Chapter Text
When Peter Parker’s life started to turn upside down, it was raining.
Normally, rain was a problem for Peter Parker- it meant blurred glasses, soaked homework, and half the time, a cold the next day.
But rain was no problem for Spider-Man.
“Anything good?”
“Nothing,” came the voice in his ear. “Not so much as a purse snatcher.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” The second voice questioned. “You know, no robberies, no arson, no crime? Isn’t that a good night?”
“It’s a weird night,” Peter corrected, firing a web and latching onto the streetlamp to his left. “The police scanner always catches something.”
“Well, we’ve been on alert for hours and there’s been nothing. I say we call it quits.”
“I try not to quit until I’ve helped at least one person,” Peter protested.
“And what if there’s no one to help? You’ll just stay out until morning?”
“Hey, you never know. Sunrise brings a whole new mess of problems.”
“That’s surprisingly deep for you,” the second voice observed. “But just take the win, Pete. Accept it’s a quiet night and move on. You promised you wouldn’t be too long, remember?”
“Half an hour. Then I’m there.”
“Deal, but only if you bring food.”
“Duh, what kind of monster do you think I am?”
He heard Nico laughing on the other end of the line. “Okay, see you in thirty. Over and out.”
“Over and out, Ni- Grimm! See you soon.”
“God, I love codenames. Make sure to get something unhealthy!”
She hung up without another word, leaving only silence where the other voice on Spider-Man’s comm should have been.
“Cipher? You with me?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Here and ready for duty!”
Peter paused on top of a shuttered hot dog cart and squinted at the horizon. “Are you sure? You’ve been quiet all night.”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
“Okay. Then you talked to your dad?”
“And you’ve been answering his calls?” Harry shot back.
“Okay, ouch. Point taken.”
“Sorry. Just… no. I haven’t been talking to him.”
“And have you been… okay?”
“Why are you asking me that? He hurt you, not me.”
“I mean… isn’t it hard? Knowing what he did?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, okay? I’m still trying to keep him from finding out about W.E.B. Being at home is like being on the edge of a cliff.”
“Can’t you just go to a vacation house or something? Do you have one of those, or is that just a stereotype?”
“We have three, and no, I can’t. Those places are packed with cameras, and he’d send security with me if he knew I’d left.” A pause, and then- “I’m assuming you haven’t been talking to him either?”
“Not if I can help it. He’s called, like, ten times. I stopped listening to the voicemails.”
“Ugh. Sorry.”
“It’s no big deal.” Peter hesitated, bouncing up and down on his toes before shooting a line of web to the building across the street from the hot dog cart and asking, “Does he… is he asking about me?”
“Yeah. He asked me to tell you that he wants to talk to you. I said to ask you himself.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Anytime.”
Peter stood up on the hot dog cart and took a second to arch his back and work out the knots. Being Spider-Man served the double-edged purpose of putting him in the best shape of his life and simultaneously making his entire body ache like he’d just been run over by a car.
“Why don’t you sign off?” Peter suggested, exhaling long and slow as his back cracked. “I’ll be back in ten.”
“What happened to problem-filled sunrises?”
“I’m hungry, that’s what.”
“Sounds good. Signing off.”
The other end of the comm went silent, and Peter was left alone with his thoughts.
It was while he was leaning back, his head facing the sky above him, that he caught his first glimpse of the white blur.
It darted across his vision- too big to be a bird, too fast to be human. Peter straightened up and stared, wide-eyed, at the sky, craning his neck to see it again.
The street was quiet- too quiet.
Breaths coming shallow and fast, Peter turned around to face the other side of the street, just in time to see the white blur go vaulting onto the roof of a building across from his streetlamp. It was decidedly a person, tall and slight, but Peter wasn’t able to get a good look at their face.
Bouncing up and down on his toes, Peter webbed across the street to stand on the roof across from the figure. The gravel of the roof was cold under his feet, and he fought to control his breathing as he zoomed in with the lenses of his suit, trying to get a better look at the figure across from him.
Abruptly, they turned around, and Peter gasped.
The white of the figure was a suit- he could see that now. A suit that looked strangely, uncannily like his old suit, only completely white.
Peter flexed his hands, feeling a slight buzz start up in his head. He tensed- the buzzing, which Nico had affectionately dubbed his “danger headache,” (a name he hated but couldn’t find a better term for) only started up once he was in danger, or moments before a disaster, buying him enough time to protect himself.
But normally, it was stronger than this- it consumed his head, live-wiring all his senses. This was more like a bee, buzzing at the back of his skull. So what did it mean?
“Who are you?” He called, hating the way his voice trembled.
The figure turned to stare directly at him, body tensed. Their eyes were obscured behind white lenses, their whole face swallowed up by a white mask, so similar to his own, minus the web detailing.
“I said, who are you?”
The person walked forward, staring directly at him, steps light and silent over the rooftop. Just as seamlessly, they broke into a run toward Peter and sprinted straight past him, not stopping even as they approached the edge of the roof.
“Wait! Be caref-”
Without another word, they stuck their hand out in front of them and gave a two-fingered salute in Peter’s direction.
The next moment, they were whizzing into the air, seemingly held aloft by nothing as they went soaring over his head, landed on the chimney of Peter’s building, and sprinted out of sight.
“Wait!”
But his cries went completely unanswered, the silence of the night his only response. Bewildered, he walked forward, squinting at the chimney where they’d landed.
As he got close enough to properly see it, he sucked in a breath, his eyes widening.
Because clinging to the chimney, blowing slightly in the warm summer breeze, was a glinting strand he’d know anywhere.
A line of web.