Chapter Text
Logistically, constructing an identity for himself seemed to go a lot easier the second time around. New universe or not, most of the processes were similar to his own world, and this time, Peter had the Frankensteined remains of Karen to help him.
Weeks after the Erasure, in a fit of manic grief and loneliness, Peter had salvaged as much of Karen’s coding as he could: she’d more or less disappeared after the doxxing and Stark Industries severing the connection between Karen’s servers and his suit. He’d cobbled together what he could and hooked her up to his phone, but she was nothing like she’d once been. In fact, there was barely anything of her left, and certainly not enough for her to become the artificial companion he’d hoped for. But she was advanced enough to help slip his way into government websites without bringing attention to himself and forging new documents.
Birth certificate, social security… and then all the same for his ‘parents’. He half-heartedly forged a medical and high school history — no school results though. Those, Peter wanted to earn the legit way. And if he was here for longer, he’d start backdating a social media presence.
Gotham was the perfect place for forging a new identity, at least. Too many instances over the years of records being destroyed by rogues or other disasters. With Karen’s help, re-making Peter Parker and Co. was a walk in the park.
But mentally? It was anything but.
The work filled him with dread… it felt like he was settling in for the long haul. It felt a little like resignation, even if it was just the practical choice. Jason had warned him that his ‘contact’ was likely to take their time getting back to him, even if he was good at what he did.
And… Peter couldn’t help but feel resentful as he went through all the same steps as before. Wasn’t once enough? Why did he have to be put in a position where rebuilding his identity felt routine? If he’d been better — less clumsy — he never would have fallen through that freaky portal in the first place. Idiot—
He abandoned the laptop before he could spiral into more self-recrimination. From experience, if Peter got too worked up, he’d end up doing something regrettable like destroying his new second-hand computer by accident.
So Peter fled to the living room. Jason was nowhere to be seen, but he didn’t think the man had left yet. Some of the sorted books had been stacked on the bookshelves, but the rest of the job had been abandoned as before. Dog lounged on her bed by the windows, stretched out to catch the last scrap of sun before it sunk too low in the sky. She acknowledged his entrance with a lazy tail wag, but otherwise ignored him.
Finishing off the first job he’d started seemed like a good idea. Even if Jason said he’d do it himself, Peter thought the menial task would use up just enough brain power to keep the flagellation at bay. He threw himself into the job, working through the non-fiction pile first and finding amusem*nt at the broad range of topics Jason was interested in.
He was just lining up three books on the flora and fauna of North America when Jason emerged from his bedroom in a leather jacket and hoodie. Peter didn’t think the September weather merited the layers, but who was he to judge? Even the slighted summer breeze had him shivering these days.
Jason paused as he shut the door to his bedroom. “Peter?”
“Yeah?”
“You know the lights work, right?”
Oh. He hadn’t even realised how dim it had become. With the sun too low to reach the windows, the apartment had rapidly gone dark. A normal person would have fixed that by now…
Jason flicked the switch between their rooms and the space was bathed in warm light. Peter set the books he was still holding down and went to close the blinds. Even if the apartment was in something of a blind spot with the other buildings, he didn’t like the feeling of exposure. He blamed it on the doxxing; Peter had never been able to shake the paranoia of being watched since the day he’d looked out his living room windows to see a helicopter looking right back in.
“You’re heading out?” Peter asked. He hovered awkwardly beside the shelves, unsure of what to do with himself.
“Yeah. No funny business while I’m gone.”
The wry comment helped Peter find his footing again. “Funny business while you’re gone. Got it…” He plucked Jason’s copy of The Communist Manifesto from its new place on the shelf. “Does overthrowing the tyranny of capitalism count?”
“Depends. What system are you replacing it with?”
Peter grinned provocatively. It didn’t seem to fit properly on his face, but it was better than nothing. “Feudalism. I’m planning on installing Dog as our benevolent overlord.”
“Bad move. She doesn’t know sh*t about land tenure.”
“That’s fine! Neither do I!”
Jason shook his head, chuckling softly. “Alright. Well, if someone comes in, assume they’re here to rob you and gouge their eyes out.”
“Messy. Ew.”
“But effective. That or go for the balls.”
“Misogynistic! They could be a woman.”
“Still hurts.” Jason pointed a finger at Peter. “Just—don’t leave the place. And don’t go answering the door.”
A soft huff of laughter escaped him. The warnings reminded him of the few times he’d been left home alone as a child. When he’d been too sick for school, but his aunt or Ben couldn’t take the day off work. “Are you gonna use a special knock? What about a codeword? So I know it’s you?”
Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m saying goodbye now.”
“Bye! Hope your family’s not really a gang!”
Jason’s muttered, “You’d be surprised,” probably wasn’t meant to be heard by Peter. Oh well. “Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be back late. See ya.”
“Have fu-un!”
Honestly, it was doubtful Peter would manage to stay up that long anyway. It had been a long and distressing day, following on from a night of unsettled and fragmented sleep. Not that Peter had slept well for months, but he hoped he’d manage better on that mattress Jason had dumped in his room.
Jason left with a wave of his hand. Peter heard the door lock and then he was left alone — well, except for Dog — in the apartment of a stranger. He swallowed. Told himself he was staying there because it was practical. Then went to carry on sorting out the books when he caught a whiff of himself.
Ew. It had been nearly two full days since he’d last showered and he smelled it. A wonder Jason hadn’t made a pointed comment about the shower. Peter abandoned the bookshelves, suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to just get clean.
Jason’s apartment only had the one bathroom, positioned between the two bedrooms. Despite the building’s general decrepitude, the bathroom was clean and surprisingly spacious — though the khaki tiles were dated and there were a few patches on the ceiling where the paint was peeling from prolonged exposure to moisture.
The shower pressure however, was excellent, and Peter set the temperature to near scalding. He hissed and jumped in and out until he acclimatised, skin pinking rapidly with the heat. Water sluiced over his face, tickling his lips, when he submerged his head beneath the spray.
His gaze trailed down to the drain and he imagined the trauma of the last two days trickling away…
… Washing away any trace of his universe…
… The dust and grime of his world…
… The remnants of his hair wax, the jar still sitting by the bathroom sink in his own apartment…
All of it, washed down the drain…
Not even his body was his anymore. It felt like all that was left of Peter Parker were his memories and a headless Spider-Man suit—
The sob that tore out of his chest was deafening over the sputtering rattle of the extraction fan. It echoed off the hard tiles and bounced around inside his skull.
No Ned. No MJ. No Queens or Doctor Strange or Mr Delmar, who still made Peter’s sandwich just how he liked it, even though he didn’t know who Peter was anymore. No apartment, no pictures of Ben or his aunt and a figure scrubbed from existence. No camera that Ben had bought for Peter six months before he’d died.
All of it. Stripped from him.
Peter collapsed into a tumble of naked limbs onto the ugly green tiles. The water drummed onto his curled back as he wept — great, grotesque sounds he was glad Jason wasn’t around to hear. The hollowness in his chest had sharpened into something gnawing and hungry and Peter was certain it would swallow him whole. At its edges, pain blazed bright and hot and it fuelled the tears that he couldn’t even tell were tears or water. Both burned in searing rivulets down his face.
He missed his aunt. He missed MJ and Ned. He just wanted to hear their voices, speaking to him, acknowledging him, just one more time.
Peter’s breaths were awful, choking things, his throat closing up with grief and catching on inhaled water. But there was no way he was going to find the fortitude of mind to turn off the shower any time soon. So he sat curled up on the tiles and he wept.
— + —
He thought he might cry forever, but… eventually the sobbing fit faded.
The world returned to him slowly. Somehow, the water was still running hot — a miracle that Jason probably was the cause of — and the bathroom was cloaked in a thick cloud of steam. There was no way of telling how long he’d been in there for. His fingers had gone pruney even before he’d had his breakdown.
“Get it together, Parker,” he whispered, and pinched the soft skin of his neck, hard enough to bruise. Tired as he was, Peter barely registered the pain. His limbs were jelly, and he had to haul himself up with his sticky hands. Face planted directly beneath the shower head, he blindly finished cleaning himself, feeling a little more human with the catharsis over and done with.
A grim acceptance had settled over Peter. He was stuck here — at least until he could find a way to get back. Find himself a magic user or build himself a jumper. If Mr Stark could create time travel, Peter could totally make a multiverse transporter.
Totally…
He’d get home…
He had to.
Resolved, Peter shut off the water. He took his time drying himself and getting dressed, only to realise he’d left his fresh clothes in his room. There’d been no pyjamas in the hoard of clothing Jason had dumped on him, but he’d picked out a soft, baggy tee and a pair of running shorts that would do for sleepwear.
Sometime around that realisation, Peter suspected he lost time again, slouched on top of the toilet — lid down — and attempting to process the tangle of feelings with a butterfly hug… There was a throbbing at his collarbone that suggest he might have pinched himself again… He could only be sure of time having passed by his hair. When he came back, it had shifted from sopping wet to a slow drip of cold water down his shoulders and back. Some of the steam had dissipated too — that extraction fan worked like the little engine that could — but the mirror was still covered with thick condensation.
Scrubbing his hair with a second towel, Peter spilled out of the bathroom chased by a cloud of steam.
He froze as he saw that Jason was already back and was rummaging around in the fridge while Dog poked at his thigh insistently.
“Jason?” Peter asked, suddenly nervous. sh*t. Had he heard him crying? Probably not, right? “You’re back earlier than—”
Jason turned around.
Peter’s stomach swooped with fear.
“You’re not Jason.”
The mistake was easy to make from behind: the man was a similar height — a few inches shorter, maybe — and had black hair, a similar length to Jason’s. Though their builds were different, when bent down to inspect the contents of the fridge and turned away from him, Peter didn’t notice until it was too late.
Oddly enough, his tingle wasn’t going off. Peter edged a foot backwards and held his fists up anyway. It wasn’t like this was the first time it had failed him.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Okaaay,” said the man. Dark blue eyes ran over Peter appraisingly, and he was abruptly reminded of his nakedness. He didn’t appreciate the vulnerability but refused to react. “I can see how this might look—”
“And what might this look like?” Peter asked, voice kept deliberately light.
The man coughed with embarrassment. “Like a break in?”
“Right,” Peter confirmed. He cursed his unpreparedness. Short of whipping off his towel and using it as a — uh — whip, he’d been caught out. “And is it?”
“No?” The man winced at Peter’s disbelieving stare.
“Should I be scratching your eyes out?
“I’d really rather you wouldn’t. I promise, I come in peace?”
Peter wondered how the man had got in — the door was still locked — and then he noticed that the window above Dog’s bed was open.
“You came through the window?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yes?”
“… Like a burglar.”
“Okay. I admit this doesn’t look promising. Look, I’m Dick, Jason’s brother.”
“Dick.”
“Yes.”
“Your name is Dick… In the year of our Lord, twenty-tw— twenty-sixteen. I thought names like that only existed in Dickens novels.”
Dick smiled beatifically. “Well. I can see how you and Jay might get along.”
“… Are you the one with the knives?”
“Eh?” Dick looked startled at the question. “Knives?”
“The one who likes knives. Jason mentioned him.”
“No.” Dick remained unnerved, which Peter thought was a bit rich for someone who’d broken in through a sixth storey window. “I’m the one from the circus.”
Circus… who in the hell was Jason? And what the hell was up with his family? Was he from the circus too? Probably not, right? Dick’s phrasing suggested the circus origins were unique to him. Peter thought he could see the resemblance to Jason with the black hair, but Dick’s jaw was more rounded, his cheekbones higher and his skin more naturally tanned.
“Right. He’s never spoken of you.”
Dick winced at Peter’s shameless dig and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I’m, uh, not always in Gotham?”
“I see.” He didn’t. At all.
A breeze from the open window reminded Peter he was half naked. He coughed awkwardly. “Uhm. I’m just gonna…”
Dick immediately understood and nodded, far too quickly to come across as natural. “Sure, sure.”
Peter slipped into his room and quickly re-dressed. His shirt was sinfully soft, with a faded, winged W printed on the front, and Peter took a moment to run a hand over his front in appreciation. For good measure, he put on socks too. It didn’t feel right to be meeting Jason’s brother in bare feet.
He wished Jason had thought to share his number with Peter before he left. See if Dick really was who he said he was. But Dog had evidently approved of his presence… for all that that meant.
“Where’s Jay?” Dick asked when Peter re-emerged. In Peter’s absence, he’d helped himself to various accoutrement for a sandwich, and Peter understood Jason’s reference to ‘unwanted guests’ a little better.
“Out.”
“Out?”
“Out.”
“Oh…” Dick looked only briefly disappointed at the lack of clarity, but it wasn’t like Peter could tell him even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. And ‘family stuff’ was a bit too nebulous to just offer up to a brother who didn’t seem to be included in that definition. “Wanna beer?”
Peter, with a caffeine intolerance that was barely twenty-four hours old, wasn’t sure that was a good idea. He opted for a white lie. “I don’t drink.”
Dick studied him a little more than Peter was really comfortable with. His gaze seemed to catch on the W-symbol on his shirt. Peter hoped it wasn’t like, a symbol for a hate group or something.
“Too young?” Dick asked, voice deceptively light.
“I’m just not a fan.”
Technically not untrue. Most of his experiences with alcohol had been limited to watching people make a fool of themselves (or others), becoming a threat to others, or the odd disgusting mouthful of wine or beer his aunt had parsed off to him before laughing herself silly at the faces he pulled.
“Suit yourself,” Dick sighed, and pulled one out of the fridge for himself. “You wanna sandwich?”
Peter chewed on his lip, hesitant to accept the offer, but his tingle wasn’t going off, and other than just being incredibly awkward, he didn’t get the sense that Dick was out to hurt him. “I could eat.”
An understatement. Peter could always eat.
Cautiously, he crossed the room to sit at the breakfast bar. If Dick was going to poison him, he’d rather catch it from up close.
“So… not that you’re not unwelcome,” Peter said slowly as Dick began to butter several slices of bread — Wonder Bread, because Jason was apparently five years old. “But why are you here at…” he glanced at the time on his phone, “Ten at night?”
sh*t, was that really the time?
“Ah. I work nights. And Jay’s only been back a couple of weeks, so I wanted to say hi before I went back to Blüdhaven.”
What kind of name was Blüdhaven? New Jersey, man.
“… I see. You just missed him, then.” By at least an hour. “He said he’d be back late.”
“Yeah. I’ll have to come back again.”
“During the day.”
Dick grinned, any sheepishness long gone. “We’ll see.”
The man slathered wholegrain mustard on the sandwiches and topped them each with a generous pile of ham — but not before giving into a begging Dog.
“I didn’t know he had a dog,” Dick admitted while she lapped the ham slice off the floor. “What’s her name?”
“Dog.”
Dick blinked. Then he was laughing, loud and free enough that Peter, with his delicate nerves, jumped a little. He smiled wryly to cover up the reaction.
“I know,” Peter sighed.
“No words,” Dick chuckled. “I — seriously? Dog?”
Dog wagged her tail to hear her name.
“Yes.”
“That guy always was sh*t at naming things.” He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, then slapped thick slices of cheese on the ham, bread on top, and cut the sandwiches in half crosswise. It was a mark in his favour. Peter took his right off the cutting board rather than dirty a plate. He sniffed at it surreptitiously but couldn’t find anything untoward.
It was a good sandwich. Could have used something pickled, but as suppers went, it was a solid offering.
They ate in silence, Dick failing to ignore Dog’s begging (she’d found an easy mark, clearly) and Peter demolishing his sandwich like he’d never eaten before. From the continued glances his way, it was clear that Dick had something he wanted to ask, but Peter was content to wait the man out.
Eventually, Dick gave in. “So…”
He blinked at the expectant tone to Dick’s voice and realised that he’d never introduced himself. “Peter,” he said.
Dick smiled gratefully. His gaze dropped and lifted quickly in a once over. “Peter. How do you know Jay?”
Peter shrugged. “We kind of just… fell into each other.” He took another bite.
Something gleamed in Dick’s eyes. “Oh?” He leaned casually against the counter. “How long have you known him?”
“… Long enough.” Better to stay vague. Despite Dick helping himself to Jason’s apartment, it didn’t sound like the brothers were too close.
“And you’re living here? With Jason?”
Peter raised a brow at the strange tone and suddenly felt defensive. “Yeah. I live here. With Jason. He’s kind.” That sounded suitably appreciative for a grilling from a sibling, right? “He’s a good guy,” he added, just for good measure.
The gleam gleamed brighter. “Sounds like you know him pretty well.”
Peter shoved the remainder of his sandwich into his mouth rather than answer and give the game away.
Fortunately, he was saved from any further interrogation by a vibrating notice in Dick’s pocket. He pulled out his phone and grimaced at the screen. “Damn. I gotta go.”
“I’ll let Jason know you stopped by.”
“Oh, don’t worry!” Dick waved off Peter’s offer with the hand still holding the sandwich, spraying fragments of cheese across the counter. “I’m sure he already knows!”
Peter frowned. Would he? Did Jason have cameras on his windows? That did seem like a Jason thing to have — doubly so in a city like Gotham. “… Sure.”
Dick scarfed down the remainders of his sandwich and fed the crusts to Dog, who was more than happy to take his scraps. Peter followed him to the front door and held on to Dog’s collar to prevent her from running straight out when Dick unlocked and opened the door.
“It was nice meeting you,” Peter said, though he wasn’t entirely sure if that was the case. The sandwich did do a lot of work at soothing his ruffled nerves though.
“It was excellent meeting you, Pete!” Dick said with more relish than Peter thought was warranted. He shook Peter’s hand enthusiastically, while Peter tried to make sure his grasp was the right side of firm. “Don’t be a stranger! You should get Jay to take you to the manor sometime! Meet the family.”
Manor?! What on Earth was up with Jason’s family? He’d have to ask him about it when he returned.
“Same to you?” Peter said. Dick grinned. Peter got the impression he’d just said something immensely funny, and he was now trying hard to hide his amusem*nt.
Dick’s phone went off again, and he let go of Peter’s hand. “See you around!”
“Bye.”
It was only after Dick had left that Peter wondered how the man had come in through the window when the fire escape was outside Jason’s bedroom…
It had to be a circus thing… Right?
— + —
Text only [HERE]
— + —
Peter did make an effort to stay awake, so he could tell Jason about the late night ‘visitor’, but only ended up falling asleep at his desk. He woke about thirty minutes later to a silent apartment and a brutal crick in his neck. He groaned, digging his fingers into the muscles in an attempt to alleviate the cramp, and stumbled away from the desk to fall, face first, into the mattress on the floor. It was as perfect as it had felt the first time he’d tested it. Peter barely had the fortitude to get a blanket over himself — the night had taken on a sharp chill — before he fell straight back to sleep.
He dreamed of Her.
When Peter next woke, sunlight streamed through the cracks in the blackout blinds and the windowsill. He suspected it was late morning, but the tragic smell of coffee was only just now seeping in through his closed door.
Peter closed his eyes again. The dreams weren’t new: these days they veered between heartbreakingly nostalgic or straight-up traumatic. He never used to dream of anyone he knew, but now… now that they weren’t a part of his life? Now they’d been torn away from him (or in Ned and MJ’s case, given up), they were all he dreamed of. His chest throbbed, even if all he could remember was the sound of her laughter and the feeling of contentment that faded as the dream dissolved upon waking. But he let himself bathe in that feeling, as much as it hurt to do so.
After all… that was all Peter had left, now. That, and the saved photos on his phone — those that hadn’t straight up corrupted.
Eventually, he came back to himself and Peter crawled out of bed with great effort. He ran a hand through the tangle of curls on his head — he really did need to get it cut — and emerged to see Jason standing by the window Dick had entered through, staring blankly down at the street below.
Peter felt immense jealousy for the cup of coffee held in Jason’s hands.
“Morning,” he said when Jason made no move to acknowledge him.
Jason turned only his head to greet him. “Hey. I hear you had to entertain an uninvited guest.”
Peter grinned, despite himself. Now that he’d slept, he could see the humour in it. “Sorry for not following your advice.”
“He’d’ve deserved it.”
“I take it he was your brother, then?”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Yeah. The eldest.”
“Are your siblings usually so…”
“Incapable of respecting boundaries like locked doors? Yes. Sorry in advance.” Something complicated twisted in Jason’s expression, before he turned back to watch the street, but did he point behind himself to the kitchen. “There’s cereal or toast or whatever. Help yourself.”
Peter did so and pulled the egg carton in the fridge after a brief deliberation. “I’m gonna have eggs on toast. You want some?”
“Sure. Pans are beside the stove.”
Dog, having realised that Peter was about to make breakfast, attempted to avail herself to him by weaving around his legs like a cat — no mean feat for a beast her size. He laughed at her antics but eventually rounded on her with a stern finger.
“Sit,” he ordered. Dog sat. “Stay,” he added as a follow up. Dog remained where she was, but Peter could feel her eyes on him as he cracked the eggs into the pans (he’d pulled out two, rather than crowd six eggs on the one burner) and loaded the toaster up. When he was done, he grabbed a treat from the jar Jason had shown him the day before and rewarded her good behaviour.
“She’ll be spoiled,” Jason said. He’d abandoned his post by the window to pull out the butter Peter had forgotten about, then sat on a stool to continue nursing his coffee.
“She’s already spoiled,” Peter snarked back. “Not even two days I’ve been here and I can already tell. Frankly, I think it’s a miracle she even listened.”
“Hm. True.” He whistled, short and sharp, and Dog left Peter to sit by Jason instead.
Peter worked in silence but didn’t allow his mind to wander unless he wanted the eggs to burn. When the toast popped, he handed them off to Jason and refilled the toaster.
“I only do sunny side up,” Peter warned, and chose not to explain that this was because anything more complicated usually turned into scrambled eggs when he screwed it up.
“That’s fine. There’s hot sauce in that cupboard.” Peter followed the direction of Jason’s pointing. When he opened it, the cupboard was entirely empty except for a bottle of Crystal and barbeque sauce. He turned a judgemental eye Jason’s way. “Crystal?”
“You are a f*cking condiment queen. It’s that way or the highway, bud. I haven’t done a proper shop yet.”
“And… how long have you been here?”
“… Two weeks.”
Peter gave him a stare of extreme judgement. Jason just stared back and slurped obnoxiously at his coffee. Mildly intimidated and not a little bit jealous, Peter took out the hot sauce. He’d buy something better when he got his own money.
The next load of toast popped up, and he deposited the eggs on Jason’s freshly buttered toast. Gave the pans a quick rinse. Then he joined Jason with a glass of water (mournfully, he eyed Jason’s coffee) and began to eat.
Without Dick, Dog didn’t bother trying to beg for food (she seemed to have clocked on quickly that Peter would not be sharing his meals) and wandered off to her bed.
“By the way,” Jason suddenly said when Peter had moved onto his second slice of toast and egg and inferior hot sauce. “Dick apparently thinks we’re dating.”
Peter choked on his eggs. Jason whacked him on the back while Peter wheezed and struggled to remember how to breathe. There were tears in his eyes when he eventually managed to get out a strangled, “He what?”
“Don’t know what you said to him, but that’s what he’s got in his head.”
“I didn’t tell him anything!” Peter wracked his brain, trying to think of what he might’ve said that could have led to Dick thinking he and Jason were an item. “I was as vague as possible!”
“Hm,” Jason hummed, unconvinced. He finished the last of his coffee and took the time to leisurely sprinkle more hot sauce over his eggs. “Could be, that’s where you went wrong.”
“I was just trying to be polite.”
“Hm.” Jason reached out and lightly poked at something on Peter’s neck. “Could also be, he saw that and misinterpreted.”
Peter frowned. Tried to glance down but to no avail. He turned on the camera on his phone and reversed it. “Oh.”
There was the yellowing remnant of a bruise on his neck. Where he’d pinched himself. It was the right size and in the perfect position for being misconstrued.
“How’d that get there, Peter?” Jason asked carefully.
“I…” Peter quickly gave into cowardice and changed the topic. “We should clarify, right?”
Jason frowned, looking somewhat resigned but he let the matter drop. Peter glanced away, guilty.
“At this point, I don’t think it matters to him. He’s got it in his head we’re together and anything we say or do will just reinforce his opinion. He’s an ass like that.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Eh.” Jason looked about as unphased as his tone, but Peter was burning with mortification. “It’s not the worst misunderstanding. And it does give you a cover.”
“Maybe. Or we could just, you know, tell them I’m your new roommate!” He groaned as he remembered something. “Oh my God, he invited me to ‘meet the family’! And you!” Peter rounded on Jason again, pointing an accusatory finger at the man. “Your family lives in a manor?”
Jason grimaced. “Ah. Yeah. Some do, but most have flown the nest by this point.”
“Most? Just how many siblings do you have?”
That Jason had to visibly pause to count was telling. “Five? Maybe. There’re a few others that could be counted as siblings, I guess. Bruce, my — uh — my foster father, he has a habit of collecting children. I’ve not been around enough in recent years to keep proper track.”
“Right,” Peter said dumbly. He couldn’t imagine such a full house — manor or not. He and his friends had all been only children, though Ned did have an pretty big extended family. “And you’re all adopted?”
Jason raised a brow. “Did Dick tell you that?”
“Dick said he was from the circus. He kinda made it sound like all of you have different origin stories. Like trading cards.”
“Ah, yeah. Most of us are. Or close enough to.”
“What even is your life, dude.”
Jason laughed. “Oh Pete, you don’t even know the half of it.”
Peter turned back to his eggs, but Jason wasn’t finished with the conversation. “We can clarify, if you’re worried about it.”
“Hmm…” On the one hand, Dick’s assumption was false. Manners dictated that they straighten out the misunderstanding. But on the other hand… it was a convenient cover. And…
Well.
Peter kind of just wanted to f*ck with the guy. He had broken into Jason’s apartment without warning or invite, after all.
“Let him have this,” Peter said eventually, and grinned crookedly.
Jason immediately understood his intentions. He laughed. “You may regret that, you know?”
“I dunno,” Peter mused. “If I can sow a little chaos while I’m here, I think things’ll turn out just right.”
“Suit yourself, Pete.” Jason clapped a heavy hand on Peter’s shoulder one last time before he turned his attentions back to breakfast. “When this all blows up, I’ll be sure to bring us some marshmallows.”
Peter nodded decisively. “So long as we’re on the same page.”
“Oh yeah. I can get behind a little chaos.”
They finished their breakfast in peace after that.
CLICK [HERE] TO RETURN From messages. The time reads 10:34PM
J:Why did you break into my apartment
dickhe*d: Hes cute! Jaded. Protective. I like him.
J: ??? The f*ck are you on about
dickhe*d: Does he KNOW?
J: Dick
dickhe*d: He has 2. Rite? If he’s living with u.
J: DICK!
dickhe*d: a bit young 4 u tho don’t u think? Or is it just babyface? And a normie! Colour me shook
J: Please tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.
dickhe*d: u 2 make a cute couple!!
dickhe*d: Also, when did u get a dog?
J: I hate you so much.
dickhe*d: <3
dickhe*d: U shoud bring him to meet the famly some time! A would be thrilled!!!
