Peter couldn't breathe.
The darkness was thick. Soupy. He tried to move but his arms were trapped, pinned in a cross over his chest. Ropes — no, not ropes, something wider, something thicker… bandages? Sheets? — were wrapped around his legs, his chest, his face—
Wriggling was hopeless. There was no give in his wrappings. Application of his full strength did nothing, his bindings merely stretching and shrinking with every twist and struggle.
Peter couldn't breathe—
No. No. He could breathe. Hot breath pooled against the sheets of something. It was just that Peter could only manage do it shallow or deep — either way, deliberate, conscious of every expansion and depletion of his lungs.
Mummified. Peter's heart stuttered at the realisation, at the flash of truth that accompanied the thought. He'd been mummified.
Blood and fear raced through him. Peter struggled harder, vicious in his panic now, only to swing ineffectually—
Swing?
Peter was— Peter was swinging. In the air. He wasn't lying down, wasn't swaddled in a coffin as Jason must have once been. He was wrapped up and hanging. Upside-down. He could tell from the momentum of his swings, because he sure as shit couldn't tell with his fucked-up sense of balance.
Sure enough, trying to spread his ankles apart revealed the additional pressure of another something. He was tethered by his feet.
Like a spider cocoons its prey.
Shouting was ineffectual: it bounced, smothered, by the web — it had to be web, scentless and elastic as it was. Peter wondered if was yellow like his own natural webbing, or ghostly white as the webs that clung to every nook and crevice of Gotham, before they turned black with grime and decay.
Still he tried to shout. "Hello? Help!"
The webs absorbed the sound like water into sand, wicking away the noises as soon as they were created. Peter bit back a sob. He attempted to dip into the Web, — the Red, as Ivy called it. Tried to brush his self against that beautiful network, only to realise — it was gone. Gone, replaced by… nothing. The web had disappeared.
Disappeared? Or… was Peter simply unable to touch it anymore?
The possibility of either horrified him.
And then — oh God, and then he felt it.
Something was moving across the web. Not the Red Web, but the web he was suspended from. One he only just realised he hung from. Vibrations, light and stealthy, plucked across it, the delicate bones of his toes picking up the movement.
In the hopes it wouldn't notice him, Peter stilled. Even his breath. His pulse thundered in his skull, chest already aching without oxygen. Perhaps it would walk on by. Perhaps it might think him dead.
Only belatedly did Peter consider that would be the absolute worst to happen.
After all… why did spiders wrap their freshly captured prey? It wasn't just to stop them getting away…
His double guesses were for nought. The thing — Peter dreaded to think what it was that inched its subtle way across the web — stopped. Close enough he could feel the web dip beneath its weight. He swung faintly with the change in tension.
Evolve, a voice rumbled through Peter's black world. Deeply resonant, it travelled through the silk, through his bones to land with a rattle in his skull.
"I can't," he breathed. Desperation had him twisting again, trying to contort himself in a way that might let him break free—
Evolve, the thing said again. Low and insistent but strong enough to make Peter's teeth ache. Images of Shelob, final offspring of Ungoliant, sprung unbidden to his mind. A monstrous behemoth, vile and poisonous, eight-legged and teeming with hate[1].
"No!" Even if Peter wanted to, he wouldn't. Enough of himself had been lost, erased by Strange, furthered by his tumble through worlds. Hadn't Peter Parker sacrificed enough of his humanity? He couldn't — no, wouldn't — let go of what was left.
Evolve! the thing insisted, pitch rising with indecipherable urgency. The web dipped lower, the thing that might have been Shelob, might have been something else, creeping closer.
"Leave me alone!" Peter snarled back.
The web shivered violently. Peter in his mummified bundle swung sickeningly from side to side as he struggled ever harder to break free. The vibrations along the web increased and then there were — things. Thing skittering down his legs, swarming him over his swaddling. Horror swelled bitter on the back of his throat. He twitched and spasmed, trying to dislodge the swarm. Imagined tiny teeth breaking into the silk, biting into him, sinking fangs deep into his unprotected flesh—
Death by a million spider bites, he'd joked to Duke a few days ago. His throat closed off with revulsion now at the thought of it.
"Stop!" he begged the beast above, still sinking heavy on the web. "Please!"
The dark world trembled.
Evolve — OR DIE!The words roared with a million voices and Peter screamed back, tearing through the web, through his dream and the — the bedsheets? Arms flailing, Peter fell with an anguished shout and startled onto the threadbare rug under his bed.
"Peter!"
He flinched at the sound that hit like a physical thing. Sobbed with horror. There were still things crawling over him. Eight-legged things crawling under his pyjama legs and he slapped and swatted at them desperately. Get rid of them. Had to get rid of them. Squash them kill them don't let them bi—
"Pete! There's nothing there!"
Another flinch. But the voice was right. Nothing there.
Still Peter raked his blunt fingernails up his shins, trying to replace the phantom sensations already fading into nothing.
He looked up, finally, to see Jason standing taut in his bedroom doorway and backlit by the living room lights. Must've turned them on — they'd both gone to sleep at the same time, for once. It'd been a quiet night out on patrol.
Peter swallowed, heart racing with residual fear. Even so, he took stock of where Jason stood, upon the threshold of Peter's bedroom, just as they'd promised each other after Peter's first spectacular nightmare. Scarred hands gripped white-knuckled at the architraves, like they were the only things keeping Jason up.
"Jace," Peter breathed, still scratching, still trying to replace the skittering feeling with something else, something close to pain.
Jason finally stepped foot in Peter's bedroom. He crouched before Peter and gripped his arms to stop him scratching. His hands were so large they wrapped easily around Peter's wrists. His touch was firm but tender, sure enough that it convinced Peter's addled brain that breaking free would be a struggle.
"Enough," Jason murmured. "Do it any more and you'll start bleeding."
The lights from the living room cast half Jason's face in shadows and caught on the rims of his blue eyes, half-shuttered with an understanding Peter could barely tolerate. It hurt, to be seen. To be acknowledged. To be known. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his closing throat.
Jason sighed and adjusted his grip. "C'mon, let's get off the floor. 'S'cold."
Peter tried to do it on his own, but he felt strangely weak. In the end Jason did most of the work, hauling Peter up with a faint grunt of exertion and a soft exhale as they flopped onto the edge of the mattress.
Jason's gaze was searching, darting across Peter's face in the hunt for answers. "You wanna talk about it?"
"No," the word escaped as more an unvoiced puff of air than true speech. Jason didn't look surprised.
"Look… shit happens," he said, and Peter couldn't help but laugh weakly.
High-pitched whining sounded. Peter hunted for the source. Dog. Dog sat waiting a few feet from his door. Tension threaded through her, still stuck in Jason's stay command.
"Could barely keep her back," Jason admitted ruefully. "She okay to come in?"
A nod from Peter, a cancelled command from Jason, and Dog launched herself into the room, jumping nimbly onto the bed to paw and nose at Peter in concern. He fell into Jason with her, who barely kept them all upright and only with a short grumble of complaint. Jason was warm against Peter's back, one of his long arms wrapped around Peter's waist to support him while Peter attempted to fend off Dog's licking at his face. Eventually, she settled enough to drop over both their laps.
Peter petted her big head with trembling hands that steadied as time passed. His breathing fell in line with Jason's, slow and deep, calm as the horrors of his dream dispersed like smoke on the wind.
"You okay?" Jason asked eventually. Peter thought he sounded regretful to have broken the quiet.
"Yeah," Peter sighed, grateful Jason was smart enough not to ask about the dream again. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
By the blessed Onyxmistkes 😭😭
He sagged into Jason. The way they'd ended up, Jason's chin slotted easily over the top of Peter's head. Afraid to return to that strange dark place, Peter kept his eyes open and tilted his head to the side, ear pressed lightly against Jason's collarbone. The strong and steady thrum of Jason's heartbeat pulsed in Peter's ear, comforting in its assuredness.
He envied Jason, who always seemed like he could handle anything life threw at him. Peter had thought himself resilient, but it paled to sheer stubbornness in comparison to Jason. The man who'd got the far crueller end of the stick, but still showed compassion for others, even with the blood that stained his hands.
Comforted and humbled in equal measure, Peter stared past the downwards arc of Jason's shoulder. Outside his window, the first traces of dawn haloed the neighbouring buildings. The night had been clear and icy, the temperatures dipping quickly without Gotham's usual blanketing of clouds to trap in the insipid warmth of day.
A bug — a wasp or a hornet, he thought — ambled lazily over the glass, cleaning its antennae as it readied for the day ahead. A day of hunting…
Peter glanced away, back to the dim confines of his bedroom. Dog looked grey in the half-dark, but her ears were as silky smooth as they ever were. Jason was a calm presence behind him, steadfast in a way Peter hadn't felt about anyone in a very long time.
Evolve or die, his ass. There was no need to squander the humanity he had left.
If he had to, Peter would fight for things to stay as they were until his dying breath.
— + —
Sitting in his favoured position — upside down on the couch — Peter stared at his cell phone as if it might spontaneously combust in his hands. He stared for so long the screen timed out and with a huff, Peter unlocked the phone again.
"It won't change unless you make it, Parker," he told himself.
"What was that?" Jason asked, looking up from his book. Much like Peter, he sat slouched in his armchair, though unlike Peter, Jason was sitting the right way up.
"Nothing. Just… egging myself on, I guess."
"Hmm." Jason turned the page. "Well, just keep in mind what you did to the last batch of eggs."
It took a moment for Peter to understand what he meant. When at last he did, he contemplated hurling a punishment pillow at him. Peter would appreciate if he didn't have his culinary disasters thrown so casually in his face thank-you very much. Jason hadn't even been looking at him.
But… even with that faint, sly smile on his stupid face, Jason looked content. Content enough for Peter to be merciful. He even kept such thoughts to himself. Boy, he was in a magnanimous mood today! And it had nothing to do with the kindness Jason had shown him that morning after Peter's nightmare. No sir.
His attention returned to the phone. Despite the offer having been made almost three weeks ago, Peter hadn't thought much about it. Why would he, when he wasn't sure how long he'd be stuck on Earth G for? What was the point of half doing something, when he'd might get torn away from it at a moment's notice? Been there, done that. No thank-you. Peter was much happier shoving all thoughts of settling anything aside.
Well. Not happier. But more content.
Well. Not content, either. But…
Okay. So he'd felt like shit about not being about to set down roots. So what? It wasn't like that was anything new! Hello further reasons for angsting over my life! I'll just add you to the pile, shall I? It's getting large enough now that it must be close to composting itself. Maybe it'll set itself on fire again, wouldn't that be fun?
Constantine's diagnosis — that Peter was stuck here unless he wanted to live the rest of his life waiting to fall through universes again — sucked ass. But it was better than living with the uncertainty. Better to just know. That way at least, Peter knew it was safe enough to suck it up and move on. Try to make something of this dumpster fire city.
He unlocked the phone again and pulled up the messenger app.
Duke Thomas
Today 4:26 PM
Hey, were you still up for that tutoring job? 💸📚
OMG YES 👌🏾are you free Sat I'm desperate for an excuse not to do school work 😩☠️
4:28 AM
— + —
Call him eager, but Peter was standing ready at the door the moment Duke texted he was coming up the stairs. Dog sat beside him, tail wagging; she obviously thought it was time for a walk, since Peter was loitering about the front door. Bad news for her: they wouldn't be leaving the apartment for at least four hours unless Jason came home early from his adventures as Park Row's favourite landlord.
Peter was still torn as to how to feel about that discovery. Coming from a family of renters, he'd experienced a healthy share of shitty landlords. Sure, the adults of his childhood had attempted to shield him from most of those experiences, but Peter would never forget that heated argument between his aunt — May — and Mr Morrison three weeks after Ben's death. Not an ounce of sympathy had that man showed them. Down to one income and facing a rent hike, there'd been a time where Peter feared Mr Morrison would evict them. Instead, May sold their car and got a job closer to their apartment, working longer hours to make up for the loss of income. Even then, he knew they were barely scraping by. It made the increased appetite after the bite all the harder to stomach.
(Of course, then Peter and May got dusted and they lost the apartment anyway. Thank God for Mr Stark swooping in before Mr Morrison tried to sell their alltheir belongings.)
And don't even get Peter started on the dump one could optimistically call an apartment that he'd secured for himself after the Erasure. Mr Demille wasn't quite a slum landlord, but he definitely enjoyed toeing the line.
To think Jason technically fell in the same category as those men… Peter was uncomfortable… Embarrassingly, Jason's landlord status made Peter just as uncomfy as the blood on his hands (which definitely said something about his priorities but which Peter was equally unwilling to listen to just yet)… Sure he understood Jason's reasoning, but past experience had Peter struggling not to tar Jason with the same brush.
At least Jason seemed to care about the upkeep of the buildings. Besides the lift, their block was in pretty good shape. And two days after the cookout, work suddenly began happening to replace the lift that was determined to spend more of its days broken than functional. A replacement was scheduled for installation next week.
Red Hood and Co. — sorry, Colorado Asset Management — moved fast when they wanted to.
Peter's sensitive hearing picked up Duke's breathing — a little heavy from the climb up six flights of stairs, but also not too bad for having to climb six flights of stairs. He ordered Dog to stay while he opened the door, just in time to see Duke's head emerge.
"Sup?" Duke said, noticing Peter.
"Hey."
Duke reached the top step and breathed out slowly. The flush of exertion darkened his cheeks and a faint sheen of sweat gathered on his brow. He was carrying a backpack packed full of books that he immediately took off his back and would have dropped had Peter not lunged to catch it.
"If I'd known the damn lift wasn't working, I'd've made you come down to get that," Duke grumbled in lieu of a thanks. Peter rolled his eyes.
"Call it the curiosity tax."
"Curiosity tax?"
"For letting you come to the apartment." Peter tilted his head in challenge. "I know you guys are desperate to see how the other side lives."
Duke chuckled breathlessly as he went inside, followed by Peter who locked the door behind them.
"You got me. Jason's the family cryptid, y'know? He comes and goes as he pleases without bothering to tell anyone he's back in town. We gotta work it out for ourselves."
"Sound more like a stray to me."
"Maybe," Duke admitted. Despite his comments, rather than immediately investigate the apartment he'd knelt to properly greet Dog, who was delighted by the fuss.
The backpack was dropped with a solid thump on the table, rattling the glasses Peter had pre-emptively set out for them and sending a couple of pretzels jumping out of the trail mix bowl. He'd always liked it for studying, since it was easy to snack from one-handed, even if the raisins were annoying to pick out.
"Any preferences on drinks?" he asked. Duke finally tore his attentions away from Dog, only to be licked in the face in retaliation.
"Hey girl, I know I'm irresistible but chill." He turned back to Peter. "Whatever's cool. Just not Zesti. That shit's rank."
Peter snickered and filled their glasses with juice. He suspected Duke's opinion was a deliberate point of contention between him and Tim.
"Thanks again for making the time."
"Not a problem." Duke straightened, much to Dog's disappointment. She trailed after him as he began the expected inspection of the apartment, immediately zeroing in on the bookshelves.
For once, the move didn't fill Peter with anxiety: now that he knew who the Waynes (and adjacent) were, he was far less concerned about them opening up a random book to find something fun like a mag full of rubber bullets or a garrotte.
"Remember how I said school wasn't whoopin' my ass? Well, my hubris has been my undoing."
Peter worried his lip uncertainly. "Are you sure—?"
"Naw, man." Duke waved Peter's concerns away with a dismissive hand. "Like I said: at this point I'll take any excuse to step back for a bit."
"Sure. But we could postpone? It's not—"
"Pete," Duke rounded on Peter with an uncharacteristically serious expression on his genial face. "Chill. I, unlike some of those idiots, know my limits. It's fine. Besides, holiday's will be here soon enough."
Peter frowned, then realised why. "Thanksgiving. Right."
"You guys doing anything for it?"
Duke's tone was deliberately light as he turned back to the bookshelves. Peter remembered Jason's distaste when Mr Wayne had mentioned the holiday season.
"No. Jason's not a fan and I'm… ambivalent. We're going to just have a quiet night in. Or out."
Duke shot him a knowing look. "There's plenty of space for the two of you, if you change your mind."
If Mr Wayne was going to be there, then Peter already knew Jason's answer was going to be a resounding, Hell. No. Peter's smile was banal, and Duke took it as the rejection it was meant to be. He turned back to the bookshelves, plucking out titles seemingly at random.
"You think Jay'd mind if I borrowed some of these?"
"So long as he's read it himself." Peter shrugged and put the juice back in the fridge. "He'll get in a strop if you spoil it for him."
"Know that the hard way, do you?"
Peter grinned broadly. So, he might have spoiled the ending of a novel that was almost a decade old to Peter! He still didn't think it merited the silent treatment Jason gave him for the rest of the day, or the cold in the middle 'reheated' leftovers for dinner the next day.
Duke laughed and set his small pile of books down on the coffee table by the TV. "I'll check with him when he gets back."
"He should be back in time to give Dog her W-A-L-K. You can come too, if you wanted." Peter nodded to the hefty backpack. "So, are you ready for the tutoring job of your life?"
"I'm ready to commit daylight robbery on you, hell yeah."
Peter rolled his eyes. "Twenty bucks is an undersell and you know it."
"I absolutely don't know it. And I'd like to note, of the two of us, who's been pseudo-adopted by a billionaire?"
"… Steph?"
Duke narrowed his eyes. "You think you're funny, but you ain't. Me. It's me. And you can bet your ass I'm gonna make it my life's work to drain those coffers dry. Now siddown, Parker. I've got a practice test for you to do so I can see exactly what kinda hopeless case I'm working with."
Peter sat, but he was grinning as he did so. For once, he was actually looking forward to a test.
Absolute freak, MJ would have said to him, Ned nodding sagely to the side. Peter grabbed a pen from Duke's offered pencil case and got started, the ghosts of his friend and girlfriend watching with fond eyes at his back.
— + —
"Jason Todd, how on Wonder Woman's green earth is your man so bad at history?"
"I resent that comment."
"And yet, it's true. You are — and I say this with all the academic spite in my heart — diabolical, Parker."
Jason stood in the doorway, keys still hanging in the keyhole. Somehow, in the five hours he'd been gone, his neat living space had slipped into the kind of chaos that was usually reserved to Peter's bedroom. Textbooks and papers were strewn across the dining table and the floor, empty glasses and mugs lined the kitchen counter, and Peter's least favourite parts of any trail mix — the raisins — lay about the tabletop like the dead flies Peter likened them to.
The criminal in question was sat at the table, though he'd spread across two chairs, feet on one, swinging back on two legs with the other.
"Fix your seat," Jason said, feeling like a teacher. "They ain't that sturdy."
Peter glared but settled the chair back on four legs. "They're not that weak, either."
"Cheeky." Jason crossed the room and kissed the top of Peter's head in greeting. Peter patted his cheek in return. "Horrifying the locals, eh?"
Peter grinned up at him, eyes crinkling warmly. "You know it's my favourite thing to do."
"Yeah, hi, hello? Still here?" Duke snarked. He was lying on his front on the rug by the couch, Dog pressed to his side and one of Jason's books in his hands. Jason squinted suspiciously at the title, only to relax when he recognised it.
"The Buried Giant. Good choice. You read any of his other stuff?"
"Never Let Me Go, but that's a given. My lit teacher was adamant we read it."
Jason nodded. Duke put in a slip of paper to mark his place and set the novel down. He stood up, pointing irately at Peter.
"That man is a menace, Todd. A genuine maniac."
Jason looked down at Peter again, amused. "You have been working hard."
"I did live in a prepper's cult," Peter said, turning to shoot Duke an exaggerated pout.
"Nu-uh, that excuse don't fly with me." Duke swung his pointing finger on Jason. "I don't understand how he can be so good at science and maths but know fuck all about the social sciences! I swear to God, it was like he was deliberately putting in the wrong answers!"
"That so."
Peter blinked up at Jason innocently. Discarded on the other side of the table and covered in increasingly irate red markings, was a test paper that Duke must've printed out and brought along. Jason tugged it across and skimmed over the first two pages.
"You got the question on communism right."
"Proletariats of all countries, unite!"
Peter squawked as Jason ruffled his too-long hair. Any longer and the girls'd start braiding it for him, Jason was sure. Hand still resting on Peter's head, he returned his attention to the test paper and ignored Duke's not-so-subtle photography.
Comic strip by chai_latt3 😍😍☠️
Immediately, Jason saw the problem. On the questions based on extracts or graphs, Peter did fine — great, actually. But on any section that relied upon even the most rudimentary knowledge of modern history, Peter's marks swung drastically in the opposite direction. By the third page, Duke had thrown in the towel, halfway through a question on the economic impact of the Justice League on global defence policies.
Jason glanced back at Peter with a quirked brow. "You called the JL the Avengers on at least two different occasions."
"I swear that's what they were called," Peter said oh-so-innocently. Jason rolled his eyes and dropped the paper back onto the table. "Avenging is the same as justice, anyway."
"It's nothing like justice!" Duke cried out. This seemed to have been a well-used argument. How many times had the two of them gone over it while Jason was gone? No wonder those red marks got so violent.
"Well at least you'll get your money's worth out of him," Jason told Duke.
The young man groaned. "It feels a bit like stealing from a baby. He's hopeless."
"He's not that bad," Jason said, frowning defensively. "Actually, he did pretty good on a good number of them."
"Not enough to pass!" Duke jumped up off the floor, startling Dog, who startled again to finally notice Jason had returned, the lazy lump. "And don't even get me started on the language arts!"
Jason's frown deepened. When he looked back at Peter, the young man was sheepish.
"I didn't expect you to badly on that kinda stuff."
"Well, he did!" Duke crossed the room and tugged out a paper from underneath a science study guide that looked as though it'd never even been opened. "We already did it once. I couldn't bear to mark a second one from him."
The paper was thrust at Jason and he took it before Duke could drop it with disgust.
"I think I did better on that one," Peter said, miffed.
"You only think that because you've never heard of the Dunning-Kruger effect."
"Rude. I know everything there is to know about the Dunning-Kruger effect!"
"You are proving my point exactly!"[2]
Jason tuned out their mostly harmless bickering and started going through Peter's paper. Eventually he sat at the table, nicking the red pen discarded by the ravaged bowl of trail mix, and started ticking and crossing accordingly. He kept note as he went, thinking of what they'd have to focus Peter's future studies on to fill in the gaps between his world and Jason's.
Only as Jason reached the last page did he realise the apartment had fallen very quiet. He glanced up from the paper to see Peter reading through a social studies textbook and Duke slouched on the couch with his stolen literature.
Perfectly innocent. Except for the fact that both had immediately looked down at their books when Jason realised how quiet things got.
He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Set the test paper down. "What?"
Tellingly, Peter's eyes darted up at him instantly, then back to his study guide.
"Pete." Jason nudged Peter's chair with his foot when he was ignored. "Peter. Petey-Pie."
Peter dropped his textbook onto his chest. "Jace? There a problem?"
"What is it."
"What is what?" Peter glanced over to Duke, who was doing a very poor imitation of reading. "Duke? You have any idea what it is?"
"Oh no, Peter. I've no idea what it is. Although perhaps…" Duke's face scrunched up as he pretended to think hard about the conundrum. "Maybe it's got to do with the other loser in this apartment without a high school diploma marking your paper like it was nothing?"
Jason froze. A trap. This was a trap and he'd walked straight into it.
He glanced down at Peter's paper. Sure enough, Jason had ticked or circled the correct answers. He'd even started adding comments to Peter's essay…
The ruse was masterfully done. Jason never even realised he'd been had until it was too late. And the worst part was, he couldn't even be sure if this was Peter or Duke's doing. Or worse: both.
"I know what you're trying to get at," he said, rather than try and act like he was anything other than begrudgingly impressed, "and I'm telling you now, I don't think it's a good idea."
"What? For you to stop being the last of the Wayne high school dropouts?" Duke asked. Except for the faintest of tightening around the eyes, Peter's expression was carefully neutral, to the point that Jason suspected he actually wanted to butt in and say something snarky.
"I'll give you some leeway, Narrows," Jason said evenly, "since you're new to the family and all—"
"New-ish—"
"But if you'll recall, I spent the golden years of my high school career dead, comatose or catatonic. Not a lotta studying opportunities sent my way."
Peter's neutral expression cracked in two and Jason held back a wince to see it. He nudged Peter's chair again to grab his attention and offered a smile. Peter sent him a shaky, somewhat apologetic one back.
Duke, who knew nothing of Peter's own history with death, was unrepentant and Jason chose not to hold it against him.
"Doesn't excuse the years since. You've had plenty of time after your prodigal return to take it."
"I can't just — take my GEDs—"
"Why not?" Peter tilted his head at Jason as if he'd asked a reasonable question. "You re-alived yourself last time you were in Gotham. Duke told me so. There was a whole bunch of articles about it."
Jason shot Duke a fierce glare. "You disappoint me. You're as bad a gossip as the rest of them, Thomas."
Peter's expression turned sly. "I thought he did you a favour, actually. You looked very dashing in that suit."
Even if Jason agreed with Peter, he nearly fumbled at the compliment. He cleared his throat and held off on the sudden desire to shield himself from Peter's assessing stare. He latched back on to the point at hand.
"That's entirely my case, though. If the press learnt that Bruce Wayne's ex-dead son was sitting his GEDs they'd make a whole song and dance outta it."
"Tim managed to get it done under the radar," Duke pointed out. "You're telling me you're not capable of keeping it on the down low?"
"I can see you're trying to manipulate me," Jason warned. "It ain't gonna work twice. And anyway, I don't see the point — it's not like I'll ever be able to work like a normal person. Not as Jason Todd. In which case, what's it even matter?"
Jason's clenched fist was taken by Peter over the table and he watched as Peter ran his thumb over the mountain range of his knuckles. The breath punched out of him at the tender gesture and he stared at Peter helplessly.
Silence stretched between them until Peter broke it. "Hey, Duke?"
"Yeah?"
"You mind taking Dog for her walk? We'll catch up." Peter didn't even turn to look at the other man. Just kept his eyes on Jason as if he was worried Jason might take a leaf out of Peter's book and go jumping out the window and start running.
"… Sure."
To his credit, Duke took little time to scarper, Dog jauntily dragging him out of the apartment like the sweet traitor she was. Then it was just Jason and Peter left in the quiet. An absurd feeling struck him then, as though they were parents being allowed a moment of peace after a relative took the kids away. A silly thought — nonsensically domestic — and it had Jason tensing up all over again.
Fuck, what was he even doing? This wasn't… this wasn't him. This wasn't for him!
Jason's eyes darted over the table, covered in study materials; to his shelves, filling up with books faster than he'd originally anticipated; to the dog bed under the window by the couch; to the lumpy quilt Mrs Peng passed on to him just two days before; to the washed dishes stacked by the sink that Peter refused to dry himself. The breath stuttered in his chest, panic rising. This wasn't Jason's life! He wasn't allowed to just—
"Jason… where do you see yourself in five years?"
The soft question sliced through his panic with surgical precision. "I — what?"
"Five years from now," Peter repeated, "where do you think you'll be?"
Damn him, but Peter's gaze was knowing. Jason resented it, the feeling hot and fierce. He wanted suddenly to snap out something vicious and cutting — and then Peter squeezed his fist again. Ran his thumb back over the ridge of Jason's knuckles, roughened and scarred by a life of violence. The fight died as suddenly as it came.
Still, he couldn't give Peter an answer, because there was no answer to give. Where did he think he'd be five years from now? Fuck knew. Alive… probably. In Gotham, unless he did something to get himself chased out like vermin again. Beyond that… there was little more than a big, fat void that existed in Jason's future. He'd learnt to work around it. Stick to the peripherals of that nothingness. Claw back control with desires for some nebulous future that he was a part of by virtue of having enabled its existence.
But where Jason stood at that point? What he'd be doing? Who he'd become? That was as uncertain to Jason as his family's tolerance of the black sheep in their lives.
Peter's mouth twitched, meaning opaque. His eyes dropped back to their joined hands.
"You know…" Peter started carefully as his thumb continued to follow the rise and fall of Jason's knuckles. "I really liked school. Sure, there were things that sucked, and it was hard, balancing Spider-Man with the rest. But I was looking forward to graduating, you know? I was excited to go off to college. Make something of myself out of the suit. I wasn't even deterred by having to re-do my junior year, even though we got dusted in May. And then… then there was Mysterio… and then there was the Erasure. The rug I thought was secured to the ground was yanked out and suddenly all of that — graduating, going to college — it just — disappeared."
Peter's smile, still directed at the table, was rueful. "I could've just faked my diploma. It wouldn't have been any harder than trying to rebuild the rest of my identity but… I wanted to do things right. It was one of the few things left. So, I waited for my birthday… it was only four months away, officially. I'd hoped to get a scholarship or something. A long shot, I know, but it still felt like I might manage it. And then—"
He laughed shakily and scrubbed at his eye with the heel of his palm, the one not touching Jason. "Then I ended up here. Fine, I figured. When I get back. Only I can't do that, can I?"
Jason flipped over his hand, entwining his with Peter's. Again, he was taken by Peter's slender fingers and the strength hidden in each of them.
"If… If I'm here for good," Peter said slowly. Jason's breath caught at the admission. "Then I want to do it right. It's why I finally called Duke. I want to go back to school, Jace. I want it, so bad. And I think…." Peter shifted in his seat, as if he was steeling himself. Then his gaze shot back up at Jason, daring him to disagree. "I think you want it too."
"Peter…"
"I won't say you have to!" The words rushed out of Peter's mouth, cutting Jason off — not that Jason even knew what he would have said, really. "It's your life. And maybe I'm wrong. But… you should think about it." Soft, sardonic laughter accompanied the ironic look Peter sent him. "After all, if we're going to hit retirement age, we're going to need something to pass the time."
Retirement… the idea was as fanciful as it'd been four nights ago on that rooftop. So nonsensical Jason barely thought about it… except in the quiet stillness of his bedroom before he went to sleep. It was a torment of impossibilities, vivid scenes as grotesque and fantastical to an adult Jason Todd as they must have been to the teen James Gatz, haunted in his bed by waking dreams of grandeur.
Jason studied Peter and Peter returned it. His resolute gaze was a far cry from the Peter of even a week ago. Constantine's visit must have changed things at a fundamental level for Peter. Sure, Peter still kept most of his cards close to his chest, but no longer did Jason feel like he had to pry the answers out of him with subtleties and deception. And then there'd be times like now, where Peter flayed himself open and confessed to truths Jason had only been able to guess at. When he'd reach out to Jason like he thought he was entitled to Jason's regard.
It was as if knowing he was here to stay meant Peter felt he could finally set down roots.
Jason was grateful Peter had decided this apartment was fertile ground.
… Turnabout was fair play, right?
"I loved school," Jason confessed, so quiet he wasn't sure Peter would have heard, were it not for those strong fingers squeezing at Jason's hand in encouragement. The words felt like razors in his throat, but he wanted it out. He wanted the truth excised. "I loved it, I did. I-I hated not being able to go and was so fucking grateful when Bruce sent me back. But when I came back… it was just one other thing that didn't matter anymore. In truth, I've — I couldn't even say when the last time was I thought of going back."
What even was the point? That wasn't Jason's future.
But what was his future? What was Jason Todd even allowed to claim for himself?
"You should. Think about it, I mean." Peter's eyes crinkled as wry laughter escaped him. "Unless you've ambitions to live as a deadbeat landlord the rest of your life."
"Hey!" Jason chuckled despite everything. "There's nothin' deadbeat about me!"
The wryness settled into something infinitely more fond and painful to behold. "Yeah, I know."
Both of them looked away. Peter abruptly cleared his throat.
"I'm — going to go catch up to Duke. Hopefully he's not been dragged into something… Did you want to join?"
Jason thought about it, but in the end shook his head. His skin felt raw, stripped of all defences. He needed time to rebuild them. Think, maybe, as Peter had suggested.
"Okay… You still good with Duke staying for dinner? I can tell him to go home if you needed."
"No… no. He can stay. There's enough food for three, even with your appetite."
"Thanks, Jace." Peter's grin lightened. Something twisted up in Jason's chest that he immediately chose to ignore. "I'll get us something for dessert."
The chair scraped as Peter stood and Jason flexed his fingers when Peter's hand slipped from his grip. Peter paused beside him. Rested a hesitant hand on Jason's head and carded it lightly through his hair. Without permission, Jason's eyes slipped shut.
"You know…" Peter said hesitantly. "Our stories didn't end when we died…. They were just… put on hiatus."
With those words, Peter walked away, pausing by the door to put his shoes and coat on. Then he was slipping out to leave Jason alone in the apartment.
He breathed out shakily. Reached for the discarded science study guide but could do nothing more than rest his hand on the glossy cover. Ashamed of himself, Jason hung his head.
Fuck… Jason wanted a goddamn cigarette.
[1] For any unversed in Lord of the Rings, Shellob is a enormous evil spider that Appears in The Two Towers, book 2 Ch9: "evil thing in spider-form...[the] last child of Ungoliant to trouble the unhappy world… But still she was there, who was there before Sauron, and before the first stone of Barad-dûr; and she served none but herself, drinking the blood of Elves and Men, bloated and grown fat with endless brooding on her feasts, weaving webs of shadow; for all living things were her food, and her vomit darkness."
[2]At the risk of having to explain the joke... "The Dunning-Kruger effect occurs when a person's lack of knowledge and skill in a certain area causes them to overestimate their own competence. By contrast, this effect also drives those who excel in a given area to think the task is simple for everyone, leading them to underestimate their abilities." From The Decision Lab.
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