Chapter Text
“That spider of yours almost got me, Batman.” Catwoman purrs, dancing along the edge of a roof that overlooks the streets below, silent except for the distant yelling. “You should fill him in on our… arrangement.”
Batman grunts in response, as he does to many things. She doesn’t mind though, and she hops off the rail to prance around him, her fingers faintly trailing over his suit.
“I might have to eat it, if he’s not too careful,” she whispers.
“You’d do nothing of the sort,” he says, the texture of his voice raspier than the gravelly feel he wants.
“I guess,” she smiles, canines flashing. “He seems fun to toy with.”
A tug pulls down at Batman’s lips for a millisecond, but other than that he just follows her with his eyes.
“Goodnight~” she plants a fast kiss on his cheek before slinking down the side of the building.
Batman watches with narrow eyes as she leaves his field of vision.
“B, we have a situation,” Oracle says out of his earpiece. “Another kid’s missing.”
“Where?”
“Why does no one in this house know anything about Spiderman?!” Tim grumbles, banging his head on the desk he was sitting at.
“What’s goin’ on, Timbo?” Dick says, ruffling his hair.
“Nothing, nothing. Just becoming Spiderman’s number one hater really quick,” he says, swatting Dick’s hands away and running his own through his hair, trying—and failing—to save it from looking awful.
“Well, start with what you know. Height, voice, approximate age, the works.”
“I know how to build a file, Dick. The issue is I have nothing to fill half the sheet with.” Tim pulls up the document that’s been set up by Bruce. The best image of Spiderman has barely any focus and is blurry in several areas, the voice snippets match with nothing in the area, and there’s no material anywhere that makes the webbing he has.
“Eesh.”
Tim’s head finds its way back to the table with a thunk.
“What’s up with him?” Jason asks as he saunters over to the two.
“Spiderman’s giving him a tough time.”
Tim resists the urge to flip Dick the bird. “Not a ‘tough time’, Dick. He’s literally the bane of my existence.”
“Maybe you need to go outside, take a breather.”
“Yeah Timmy boy, go take a walk,” Jason says, giving him a good pat on the back.
He groans as he gets out of the chair and walks upstairs, speaking bad insults under his breath.
“Two different stalking cases at the same time,” Jason chuckles, turning to look up at the screen, “this guy needs to calm down.”
“Nothing he hasn’t done before,” Dick shrugs, his eyes lingering on his brother for a moment more before staring at the screen with him. “You’ve done it before, too.”
“Unfortunately.”
The steps of booted feet reverberate in the cave, indicating the arrival of one black-clad vigilante.
“Ah,” Jason mutters, his eyes grazing Batman’s form. He makes his exit as if it’s staged, the scenario being rehearsed time and time again, allowing Batman to fill his spot in front of Dick as if he was never even there (everyone knows that he was, but no one will talk about it).
Taking off the cowl, Bruce stares at the BatComputer for a minute before grumbling and muttering to himself, “I’ll have to change the passwords, again.”
“What was that, B?” Dick asks, leaning on the back of the chair like he used to do when he was little.
Bruce grunts in response.
“Alrighty then.”
The two stare at the screen together, the only sound coming from the echoing ambience of the cave and the clacking on the keyboard.
“Another one?” he asks.
“Mhm,” says Bruce, adding another file onto the group. “I’ll have to inform the League.”
“I’m so glad you have friends,” Dick chimes. “It’d kill me if you spent all your time with children.”
“I’m barely 15 years older than you, chum. Hold your tongue.”
“You say you’re barely my age and then say things like Alfred,” he rolls his eyes.
“And whatever do you mean by that, Master Dick? I assume you’re not alluding to my age.” Alfred says from behind the two of them.
They both jump, never immune to Alfred.
“Hey, Alfred!” Dick smiles, recovering quickly and leaning over to wrap a shoulder around the man. “It’s nothing, I promise!!”
“I’m sure of it.”
“Anyway.. I’m going to go upstairs now, say hi to Damian and all that pizzazz.”
Bruce grunts in response.
MONDAY
Peter does not like waking up for school. In fact, quite the opposite, especially when he’s stuck in a warehouse and using cardboard for both a mattress and sheets. At least he doesn’t need to take a shower since he can’t sweat.
It doesn’t mean he doesn’t want one, though.
His spider suit sticks to his body uncomfortably as he stands up. A shiver runs down his spine and he’s reminded of the upcoming winter months once again, staring down at his cardboard blanket. He shakes out his legs and arms as he puts on his wrinkled, dirt speckled uniform, and wishes that he could crack his joints again. A yawn escapes from his lips and he rolls his shoulders back, ready to get on with the day.
His uniform fits uncomfortably on his body, and when he looks down he notices the dirt stains. What the hell am I going to do now.
“If you stop ignoring me, I can give you a suggestion,” Strange tells him.
“Alright sassy pants let's hear it,” he mocks the doctor. Peter can feel the eyebrow raise that he gets.
“Nevermind then.”
“Sorry Mr. Strange, what is it?”
“I think you’ll figure it out on your own.”
“Noooo Mr. Strange please!!” he starts debating getting on his knees to plead.
“Don’t do that.” Dr. Strange says, a grimace evident in his tone. “A dry cleaner is a good place to start.”
“With what money am I gonna— oh.” Peter totally forgot about his scholarship money. And the P.O. box he had set up weeks ago. “I dunno if they’re going to be much help with the tearing in the seams though.”
“Talk to the front office about that.”
“That seems like a bother.”
“Do it anyway.”
“Oh also what about the Parent-Teacher conference thing?” he asks as he grabs his bag. He tries to shoo off Dotty and leave her there, but she instead crawls up his arm. He supposes that she’s scared he wouldn’t come back for him like he did before. Sighing, he agrees to let her stay with him for the day.
“I’m working on it.”
“Yeah, uh also you’ve gotta be Mr. Stark for that. Dunno if you know that.”
A strangled groan comes from Dr. Strange that he doesn’t think he’s supposed to hear as the mage agrees to the name.
On the way to Gotham Prep, the teen tries to come up with an excuse to give his teachers. In general, Peter doesn’t like lying much; he’s bad at it and usually can’t remember the lie he gave. And the truth… it’s too personal, too much to give to people he probably won’t see in a year.
As he exits the subway doors, he trips on the gray indicators on the tile floor. Cursing inwardly at himself and the stupid ground, he makes his way to the school building.
Opening the front door, he’s reminded by Dr. Strange to talk to the lady at the front office. The smell of the office is warm and paper-like. Not the most appealing thing in the world, but it isn’t as bad as gasoline.
“HELLO” Peter signs, tapping once or twice on the desk.
“Hello, is there anything I can help you with?”
“NEW UNIFORM”
“A new uniform?” her brow creases slightly. “Just have your parents fill out this form and turn it in at the financial office tomorrow, and I’ll get you one. What’s your size, honey?”
“MEDIUM”
“I’ll have one set aside for you.”
“THANK YOU” he gives her a thumbs up and a closed smile.
“No problem at all, have a good day!”
He gives her a nod in return as he leaves the room.
Heading to math, he doesn’t know how to face Damian. Maybe the boy will just ignore him and they won’t talk for their shared class periods. Walking inside the classroom, he understood immediately that that wasn’t going to happen. Damian’s eyes locked onto him like a homing beacon, looking him up and down in what Peter can’t tell is disgust or contemplation.
“Stark,” Damian says as he sits down, “Where did you go on Friday?”
“NOWHERE”
Damian squints his eyes at the lie, “I didn’t take you to be this stupid.”
Damn, Peter thought, that’s a wild read.
“FAMILY EMERGENCY”
“Hn,” Damian hums.
He figures that Damian finds his excuse uninteresting (which is partially true), because he doesn’t ask any more questions.
On the other hand, Duke is practically full of them. And, for some reason, Tim.
“Dude, Damian said you left during lunch, you alright?” Duke asks.
Peter gives a thumbs up as a ‘feeling good’ indicator.
“You sure? You look a little beat up,” Tim says.
I don’t look that bad… do I? Peter squints.
“Mildly,” Dr. Strange’s input just annoys him.
And I didn’t know Tim was even in this class. Peter squints his eyes. How long has it been since I’ve been here? Never seen him a day in my life in this classroom.
“SINCE WHEN D-O YOU HAVE CLASS” he asks Tim in return.
“Since when do I..? Oh, yeah I just get a little busy with things sometimes,” Tim brushes it off like it’s no big deal. “Bruce wants me to finish my last year of high school, and since I don’t want to be here they let me take online lessons when I want to. Pretty sick deal, huh?”
He nods in response.
“Hey, you ready for the conferences this week?” Duke asks.
“YES”
“Who’s coming?” Tim prys.
“DAD” it hurts Peter a little bit to say that, but it comes out nonetheless.
“Nice,” Duke smiles. “What day’s yours?”
“DON’T KNOW”
“I can check for you if you want,” Tim pulls out his computer. “They’re usually with your first period teacher, who do you have?”
“V-A-N-R-Y”
“Alright let me look…” he opens up a spreadsheet and clicks over to the math teacher’s page. “Huh. I don’t see your name on there.”
Shocker, Peter thinks.
“There’s a couple spots open on Wednesday if you want to take one of those,” Tim says as he scrolls down the sheet.
“YES”
“There’s 3:30, 5:00, and 7:30 available.”
“Put down 3:30,” Strange tells him.
“THREE” Peter can feel Duke’s eyes on him as he tells Tim what to do.
“Alright… and there you go,” Tim shows him the screen. It’s pretty boring, no type of information other than the student’s name being put down.
Peter shoots him a nod and a thumbs up, “THANK YOU”
“Anytime.”
Walking to the library with the borrowed books in his knapsack, he gets worried they’re overdue. He stops outside, taking a deep breath in before ascending the steps and walking inside the building. Now inside, he’s met with a familiar face, and an unknown one.
“One second…” Barbara mumbles to the man standing in front of the desk, “Hello, welcome to– Peter! Welcome back.”
He waves at her, before swinging his bag around to open it and grab the books. Setting them on the table, Barbara picks them up and scans them.
“Thanks, Peter.”
“YOU ARE WELCOME”
“Hey, there’s someone I want you to meet really quick, if that’s alright with you.”
As he agrees, she gestures to the man beside him. “This is Richard Grayson, a good friend of mine.”
He eyes the taller man. Isn’t this the guy I bumped into a while back..?
“Nice to meet you,” Richard says, holding out his hand for Peter to shake.
He takes it.
“Dick, this is Peter,” Barbara says.
“NICE TO MEET YOU” he signs, almost giggling at the nickname.
They stare awkwardly at each other a moment before Peter takes a step back to turn around and leave.
“You’re friends with Damian, right?”
Stopping himself from leaving, Peter raises an eyebrow suspiciously. “YES”
“Sorry,” Dick smiles, almost nervously. “I’m his older brother.”
Huh, Peter thinks. Interesting.
“COOL” he glances for a moment at Barbara. “HAVE TO GO”
“Ah, alright. Bye Peter!” Barbara says.
“Goodbye,” Dick gives him a wave.
He returns the wave as he walks out of the library, not realizing just how warm it was in the building until he stepped back outside. Turning down the street, he visits the post office and notices the multiple letters in it. Who knew I was this popular?
“Don’t get a big head, Peter.”
I know, I know, he rolls his eyes as he pulls out the papers. Closing the door, he flips through them one by one and pulls out the envelopes marked with his school’s address. Two checks with 100 dollars each brighten up his day immediately. Looking around, he spots an ATM that he prays will let him cash in a check. Scrambling over, he fidgets with some pins for a moment (that he only vaguely remembers setting up) before depositing one of the checks and hoping it won’t eat it. Somehow he managed to find the best ATM in Gotham, because it wasn’t rigged to steal his money and gave him five 20 dollar bills in change. Pumping his fist in the air—before immediately putting it down in shame and embarrassment—he puts the other one in as well.
Walking out with 200 dollars stuffed in all different parts of his outfit, shoes, pants, bag, even in his hands, he almost starts skipping in excitement. Should I get a sweet treat? He asks himself.
“You should save your money,” Dr. Strange tells him, “For important things.”
Walking into a coffee shop, Peter orders a hot chocolate. For Grandma Penny.