same two streets
fuck with the stars

Summary: The world tears itself apart trying to right the things that have gone wrong, and Peter falls—for the sake of Tony.

Prompt: Reading through the summaries of some of the Spider-Man crossover with Avengers stories before Spidey: Hoco came out, and I thought well, things would certainly be different if Peter was present throughout the whole Avengers formation and thereafter arcs, and I love secret identities and angsty hiding secrets so this, this is what happens when I can't find the perfect story I want to read—I just wrote it myself and while this is in nowhere near perfect at all, it's a little closer to my ideal "Peter Parker meeting the Avengers but they don't know he's a kid and fifteen with all these crazy emotional baggage shit". Also, I'm very curious about Peter's perspective on the whole, if I could go back in time will I forfeit being Spider-Man to keep Ben alive, but then that would also mean I'll never meet Mr Stark—so which one is it, Peter?

A/N: This chapter has not been read over for mistakes and grammatical errors. (WARNING, ONLY READ THIS NEXT PART ONCE YOU HAVE FINISHED READING THE CHAPTER! SPOILER ALERT!) Peter spends an unhealthy amount of time on the rooftops this chapter, doesn't he? Lmao. Well, it's all he can really do to hide himself from the public eye. I really wanted to use this chapter to explore more of Peter's character—there's a big sense of difference here bc I wanted to create a parallel of him being a child in this timeline, and the fact that he is not. He is essentially the latter half of being 15 years old here (the timeline being, Peter was 14 in Civil War, newly turned fifteen in Homecoming, making him roughly around early 14 years old when he first got his powers (altho I do mind someone somewhere stating that Peter's had his powers for about a year and half during Civil War which would make him about thirteen years old when he acquired them in the way I'm using his age but just for shits let's say he got his powers earlier in the year before Civil War okay). Homecoming is set two months after Civil War, and this is eight/nine months after Hoco so just please bear these dates in mind so that you don't get lost—I know I do. Anyway, this chapter was supposed to help Peter realize that there's a lot more things that will impact the way he changes things in the past, it was also supposed to explore Peter's budding maturity, if you will—like the first para states about his inexperience, and coming into this new world with new and different opportunities. Peter has a lot of worries that he wants to forget about, and this is how he chooses to cope with it—by fulfilling some of that craving he never has time. Hoco explores a lot of Peter being a kid while also shouldering that adult responsibility of saving the world—I'm trying to cash in on that. Bc Peter is a semi-adult but at the same time he still has tendencies of a child, which you saw in this chapter. He needs that adult support, a pillar to lean on, and being someone who's stuck in a world where doesn't know anyone, he's inclined to make rash and terrible decisions. I hope you all held on to the end and didn't find this chapter boring, it's a little bit of a filler since like I said before, there were things that had been moved from the last chapter to this chapter to accommodate the length of the last chapter and the events of this chapter is used to fill in some of the gaping holes that move left. Aside from that, I rly wanted a chapter to just focus on Peter as grown boy, I also wanted to incorporate Liz bc I love Liz, l think she's a darling, and I wanted to also include Toomes bc thinking back to Hoco, it was clear that he too was affected by some of the things that happened to the Avengers. So I hope you all enjoyed this. Last thing, did anyone else pick up on that small Marvel character cameo? I mean look—it was a one time thing for this chapter, it's not something too big to worry or fret over, they have absolutely no connection in the comics either, as far as I am aware of, but I needed a character and I pulled her out. If you knew me at all, or have read my stories for awhile you will know that I love that family so much, and if I could I'd inject them into all my writing, but that's not really ideal—is it. Nonetheless, it was a one time thing and they won't be appearing anymore in this story, and if you wish they would then I'm sorry, but if you didn't like or care about it, it's not going to happen again :)

Disclaimer: I just don't own The Avengers, be it the comics, films or cartoons.

Peter never tried the teenage life, like how Tony told him how to. Well, told as in, prattle on stories about his drunken misadventures, experimental use of drugs, and fuck nights with pretty girls that smelled like bad decisions. Tony always, always makes it a point to remind Peter that he should be better—even though, deep inside Tony's heart, he knows Peter already is. This means that Tony explicitly forbids him to do any of those things listed above. Peter always snarks back with a playful roll of his eyes and a small elbow to the ribs. Have you met me Mr Stark, I'll never be able to do any of those things even if I wanted to—I'm too much of a priss, Peter would say. And while he thinks being a priss is a terribly awful thing, Tony cannot help but be happier that Peter is too much of one as he says, because it at least ensures that he'll never make the same mistakes Tony has.

But tonight's different. Peter says screw it to all that tightness that binds him to the ground, and he'll trade his morals for the highs, just for tonight—if he can find a way to get out of his suit, that is.

Swinging lazily across New York City, a little ways off from Manhattan, he lets a smile tug up his lips underneath his mask. The city breeze is soft against his covered skin as he falls freely from building to building, before catching himself by one of his webs. Karen is quiet, and the night is peaceful. Even miles away, he can smell the scent of strong alcohol, chalky make-up, and salty sweat. Curiosity gets the better of him, and swings across New York, spying a small club down one of the less popular streets in Brooklyn. The place is packed with young people, so much younger than him, all lined up trying to get in without ID. He lands on the roof of one of the buildings across the club, Karen working to disable every camera within the perimeter that could catch any glimpse of Spider-Man. Peter looks down from the roof to see girls in short dresses and high stilettos, walking into the shady looking building with mesmerized men following hot behind their trail.

"What's going on here, Karen?"

Peter asks, his lenses zooming in to a small focus.

"It seems to be an ordinary club, Peter."

"Ah." Peter breathes, the neon lights catching his interest as they flash through the dark street in luminous pinks and blues, psychedelic colors he's never experienced before. "Hey Karen, you think we should go down and join the party?"

"Peter, I must remind you that you are still in your Spider-Man outfit." Karen's sweet voice hums, not as a reprimand, but in an alarming tone nonetheless. "If you wish to join the party as you say, you must change into regular clothes."

"Yeah, because I have any of those with me."

Peter scoffs, leaning forward just a little bit more to get a better view of the happenings below, before he shakes his head and pulls away to detach himself from the cemented railing of the roof. He flips back in a stand, stomping his foot a little to balance himself.

"Well, since we can't party, and going back to the tower right now is out of the question, why don't you tap into the police scanners and see what's going on in Brooklyn?" Peter snickers cheerfully to himself. "I'm sure Cap would appreciate it if we protected his city for a little while."

Karen obediently follows Peter's instructions. It takes a few minutes for her to reach anything online as the difference in technology between her and of this time is vast, resulting in a longer adjustment period.

"Two men are harassing a woman one block away from the club."

"Got it."

Peter is quick to jump off, heading straight towards the location that Karen helpfully maps out for him. He swings quick, his stitched up side shooting small prickling pain, but he ignores it, revelling only in the vibrant feel of the dark city sky and the lights that glow his way. He arrives at the scene, curling himself behind one of the sleek black cars, eyes taking note of two tall shadows hovering over one small figure. The men breathe out mischief, and morbid snickers smelling like booze.

"Hey Karen, is there anyway we can do this without being seen?" He mumbles, crawling slowly, careful not to trigger any other noise. "Wouldn't want Spider-Man to debut earlier than he's supposed to."

"Mr Stark has recently installed the first version of your suit's stealth mode, would you like to give that a try?"

"Really? That's awesome!"

Peter exclaims, a little too loudly for his own liking. He sees one of the men turn to his direction, and he huddles himself further into the car, watching as the man raise a confused eyebrow whilst looking around, before shrugging it off and turning his attention back to the lady.

"When did he do it?"

"Two weeks ago when you asked him to fix the fried wires that was a result of your failed sneak attack against one of the biggest underground drug businesses."

"Oh yeah." Peter squeaks, a little bit of shame in his breath, before quickly recovering with a cough. "What can the stealth mode do, Karen?"

"This is just a prototype in the works, therefore there are not a lot of features fully developed." Karen explains, as Peter begins to fiddle with the spider drone on his chest, the tips of his toes and fingers just about ready to jump up in case the men decide that talking is no longer enough. "It can however, turn your suit black from head to toe, enough to hide you in the shadows. Will that be okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He nods vigorously, extremely aware of the steps the men are taking to get closer to the lady. "Anything really, just to ensure that no one sees me in the Spider-Man get up, you know?"

"Of course Peter."

His whole suit lights up, scaling every inch of fabric and turning it into the darkest shade of black. Peter's eyes go wide behind his mask, a small wow escaping his lips.

"Thanks Karen, you're the best!"

Peter jumps off his hiding spot just in time to see one of the men take a big step forward to reach out a hand and grab the lady. Peter shoots a taser web at the fingers that were ready to claim what is not rightfully his. Confused, the man turns only to have his hand pulled up to smack himself on the cheek.

"What the fuck?"

The other man shouts, one hand behind to grab whatever weapon he's hidden in his back pocket. Peter is quick and doesn't give him a chance to use it as he slides to the ground and sweeps the two men off their feet with a strong kick of his leg.

"Man, you trying to kiss a girl with that mouth?" Peter wittily crows as he jumps to his feet, pulling one of the guys up and then throwing him against the wall and shooting another web to lock him in. "I don't think you'll get very far with that kind of tactic, buddy."

The other man scrambles to stand with heated aggression evident in his eyes. He lunges for the black clad figure, only to run straight into the wall his friend is attached to, Peter jumping up in time to dodge the attack.

"Maybe you should listen when a girl says no—unless you want to spend your forever alone time in jail."

Peter shoots another web, sticking both men together on the wall, face to face. With a masked grin, he turns to look back at the scared lady, mid twenties, wide eyed, and desperately trying to crawl away from the scene. He frowns at the sight, and tries to take a step forward.

"Hey, are you okay?" Peter asks, gently, as the girl shakes frantically, backing herself further against the wall behind her. "No, no, no, don't worry—I'm not going to hurt you."

The lady doesn't seem to calm down, and Peter curses to himself, careful not to take another step closer as he mumbles for Karen to check the lady's vitals.

"Aside from scratches on her knees, there are no other visible or immediate injuries, or any other threats to her health. She is completely unharmed."

Peter only nods, looking regretful at the the scared figure huddled away from him. She's pretty – he's got to admit – but not Liz Allen pretty with big doe eyes and precious lips, and she's not Michelle Jones pretty with a grungy kind of suspicious glare and always knowing smile. She's kind of like, Aunt May pretty, with the nice innocent and worried eyes, and wild messy hair that can only look better tamed. Peter doesn't try to dwell on all of that though, he's sure she's not going to want to be touched right now—not especially from a stranger who's dressed in what looks like an all black latex. He's not the well known Spider-Man in this time, he has to remind himself. He's not recognized by anyone and his help will not always be welcomed by the people of New York because they're not used to it—in here, he's just some random vigilante that's showing up at the right time.

"Can you get home okay?"

He asks slowly, arms crossed as he leans forward a little bit, mindful of the distance between them. When she doesn't reply, only staring at him with wide eyes, Peter hums a shrug, deciding fully to just try his luck. He extends a hand for her to take, and she looks at it, confused and unsure. A long five minutes passes by, Peter is still offering her his hand, just waiting for her response. A few minutes more, before she finally accepts. With a soft tug, he pulls her up to a stand, and stumbles forward. He catches her well before she falls back again.

"Hey, don't be scared, okay?" He speaks softly, awkwardly patting her shoulder. "I won't hurt you."

"I—I know."

The girl talks, finally, soft voice as she looks Peter, in his all black attire, up and down.

"Um, I have to go." Peter tries to pull his hand away, and she lets him go shakily, with a soft nod. "Do you need help getting home?"

"No, I'm fine." She bites her bottom lip, eyes nervously darting to the two unconscious men across the other wall. "I just, thank you."

Peter nods, smiling—although he knows she can't see it. He turns away from her, running off to the corner, ensuring she's no longer in seeing distance, before shooting a web to one of the buildings and pulling himself up to the roof.

"Okay Karen, anything else?"

"There seems to be a lost and wandering child by the gates of Coney Island."

"Really?" Peter breathes as he runs through the roof of one apartment complex, jumping up to the next, his webs catching him every time. "Okay Karen, show us the fastest route."

"Yes Peter." Karen systematically calculates, the screen littered with her rerouting. "I must also warn you Peter, you are running low on web fluid."

"Shit." Peter curses, a hand instinctively down to his side belt where he keeps extra capsules of web fluid, only to find none left. "I have to go back to the Stark tower, don't I?"

"It would be best for you to." Karen explains, quite sympathetically, if an AI could sound like so – and Peter's sure if there is an AI that could, it'd be Karen. "All the equipment and chemicals you need to create another batch of web fluid is available in the tower."

"What am I going to do about Mr Stark? I can't keep hacking his system through you." Peter rambles, panic rising like bile up his throat. "He's not stupid, he'll figure out a way to catch us, one way or another—heck, he probably already has!"

"Then might I suggest telling him the truth?"

"Karen, no." Peter lets out a frustrated hiss at his AI, completely unwarranted, and if you asked him—he didn't mean it at all. "How many times do we have to go over this?"

"It was only a suggestion Peter." Karen tries to explain, her voice ever so understanding and Peter begins to wonder the many times since he's arrived here that he's snapped at Karen. "But it is the most advisable suggestion I can provide."

"I'm sorry Karen, but right now, that is not an option." He grits out, still swinging through Brooklyn, the corner of his mask indicating all the street cameras that Karen is continuously trying to intercept. "But if you can come up with anything else, I'd greatly appreciate that. For now though—"

Peter lands on top of one of the Coney Island roller coaster rails—ironically enough it was that same rail he had rested upon the night of homecoming. He shakes the stray thoughts away and focuses himself instead on trying to find any signs of a child running around.

"Karen, any idea where the kid is?"

"Yes Peter, heat signature is emitting from the car park, on a slow trek to the boardwalk."

Nodding, Peter jumps and heads for the next railing, shooting a small web out to help him swing down to the rough tarmac of the parking lot, dusted with shards of sparkling sand. He follows Karen's directions, eyes sharp as he tries to fight through the darkness, a tight constrict holding his heart as the events of homecoming begin to slowly replay itself in his mind—no consent whatsoever.

The dust.

The fire.

The smell of concrete.

The smell of sweat.

Mr Toomes.

Liz' crying face.

There's a thumping in his chest he tries so hard to ignore, but breathing is hard as he almost sees that very night unfold before his eyes—the debris and shrapnels scattered all over the place, smoke that clogged up his lungs, and pain that shot through his arms as he tried to save the Vulture. Back then, it seemed like all of that had been the right thing to do, and to him, it still might just be.

"Karen, where's the kid?"

He scolds, a harsh breath leaving his iron flavored lips.

"Peter, she is right in front of you."

His eyes widen. Peter tries to shake off the hysteria of his memories playing back intrusively—all vivid as if they have always been there. He chokes on invisible smoke, his vision blurring, before the morbid images fade amongst themselves, disappearing into the New York City night, and he stands there in front of a crying little girl, head buried in her palms as she cries for her father. Peter wonders when and how he got here again—for a moment there, he thought he'd been reliving homecoming night, and the fear that grips him is chilling. Coney Island is dangerous for his mental health, he concludes.

"Hey, hey, kid!"

Peter exclaims, scrambling towards her as he falls to his knees in an attempt to console. The little girl takes a small peak between her wet fingers, and shrieks, seeing Peter's black attire.

"Wait, no!" He cries desperately as she tries to pull away from him. "No, no, no, look!"

Peter wills Karen to turn stealth mode off, his suit flickering back into its original form of red and blue, streaks of bright light sparking as it tries to correct itself. He stands and takes a careful step forward, as she takes a step back of her own.

"No, don't be scared, I'm not going to hurt you, okay?"

He reasons, feeling a sense of déjà vu from just thirty minutes ago of trying to coax that lady who was being harassed into the beckon of his safety. The little girl hiccups, tears running down her delicate face—and her eyes are so big, like drops of doe. Like—like the way Liz' eyes are.

"I'm here to help, okay?"

"Wh—who are you?"

"I'm—I'm Spider-Man."

Peter breathes, biting his tongue as soon as the words leave his mouth. He knows he'll regret it later, but at that moment—it feels right to just say it. She's a kid, and she needs help, and Peter remembers feeling helpless at that age, waiting for a hero to come and save him—and then, Iron Man came.

"S—Spider-Man?"

"Yeah."

He takes another step forward, even more careful than before. He hopes she doesn't take another step back. He waits a moment for her movement, but she stays still, so he takes it as a sign of acceptance. Peter slowly makes his way over to her, bending down to kneel once again, his gloved hand gently patting her back. It's less awkward with her than it was with the other lady.

"Are you okay?"

"I want my Daddy."

She struggles to say through her tears. Peter is tight lipped, unsure of how to deal with small, crying children—but he tries nonetheless. He continues to pat her back, occasionally rubbing small circles to soothe her.

"We'll find your daddy."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"You're not going to hurt me?"

She shakily asks, lifting a tiny little pinky up. She's nervous, he can tell, but Peter doesn't miss a beat of crossing his own pinky over hers—completely eradicating all her doubts with one small gesture.

"Never."

She nods, satisfied. Unsure of what else to do, Peter scratches the back of his neck whilst shuffling to his feet, trying to think of a conversation starter while also calculating to go about looking for her lost father.

"Hey, how'd you lose your dad?"

He asks casually, hoping to get answers that might just help.

"We were both leaving Coney Island because he took me out for the day." She begins, frantic and breathless. "Daddy works a lot and today is his only day off and he wanted to spend it with me."

Peter nods along, listening carefully to every word she says, in hopes of cluing himself in on any useful information. He feels her small frame begin to shake again as more tears form in the corner of her eyes, and he grabs her hand, squeezing it tight.

"But then he had to take a very important call, and there was a lot of people, and I saw something really pretty and I tried to chase it but it disappeared and when I looked around I'm back in Coney Island and I can't find my daddy."

"What was this pretty thing you were trying to chase?"

"A pretty purple light. It was bright, and it was floating."

There's something weird about her story—glowing purple thing? Sounds a little like something he's encountered before. He doesn't let his suspicions show through though, instead he continues to prompt the little girl into interacting with him, hoping to calm her down.

"I see." He nods gently, looking her in the eye through his mask as he speaks. "What's your name?"

"Liz."

Li—wait, what?

"Liz?"

If things couldn't have been more ironic than they already were.

"Yeah." She nods shyly, and Peter can see the similarities, from the eyes, her dark skin almost the same shade in this lighting, and those lips that pout in that small precious manner. "Liz Allan."

"Liz Al—"

Oh shit.

"O—okay." Peter stutters, his throat dry as he throws a quick glance up to the sky, silently pleading God to stop this cruel, cruel joke he's playing at. "Okay, L—Liz, I'm going to help you find Mr To—I mean your dad, okay?"

She nods, wiping the tears gathered in the corners of her big doe eyes with her small hands. Peter breathes in the nerves, wondering what it is in him that attracts so much trouble and unnecessary bad luck. Of all people—of all places, it just has to be.

"Hey Mr Spider-Man?"

Liz timidly asks, breaking Peter out of his inner crisis as he turns to her.

"Yeah?"

"Can I see your face?" She asks shyly. "Please?"

"Peter, I believe that is not a good idea."

Karen berates and Peter would have to agree—if not for those massive doe eyes staring at him with all the goddamn innocence in the world. Damn, even as a kid, Liz is very, very pretty. And he really can't say no when she looks at him like—like that. So ignoring Karen's warnings, he removes his mask, smiling at her as he does so. Liz reaches up, trying to ruffle the curls of his brown hair, and giggles at the softness of it.

"Happy?"

"Yeah."

"Right, up you get."

Peter says, pulling her in closer as he lifts her up, her small fist tight on the fabric of his suit. He stands and softly drops his mask down on her lap, carrying her in one arm by her legs. He can taste the salty beach air that roughly blows their direction, and he holds the little girl tight and close to his chest. He concentrates on his senses, trying to find any sound or movement that could indicate maybe another person on the beach. Maybe Mr Toomes is out here, coming back to look for Liz.

"Hey, Mr Spider-Man?"

"Yeah?" He mutters absentmindedly. "What's up?"

"Why do you wear a mask?"

"To keep my identity safe."

"Why?"

"Because I have people to protect." He tries to explain calmly, running fast out of the parking lot, back to the main city. "And if people find out who I am, the bad guys will try to use those I love to hurt me."

"That's not good."

"No it's not." He smiles down on her, fondly. "Hold tight."

Peter shoots a web as Liz buries her face into his chest, scared. He swings out, the air assaults his now unmasked cheeks, and Liz whimpers silently in his hold. After a few minutes of swinging, they're finally out of the Island, and Peter lands gracefully on one of the darkened streets of Brooklyn. He gently sets Liz down, still keeping a tight hold of her hand as he takes his mask from her lap and slides it back on, asking Karen to switch back to stealth mode as he does so. Liz looks at up at him, trying to make sense of his presence, of his small stature – her daddy is definitely bigger than this small boy – his skinny arms that flexed muscles hidden beneath the now black suit. There's something quite safe and familiar about him, something she can't quite get. But she knows she can trust him—definitely.

"I promise I'll never to tell your secret."

She suddenly blurts, and he turns to look down on her, surprise evident in his voice.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah!" She swears erratically. "Not even to my dad—I'll protect you Mr Spider-Man!"

"Thanks Liz, I really appreciate that." He laughs heartily. "I really do."

"And if we find my daddy, I want to thank you."

She adds on, even more excitedly.

"You really don't have to do that."

"But I do!" She protests, seeing him try to deny her. "What would you like Mr Spider-Man?"

He shakes his head vigorously, but Liz just looks up at him in dismay. Really, he could laugh – because she's looking at him in that way only Liz would—like that time he said he couldn't make it to nationals, or when she asked him what he was sorry for.

"Come on, tell me!"

She demands, and he couldn't help the snark coming out of his mouth as he jokingly whispers – more to himself than to Liz.

"Some casual clothes to wear would be nice."

"I'll get you some!"

Peter realizes his mistakes a little too late as she looks up at him in glorified happiness.

"What?"

"You can borrow my daddy's."

"Here, I—"

Another protest begins to form in his mouth but Liz doesn't give him the chance to speak.

"You can find my house and I'll leave it outside in my window, okay?"

"Liz, you really don't—"

"No Mr Spider-Man, my daddy always told me to be grateful to anyone who helps me out."

Damn, Toomes taught Liz well.

"Okay, I'll take it."

Just as he gives in, he hears soft puffing breaths, and Karen details the height and the features of a man just a few yards away, effectively convincing Peter that it is Tomes coming their way. He snaps his attention away from Liz who is still prattling on and tugging at his hold on her, his lenses focused on a heat signature that's moving closer and closer.

"Liz?"

"Yes?"

"Your dad's here."

He mutters before gently letting go of her, and then sending a web up one of the buildings. He pulls himself up as soon as his hand leaves hers, and Liz' eyes widen in confusion. Peter doesn't have time to explain, instead he gives her a salute as he swings up to the top of the roof, in time to avoid Toomes rounding up the corner to see a frantic looking Liz, staring up at the skyline in which Peter had disappeared to.

"Liz, sweetheart!"

Toomes cries out, scrambling to his daughter as he pulls her into a tight hug.

"Daddy."

She mumbles, her small figure shaking, and Peter can see from the distance on top, the silent tears that gloss over her doe eyes. She breathes in her father's scent as he pulls her away, hands running through every inch of her to make sure she's okay. His hand slides over her hair, to her arms and little waist, before he pulls her in for another hug, releasing a tight breath of relief.

"I'm so glad you're okay."

Peter watches the scene, smiling at the sight. He tries to remind himself that this Toomes—he hasn't done anything yet. Just like how Captain America hasn't betrayed Tony yet—heck, they probably haven't even met yet. Toomes is still innocent – he's still a working man, he's still a family guy, and he still has yet to let greed takeover him. Peter thinks back to his list of things to do, and he wonders if there's any way he can change things for Liz and her family too, the same way he plans to for Mr Stark.

"Peter, you only have twelve percent of web fluid left."

Karen reminds him, and he sighs, wondering what he'll do with just that.

"Is that enough to get us back to Liz' house to grab those clothes she promised us?"

"It would seem so."

Nodding, Peter jumps off to the next building, the distance close enough that he didn't need to web his way there. Instead, he tries to save the last bit of his webs for distances he knows he won't make. He's fast and efficient, the time glaring 10pm at the corner of his mask. He wonders how long Liz had been loitering around Coney Island for, and he wonders how long Toomes had been looking for her. He wonders about Mr Stark, and if the man has found him out yet. He wonders about Uncle Ben and Aunt May, if they're okay, and if the younger version of him is doing well. He would be asleep now—he knows that, because he should've been two hours ago, because that was his assigned bed time back then. All these thoughts whir around his head, and he arrives atop Liz' house in record time, silently waiting for their arrival.

It takes a long good hour of waiting, before he hears the engine coming up the driveway. He looks up from his position, sprawled like a cross on top of the roof, before he sits up like he's coming out of some sort of a coffin. He sees the blinding orange light that floods the silent neighborhood, and he listens to the father and daughter getting out of the car. He crawls a little to the edge, seeing Liz bouncing up to their front door. The house looks so much different from what it would be, five years from now. Peter can tell how much money Toomes ends up raking in with his illegal business, because he knows all the improvements made at a later date would not be possible without that extra flow of cash. He sees the small home, its simple and it's warm, but it's nothing like the extravagance he once visited—the many windows are replaced by red brick walls, and the marble countertop, he can see from outside, is just a simple wooden table.

He watches from his position as Liz shuffles in her room, going out of it for a few long minutes before coming back with a handful of big clothes. She folds them nicely, and delicately, with her small fingers, and her mother comes in asking what she's doing. Liz just shrugs and holds the clothes close to her body, marveling the scent of her father. Her mother can do nothing but smile, patting her head before she walks out of the room, leaving Liz once again back to her own devises. A few more minutes before she's completely folded the clothes and stacked them up neatly. She leaves it by her window, the glass frame slightly ajar, with a note scrawled in curved writing. She closes her curtains, but Peter knows that's his cue. He shoots a web and flings the folded clothes towards him, taking the note in into gloved hands, and reading it through his spider lens.

Here's your clothes, Mr Spider-Man. Daddy wore this when he was still thin—I hope you like it!

– Liz

Peter smiles at the gesture, and shoots another web at the window, aiming for the pen she left just beside the former stack of clothes. He swiftly catches it, scribbling his own reply to her, before shooting the note back to the window, his web helping it stick on the right side.

Thank you!

–Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man

After that, he quickly unzips himself out of his suit on the rooftop, throwing it haphazardly on the floor as he is left in his underwear, pulling the faded jeans up his torso and pulling the shirt over his head. He then layers on the leather jacket provided for him, and then puts on the socks, before the shoes. Once he's dressed, he's finally feeling a little bit more loose and free, and he could not be more thankful for that. Fully suited up in casual gear, he jumps down from the roof and slips through the back, tucking the suit safely inside the leather jacket. He's aiming to make it back to Brooklyn as fast as he can.

He orders a taxi on the way back to the club, fully intent on drinking the night away with the stash of cash he's hidden in one of his belt pockets of the Spider-Man suit. Quite ironic of him to not have any web fluid left but he's got enough money to blow on a couple of bottles of drinks. Upon arriving, he slides to the roof across, grabbing the money, before he throws his suit at the most shadowed corner of the area, shooting up all remaining web fluid he has left to hide every inch of red and blue. Once satisfied that all there is is white looking netting stuck to the wall, he nods to himself before crawling down the fire escape to the back alley, and running for the club. He lines himself up outside, the crowd of people still willing to get inside never dying down. And Peter can smell the alcohol stronger now, and he can feel himself vibrate in excitement. Man, he really needs a drink tonight.

It takes a long time before Peter gets inside—and by the time he does, it's nearing half past twelve and the DJ's calling it his last playlist of the night, yet there's still too many people in the club. He thinks back to arrogant Flash and his make-believe dj skills, and he wonders how he's doing right now. Just like Mr Toomes, and Captain America, the Flash of this time has done him no wrong—just yet. They're all innocents, unknowing, clueless people who Peter has the chance to change for the better. But he doesn't want to think too much about it, at least not right now—because there's so many different scents of cherry alcohol and smoked breaths lingering around him, and the lights are bright and dark all at the same time, and his senses are dialed to eleven.

He buys a shot, and another one, and another one after that—until he's flopping on the bar with ecstasy pulsing through his fingers, and wonder in his eyes. He sees the bartender, dark hair, glassy eyes, and a sly smile, come up to him, and ask if he's okay. He doesn't really know how to answer that, but his lips part in an attempt to do so—she doesn't let him. Instead, she dips in forward, swallowing whatever excuse he tries to make, her mouth all over his, and she's dragging him to the bathroom, and she's taking off the clothes he'd just put on, and she's pushing him against the tiled walls of the stalls, and they're fucking the rest of the night away.

Peter loses his virginity at fifteen, in 2010, with a girl he hardly knows. He moans Lorna into her ear, his hot breath fanning over her lobes—because she's trailing kisses on his neck with feathery whispers of the name and he just assumes that it's hers. Peter would've liked to lose it to someone else. Maybe to Liz, who'd be gentle and soft, and careful and warm, and she'll smile up at him while tucking strands of her hair behind her ear. Or even MJ, who won't ever let him take the lead, because she doesn't believe in all that top and bottom stuff, and she'll look at him with sly suspicious eyes, and he'd whimper out all his secrets because MJ just has that sort of effect on him. He'd never thought of all ways to lose it—it'd happen one drunk night after a field day of time traveling, in some smelly and tight cubicle at a shady club in Brooklyn, with a girl he doesn't know that smells like smoke and metal, burning sensations, and new addictions. She's probably way older than him if they'd been in the right timeline—heck, even in this timeline, she's probably still older than him, she's a bartender for god's sakes. It makes him wonder how exactly he got in to this club—they'd never ask for ID, but that process is all a blur to him now. But it doesn't matter because for tonight, all he wants is to forget how he has irrevocably fucked with the stars of fate, and forget about Liz and her pretty eyes, and MJ and her snarky scowl, and Mr Stark who will probably never know him after all this.

When they finish—she lets him go panting, and he's so flustered that he pushes her off roughly as he picks up his—Mr Toomes'—clothes scattered on the dirty bathroom floor. He puts them all on as quick as he can and scrambles out of the cubicle, leaving her topless and braless, sitting down the closed toilet seat. His mind is buzzing with so many different thoughts—mainly it is screaming holy shit holy shit holy shit over and over again—as he runs through the crowd of raging underaged drinkers. As soon as he's out of the club, he runs across the street to the back alleyway, clambering up the walls of the building across trying to get to his suit. And when he lands on the rooftop, he just crawls as fast as he can to where he remembers having stuck his suit to, desperately clawing the webs he wrapped it all up in.

His mask is the first thing he untangles from the webs, and he hurriedly slides it on.

"Karen please call me Mr Stark." He cries into his mask. "Karen, please."

"Peter, you seem to be in heavy distress, and your heart rate is elevated." Karen's voice soothes his worries, but tears prick his eyes and a pain shoots through his side. "But I cannot contact Mr Stark."

Peter chokes, his nose filling up with unwanted snot as a hand runs through the stitches he's made earlier that day and remembers that girl licking the dried blood stains off with her long tongue. He whimpers further into his mask and frantically begs Karen to call Tony—he just wants Tony goddamnit.

"Karen please, I'll do anything you want just please!"

"Peter, you know I can't do that." She seems to be scolding him, but her voice is worried and soft. "Peter, what's wrong?"

"I just want to go home." He cries, pulling up his knees as he burrows his head into them for some comfort. "I want May back, I want Tony back, I don't like it here anymore Karen—please."

"Would you like me to contact Mr Stark of this time?"

There's silence. It's the calm kind of silence, with only Peter's hiccups echoing through the air. It doesn't last long though.

"Yeah."

The call is made, faster than Peter's heart can beat. Within two seconds he hears that voice, and through his muddled and drunken brain, it's all he needs right then.

Hello?