Lord, they’ve made it to the rooftop. King T’Challa is only a little way out, I suggest moving to the rooftops to join the Emperor and the other two men.” Peter didn’t ask who the Emperor was and MASON wasn’t going to elaborate. He turned to Wanda.
“Stretch for a minute, we might need to fight our way out.” He cracked his neck and back easily as Wanda stretched herself for a moment.
“Ready?” Peter asked her and his AI as he reached for the spider emblem connected to the side of the control center's paneling. With a nod and a brisk ‘yes’ from MASON, he pulled the black emblem off the metal and pushed it back onto his chest. The doors all opened, MASON’s hold on the Raft gone and therefore all of the preventative measures made to keep the doors shut.
Slowly, the two red-clad heroes made their way through the maze of halls, guided only by MASON in Peter’s ear. They interacted with several guards yet were easily stopped by Wanda who - with a flick of her wrist - sent the men and women going after them to experience their worst fears and therefore sending them into a staggering halt when it came to fighting them back into any kind of cell.
“Damn, that’s a scary fucking power.” Peter poked a guard's cheek as they passed, the comment absentmindedly made.
“You think?” She asked, looking at him with curiosity.
“Hell yeah,” he told her, “you'll have to try it on me sometime.”
“Clint would kill me.” The comment seemed to go over Peter’s head. “I only used this against my enemies when I was with HYDRA, and therefore on the Avengers. You’ll have to ask Captain Rogers about it when we get to Wakanda. It is not a pleasant experience for some people.”
“Don’t care, wanna try it, kinda looks like fun.” He seemed unphased by the fact that Steve Rogers was shaken up by her powers, Steve was not afraid of anything, and for him to be afraid of her powers in the beginning said something about the extent of her abilities.
They continued to make their way through the halls, Peter had taken Wanda’s hand at some point to stop her from walking right into the barrel of a gun when she’d been magicking another guard. He’d decided that he was going to not let go because it was important that he didn’t lose her in the maze.
When they made it to the top of the prison and through the door, T’Challa was waiting with Clint, Sam, and Scott inside the jet the King had brought. Peter and Wanda had brought a barrage of bullets in their wake. Quickly Peter let go of Wanda’s hand.
“I would suggest the jet takes off and you gather in it from the air, my Lord.” MASON told him through his ear as the two teenagers ran from the - now several dozen - guards who wanted their heads.
“Take off!” He screamed as he swung his hand up in a pointed motion. The King motioned to the pilot and the jet began taking off, much to the displeasure of Clint.
Wanda and Peter turned, sending off their own shots, Peter stooped in front of Wanda to act as a protection if needed. Peter flung as much webbing as he could while Wanda manipulated the bullets to her liking.
“A flashy exit, sire.” MASON ordered promptly, causing Peter to turn and rise to his full height, lifting Wanda with one arm and running as she continued to cast spells.
“Gotta go, Wanda! Hold on!” He told her loudly as he sprinted. With one hand holding his shoulder in a harsh grip, Wanda continued diverting bullets. Peter flicked out a hand and a web quickly attached to the jet, it shifted at the new weight on its rear; he held Wanda tighter.
“Liftoff!” He screamed, causing Wanda to release her other hand and shift her arms harshly, using her magic to boost them through the air and towards the jet. Peter released his webbing and shot a second line, swinging them into the jets cabin. He was sure the pilots no longer liked him, but he wasn't worried about that.
The landing was harsh, and Peter turned, holding Wanda to his chest as he shifted to his back, taking the brunt of the landing. His head thumped onto the floor of the cabin as he looked out to see the door shutting. He looked up at Wanda as she sat up to look around, and he laughed.
Peter laughed, it was childish and freeing, and it made Clint’s heart light up. They were safe.