ThePoppyPress

What's poppin? 

[thepoppypress]

Is it bad that I kind of want to orphan my works from my AO3 account? I remember being really proud of my works when I was younger but now that I'm a little older, I realize how badly I actually wrote it (lol - plot holes, tropes galore, etc.). And while I wouldn't ever delete it, I find that I can't feel the joy and pride of it anymore. Understandably, every one has differing opinions of fan fiction, but I'm hoping that this is something that people have felt before and overcome.

I don't know if other fanfiction writers feel/felt the same way but maybe by making this, I feel like I can call into the void and see who answers.

Any advice would be appreciated!

[thepoppypress]

Hi! May I ask, have you taken down The Battleline Between Good And Evil?

Hello!! Thank you for asking. No I have not completely - it is only down for a little bit but should be back up in early November!

Also, sorry for not responding sooner - I just saw this question! :)

[memeuplift]

[thepoppypress]

REAL

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man) is a EPIC Fic! Will Chapter 10 be up soon?

Thanks a lot! Not just yet, I'm still working on it. Writers block for this fandom hit me just as I was about to start the 10th chapter so it's still in progress. Are you the person asking about it I am Sunlight (Slicing Through the Dark)?

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 9: 

“M-Mr. Stark?” He whispered, eyes large beneath his mask. He was almost afraid to breathe, scared that if he did, if he made any movements, it would prove to be a dream and that his mentor wasn’t standing right in front of him, protecting him. “Is that really you?”

Mr. Stark turned his head again, his smile, though strained, was still as blinding as ever.

“In the flesh, kiddo.” Tears sprung to Peter’s eyes and his bottom lip trembled, though no one could see it through the mask. Tony, as if knowing his reaction, kissed his teeth. “Look, Underoos, I know you’re probably emotional right now but we have a problem on our hands. We can talk and hug it out later, okay?”

Peter realized his mentor was right and nodded, willing the tears to dry.

“Right,” he coughed, clearing his throat, slightly cracked through the voice modulator. “Let’s do this.” Tony nodded.

“Alright. Get out of the way.” He did, tumbling to his right while Tony went left, letting the sentinel’s blast hit the wall, essentially destroying it.

“Is Dr. Strange with you?”

“Right here, spider boy,” a voice said, just appearing out of nowhere. He jumped about ten feet in the air and came to face said doctor, who had a shit eating grin on his face.

“I hate you.” The genius tsked.

“Is that any way to talk to your father?” Peter sputtered a bit.

“But…you’re not my dad?” Tony feigned a hurt look.

“Dear, listen to that,” he simpered at Stephen, who rolled his eyes, “‘You’re not my father,’ he says. The utter betrayal!” The spider vigilante snorted.

“I see your dramatics haven’t stopped.” The billionaire harrumphed.

“Never!” A loud whistle pierced the air and the three men turned to look at a seething Damian Wayne.

“Hey! We need some help over here! Cease your chattering!”

“Oh yeah,” Peter was sheepish, “the robot.” Tony sighed and his husband rolled his shoulders, wincing at the cracks.

“Are you helping out?” The question was directed at Loki, who only smirked.

“Of course not,” is all he says before he disappears like he was never there before. The three paused for a moment.

‘That tracks,’ Peter thinks as he sighed in exasperation.

“Yeah. We can talk later.” They rushed towards the fight, great smiles on their faces as they fought together, finally reunited after a long time apart.

-----

They were losing.

It’s not like the odds were against them, but they were losing somehow. Peter thinks it’s because of the reinforcements that the Joker called when he flew away. He groaned.

“Getting tired, sweetheart?” Slade panted next to him, fighting off three men at the same time, each with their own weapons. Peter grimaced in his suit. The sentinel had been long defeated but now, there were just troves and troves of people in clown masks, laughing like the Joker as they attacked Peter’s team.

“Not even-” Tony’s voice cut into their short conversation.

“Excuse me, what did you just call the kid?” His tone was accusatory and highly unamused. Slade didn’t answer and walked away, two goons hanging underneath his arms and the other one over his shoulder. More men came at him, maximum of two but when you were as huge as Slade, with the amount of muscle mass he has, everyone kind of just bounces off anyways.

“Who are you again?” Slade’s tone took on a wary note, even as he turned to throw the goons hanging off of him to the side.

“I’m his mentor. Who’re you?” Slade paused, taking in Tony in the suit.

“His friend,” Slade reluctantly says, pointing at Peter, who beams at him.

“Yeah. He’s my friend.” Tony’s eyes narrowed underneath his mask.

‘Oh, he’s definitely more than that.’ Before Tony could say anything else, however, five figures dropped into the room from the hole in the top of the roof, their silhouettes catching Tony, Peter, and Slade’s eye.

“Did someone ask for backup?!” Harley’s enthusiastic tone echoed in the sewer and Peter couldn’t stop himself from smiling. She was in the same outfit, but with a cleaner look.

The others, who Peter believes to be Steph in the purple and those three ladies who own BP gym, Harley’s old ride or dies. He recognized their figures, even with the kevlar they wore.

There was a new person, however. She was wearing a skin-tight black outfit, similar to Bruce’s in the comics. A golden bat, also similar to Batman’s, was donned on the front of her shirt, a hood over her head. She had dark bangs and a short bob of black hair.

‘Who’s that?’ he asks himself. The mystery woman joined his best friend and high fived Steph, who said, with a grin,

“Who’s ready to kick clown ass?! Let’s go ladies!”

“Is that Harley Quinn?” Tony asked in disbelief. Peter turned to his mentor/un-official dad, a hand on his heart.

“Mr. Stark, you know about Harley Quinn?” Peter could practically feel Tony roll his eyes. Stephen stepped up beside his husband.

“You forget that we all grew up with these stories, Spiderman.” Peter shrugged.

“I never really know what you guys grew up with. You’re so old, you know?” Tony gasped and pointed a finger at Peter who cackled in his suit.

“Take that back! I look as young as your aunt does!” Peter shrugged again, smiling like a brat underneath his mask before running away to join Slade and Harley in the fight. He hears Tony start to curse him out behind him.

‘Just like old times,’ he thought, a warm feeling blooming inside his chest as everyone else rejoined the fight, battling with all their might.

-----

It was overwhelming. Peter never expected the Joker to have this many people working for him. It was at least a ten to one ratio. After you took a few out of commission, more seemed to come in and join. Even Bruce was struggling.

“Guys!” He called to everyone, knowing that they could hear him on the comms, “we need to end this soon! It’s been two hours already! We’re going to get tired eventually!”

“Speak for yourself, princess!” Jason shouted, grunting when he took a hit to the stomach, before punching the goon right in his clown mask. It knocked him out cold.

“As much as I hate to say it,” Tim said through clenched teeth, his bo staff knocking against multiple heads as he swung it this way and that, “the new guy’s right. We need to finish this. Now.” Peter panted. This was getting him tired and doing it all manually, fighting them off personally was highly inefficient. He backed up as five different men surrounded him.

One reached for Peter, but he ducked out of the way and shot a web at them, sticking them to the wall. More hands rushed at him and he did the same thing. However, even as he stopped them, more joined in to fight with him, their masks taunting him, laughing at him.

“Where the fuck is Joker getting so many people to fight for him?!” He shouted to no one in particular, though answering laughs and cackles reached his ears. He stared in disbelief. They laughed like him too?!

It was only a second later that he looked around, desperate for a break, that he finally noticed something that could be of use to them.

“Karen!”

“Yes, Spiderman?”

“Webbing Fluid: Net Function!”

“Of course,” she answered and a large net, made of his best synthesized web fluid which is able to hold for more than five hours (the longest he’s made yet), spread across many of the goons on his side of the sewer. The line from his shooter disconnected from his wrist, his hand wrapping around it before jumping onto the wall and quickly climbing up.

The net moved from under the men, scooping them up in one motion as Peter pulled on the line in his hand, the net closing and bunching up at the top. Peter leaned down and tied it into one of the best knots he knew, one that Steve and Bucky taught him. He then hauled the line over his shoulder, crouching low into the wall and climbing up to attach the line, and by extension, the net full of Joker’s goons, to the wall. For extra security, he shot some more webbing onto the net (though the goons could still breathe) and to the line that was sticking to the wall.

“I know a good way to end this!” Tony snarled as multiple hands restrained his armored arms. He snapped forward and flipped two people over his arm.

“Then get on it, Underoos! We’ll cover for you!” Peter could hear Jason snort and he scowled.

“If you’re such a genius, why didn’t you think of it in the first place?” He grumbled to himself as he swung away from the goons attached to the wall and towards the lifeless sentinel on the ground. He landed gracefully and crept closer, staying low so as to not attract attention. Thinking logically, he figured that the panel to the sentinels innermost controls would be upwards of the torso and head, the hardest places to get to.

The sentinel was lying on its stomach, so he checked the head first. He found nothing on the back of the head plate.

‘It must be on the front then,’ he thought with some irritation. He really did not want to flip a giant robot over at the moment. But he had to. So with a groan, he sneaked his hands beneath the forehead, and knowing that the rest of the body would be connected with and supported by the head, began to lift. It was easy enough and when he gained enough distance from the ground, he rotated the head in his hands, the rest of the body following suit. A loud crash of metal on concrete resulted. Peter cursed.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck. Gotta hurry!’ He rushed to the chest, the forehead bearing no opening plate. Just as he had thought, there was a small rectangular door where he assumed led to the control panel.

Using his hand, he squeezed the door, the metal bending right into his fingers, breaking off its hinges entirely. It revealed bunches of wires and buttons that he couldn’t quite make sense of just yet. He observed for a second longer before he concluded that he needed Karen.

“Karen! Scan this and tell me how to control him!” He stood up and pointed his arm down to the control panel and a light scanned the panel and the surrounding electrical wires.

“Cut the blue one, Peter and then connect this,” his watch produced a thin and small hard drive, “to the USB insert. I will do the rest.”

“You got it. Thanks Karen,” he said as he got to work, using his superstrength to rip apart the lone blue wire in the panel.

“Of course.” Peter grabbed the USB and clumsily flipped it to get it to fit into the insert, mentally cheering when he finally did it.

“Alright, now what?”

“Loading information.” A second passed. “Information download complete. Loading controls.” Another second.

“Hurry up, Underoos! We can’t hold them back much longer!” Peter growled, turning to glare at the back of his mentor.

“Doing my best over here, Mr. Stark!” He turned back to the sentinel underneath his feet. “Please hurry up Karen!”

“Just another second, Peter. Controls download complete. What would you like Toby to do?” Peter quirked an eyebrow, a bit incredulous.

“The robot has a name?” And if Peter really listened, he could hear a sort of offended tone to Karen’s voice.

“Of course he does.” A moment passed by as the spider-themed vigilante blinked. He shrugged.

“Whatever. Bring him up, Karen!”

“Affirmative.” The robot beneath Peter’s feet, Toby, Peter reminded himself, started to rumble, its metal parts creaking and groaning as the arms of the sentinel pushed him back into a standing position.

Multiple people, including most of the goons of the Joker and his own team turned to watch the sentinel walk upright in fascination and horror. Peter jumped from Toby’s chest and onto a concrete wall. Toby started forward on Peter’s command, swiping downwards at the goons whose weapons were ineffective against the giant hunk of metal.

“Mr. Stark, move everyone away!” Tony turned to look at his husband and no words passed between them, but an agreement was reached within seconds. Tony deployed his thrusters, flying up to Peter’s position on the wall as Dr. Strange opened a portal behind each of their team and sucked them in.

The portal opened in one of the upper tunnels, giving the Bats (who shook their heads and held their stomachs after jumping out of the portal) and Slade a bird’s eye view of the battle between Toby and the minions. Peter trusted his legs to hold him up as his hands played with the controls given on a holoscreen projection from his watch.

“I see you’re making good use of that watch I gave you.” Peter rolled his eyes but smiled.

“Yeah. This’ like the first time in a couple months.” Tony was quiet but the younger man could tell there was guilt in the air.

“Pete, I’m sorry we couldn’t-” Peter cut him off, refusing to receive an apology for something that wasn’t Tony’s fault.

“It’s not your fault Mr. Stark. It will never be your fault.” The vigilante could tell that Tony still felt guilty but his words appeased him slightly. Just before Tony was about to say something, however, something shiny caught Peter’s attention out of the corner of his eye.

In Dr. Strange’s rush to get everyone out of there, he forgot Harley, who was fighting off two goons while not noticing one with a javelin in his hand, creeping up on her.

“Harley!” He yelled in a panic, startling Tony and then jumping into action. Harley likely didn’t hear him due to the gunfire and fighting. Peter shot a web precisely at the goon’s hand, causing him to lunge backwards and fall on his back. He swung down and helped Harley get rid of the other two she was fighting.

By the time they were done, they were both panting slightly.

“Thanks, man,” Harley got out between breaths.

“No,” pant, “problem.” More panting. Amidst his distraction with Harley, he didn’t hear the goon in the back rip his way out of Peter’s webs.

He did, however, get a tingle, his Spidey Sense acting up. He felt it move towards Harley. Doe brown eyes widened and before anyone could do anything else, he whipped his head towards his best friend. Using his strength, he pushed himself by the balls of his feet towards where Harley was and pushed her out of the way.

She fell to the ground with a thud and looked up incredulously, before the sound of a rip and a squelch echoed in the sewer. Clear blue eyes looked up towards brown as Peter’s mask dissolved, showing his face, which had gone pale white.

Those same blue eyes showed heart break as Harley’s mind comprehended what was in front of her: Peter, falling to his knees, large brown eyes wide, with the bloody blade of a javelin protruding out of his chest.

“Peter!” Harley shouted at the same time Tony and Stephen screamed Peter’s name. The goon behind Peter used one of his feet to push at his shoulder, so he slumped forward and the javelin left his chest, leaving a giant hole.

The Bat’s up above snapped their head towards the figures lying in a growing pool of blood, hearing the name of someone they held dear to their hearts. Slade was the first to jump into action, using one of his grapple hooks to hold himself steady as he slid down the wall.

He was followed by Dick, Damian, and the rest of the Bat Clan, hurrying down to see if what they heard and saw with their own eyes was true. Tony had already flown down and was now cradling Peter’s body in his hands, his husband portalling down next to him. Tears rolled down Tony’s eyes.

“Pete! Pete! Stay awake buddy!” Stephen cursed.

“He’s losing blood fast. Hold on. I know a spell.” A bright bubble of light enveloped the hole in Peter’s chest, holding in the blood so he didn’t lose much more. “We need to get him to a hospital.”

“Not a hospital,” Damian bit out, heart somehow utterly broken at seeing someone like Peter in a state like this. “They’ll ask too much.” Stephen glared up at the green eyed man.

“And do you somehow have better people than surgeons to work with? I’m a surgeon and I would do the surgery but it’s not sanitary enough here.” Stephen grimaced at the thought of doing a surgery on the floor of a sewer. Damian glared right back at Stephen, towering over all of them.

“I do, actually. We have a space in our house for that.” Peter giggled a bit then groaned at the large jolts of pain that occurred when his chest moved.

“Not a house. A mansion,” he corrected and Damian’s jade green eyes softened a bit.

“A mansion. My apologies. However, we have a space if you would like to assist Agent A in helping out our...companion.” Stephen glowered longer before Tony hit his husband’s calf. The doctor sighed and agreed.

“Fine. Let’s go.” A portal opened and Tony, with Peter limp in his arms, just barely awake, went in first, appearing in the foyer of Wayne Manor. Stephen followed through, along with Harley and Steph. Everyone else stayed back.

“Aren’t you guys coming?” Harley asked, pleading with her eyes. Dick gave a stunning smile and it actually had a bit of a genuine note to it.

“Don’t worry about us Harley. Take care of our boy.” Harley hesitated for a moment before nodding.

“Give ‘em hell,” she commanded, a glare present on her pretty features. Bloodthirsty smiles were given to her in return. Harley could even see Slade’s smile through his black and orange divided mask.

“You got it,” Jason winked. Harley offered a small smile and then turned her back to them, letting the portal close behind her.

Everyone looked towards Bruce who smirked, reveling in the anxiety that spiked from the Joker’s men, all crowded on the other side of the sewer room.

“You heard the lady,” Bruce said, his timber becoming dangerous. Eyes sharpened and grips on weapons tightened. Stances lowered, becoming predatory. These people will avenge the loved one who was gravely injured. That was a promise, seen in their grins and their hungry gazes. “Fuck. Them. Up.”

The battle had begun.

-----

Jason breathed deeply as the metallic smell of blood entered his nose. He shivered in pleasure as the man beneath his feet pleaded for mercy.

Of course, he couldn't give it and laughed loudly as he shot a bullet through his brain. Splatters of blood reached Jason, ricocheting off his clothes and staining the underside of his jaw. He did nothing to wipe it away and instead turned to his family who watched him in amusement.

“What?” He rolled his eyes and shrugged when their expressions only became more amused. “Whatever. That’s the last of them.” The sight of a massacre laid before them, each with their own stains of blood, their own injuries but nothing compared to the celebration in their eyes, the pleasure they derived from splitting bodies apart like they were pieces of paper. Their own bodies trembled with the high that they lived off of from the murders of Joker’s men.

“I haven’t had that much fun in forever,” Stephanie comments, scratching at a droplet of blood that stained her dark purple sleeve. Tim raised an eyebrow.

“What about last month? The fire and the warehouse?” Steph shrugged, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder.

“That was then. Everything else that’s happened besides Peter was boring. You’re all boring people,” she whined. A hand tapped at her shoulder, and the blonde turned around to face Cassandra Cain, who had just returned from Hong Kong. Cassandra pointed to herself, eyes large and innocent, though everyone who really knew her understood that she was anything but. “You’re always an exception, Cassie.”

Damian snorted. “She’s always an exception.” Bruce smiled genuinely.

“Glad to have you back Cassie. How was Hong Kong?” Cass shrugged, her cropped hair bobbing along with her movements.

“It was okay. Easy stuff. Got everyone back in line. There shouldn’t be any more issues from the Triad nor the Yakuza.” The smile of the billionaire’s face sharpened. He clapped his adoptive daughter on the shoulder.

“Good,” he praised, his figure proud. His daughter always made him proud. That was why she was the favorite.

“B!” Dick whined, large blue eyes aimed up at his adoptive father. “You never tell me I’m good!” Bruce’s expression fell flat. Chuckles raised from the group, specifically Slade who was watching from the sidelines the entire time. He feared that if he were to impede on their play time, the time when the real demons inside these ordinary looking people came out to play, he’d become part of the massacre.

And not the good part.

“Shut up, Slade,” Dick grumbled. He only shrugged and walked away, towards the grappling hook that he had come down from earlier.

“And where are you going, Deathstroke?” Steph drawled, her arms now hanging over Tim’s shoulders.

“To see my sweetheart.”

-----

“How is he now?” Tony asked his husband as Alfred finished up inside the operating room. Stephen sighed, pinching his nose as he took off his protective personal equipment.

“He’s stable for now and his vitals are starting to look okay. You could tell the healing process is already taking hold but we’re not sure how long this is going to take or how much energy he’s going to be expending stitching up that giant hole in his chest.” Tony nodded, pushing the grim reality of Stephen’s words aside.

“But he’s okay? He’s going to be okay?” Stephen cocked his head over to the side.

“Honey, we’re scientists, we don’t make promises nor do we believe everything that-”

“Just,” Tony said loudly, clenching his eyes shut, “let me be optimistic. I don’t want to hear it right now, okay?” Stephen was silent for a moment, intelligent blue eyes appraising Tony before the doctor nodded.

“Okay. He’ll be fine. At the very least, that’s my prediction and I’ve been right many, many times.” Tony glared at his smirking husband.

“Now is not the time for jokes, Stephen.” The surgeon rolled his eyes.

“Then what is it the time for?” Tony put his hands around his waist, letting some of his weight go onto his right foot so he was leaning slightly.

“It is time for you,” he pointed to Stephen, “to go home and let everyone else we’re okay.” Stephen shrugged.

“Don’t you think Loki’s already done that?” Tony looked at his husband with incredulity.

“What do you think, babe? It’s Loki!” Stephen rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’ll see you later okay? Let me know how Peter’s doing and when he wakes up.” Tony nodded, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to.

“I love you,” he called out when Stephen was halfway through the door.

“Love you too,” was lazily thrown back.

‘Typical,’ Tony thought fondly.

Suddenly, the full weight of what happened today fell upon Tony and he found that he couldn’t stand anymore. His knees buckled and he could no longer stand upon his weak legs so he let gravity do its work.

Before he could fully hit the ground, however, a strong hand enclosed his upper arm and hoisted him back up. His head lolled backwards and before he knew it, he was swept upwards into a bridal carry.

“Stephen?” He mumbled out, eyes squinting up at his captor. Blue eyes stared down at him but they weren’t Stephen’s crystal blue eyes. No, they were deep like the ocean. They pulled him in with their current. “You’re not Stephen,” he grumbled and was shocked to hear a rumbling laugh emit from the chest he was held to.

“No,” an even deeper voice than his husband says, “I’m not.”

“You’re, uh,” Tony fumbled with his words a bit, “Bruce Wayne right? You’re Batman.”

Bruce stared down at the adorable sight in his arms. Half-lidded whiskey eyes stared up at him and Tony mumbled something akin to fur? That was all Bruce could make out before Tony went limp in his arms. Everything was quiet for a moment before Jason snorted.

“Did he just call you a furry?”

-----

Peter snuffled in his sleep, causing Harley to snap her head in his direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of him waking up. She deflated when she saw that he was still asleep.

“You know, Miss Quinn,” a distinctly British voice said from the doorway of her and Peter’s once shared room, “it was always considered rude for a gentleman to keep a lady waiting.” Harley laughed wetly, tears coming in quickly.

“I hope he doesn’t make me wait long. I want answers as much as I want him to wake up.” Alfred hummed and walked into the room, checking through Peter’s vitals in Stephen’s stead. After a quick check-through, he finally turned to Harley, who was still looking at Peter’s ashen face, nearly the same color as the white pillows that he rested on.

“Sometimes, my dear,” he says, waiting for Harley to turn her head before he continued, “I find that the best remedy after a stressful day is a cup of steaming tea.” He held a hand out. “Would you care to join me?” Harley looked at her best friend before reluctantly grabbing onto the butler’s hand. Deep breaths reached her ears and she was reassured that he would be just fine.

-----

It was dark and warm, and there was a dry, scratchy feeling to his throat. Peter cracked open his eyes before cringing, bright lights causing his eyes to throb in their sockets. He groaned. A pounding reached his ears and he belatedly realized that it was the sound of someone’s footsteps rather than the pounding of his own head.

“Pete?” Tony’s soft voice entered his ears, still sounding loud despite how quiet Peter knew he was trying to be. “You okay?” Peter didn’t want to nod, didn’t want to aggravate his head further so he hummed. However, he didn’t expect for it to hurt so badly. His voice cracked and it felt like his throat was bleeding from the inside out. He whined softly. “What? What’s wrong?”

“H-” he tried to say but the sound stopped short, “hurts.” A hand carded through his hair, feeling marvelously cool against his burning skin.

“Alright, Underoos. I’ll get you some water okay?”

“‘Kay,” he says, grimacing. It felt like ages before Tony got a glass of water to him. He helped Peter sit up a bit to take a few sips. He settled back against soft pillows after and he suddenly felt exhausted. “Hey Mis’r St’rk?”

“Yeah Underoos?” Peter snuggled into the blanket, sighing in contentment.

“I l’v y’u.” He didn’t stay awake long enough to hear Tony’s reply.

-----

The next time Peter woke up, he was conscious enough that he felt the extreme pain from the hole in his chest. The pain medication likely burned through his system too fast. He groaned loudly, his throat less scratchy than last time. Footfalls came to meet him as he attempted to sit up in bed.

“Mr. Stark, is that you?” Tony chuckled off to the side.

“So it’s back to Mr. Stark now, is it?”

“You shouldn’t sit up so quickly, gorgeous. You’ll only hurt yourself.” Peter squinted upwards into Dick’s azure eyes as the back of the bed rushed upwards to meet Peter’s back.

“Dick?” Tony snorted.

“I still can’t believe you chose that nickname yourself.” Peter could practically feel the oldest Wayne sibling rolling his eyes.

“I was young and I didn’t know what it meant, okay?” Tony chuckled along with some other people in the room. His Spidey Sense wasn’t tingling so it wasn’t anyone who wanted to harm him, at the very least. Peter finally opened his eyes fully, still slightly squinted against the light and saw that practically everyone was in the room.

Bruce, Tony, Stephen, Steph, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Harley, Slade, Alfred and another woman he knew nothing of.

“H-Hey guys,” he greeted. A glass of water was offered to him which he took gratefully. He tried looking away to drink, uncomfortable with all the stares on him. When he was done with about half of the glass, he turned back, placing it on a bedside table.

All was silent for a bit and Peter had to break the silence. He would literally die if there was no noise.

“What’s going on?” Damian straightened from his leaning position, uncrossing his arms in a way that made him seem broader and larger than he ever had before. Peter shrunk slightly as Damian came to tower over him, jade green eyes turning acidic.

“That,” he growled, pointing at the hidden bandage behind his hospital gown, “is what’s going on. When were you going to tell us that you were,” Damian paused, unsure how to phrase it exactly. “Special?” He decided upon the word. Peter grinned nervously.

“What do you mean special? I’m not special at all-” Tony cut him off, standing suspiciously close to Bruce. Or was Bruce standing suspiciously close to Tony? Stephen and Bruce were shoulder to shoulder, both behind Tony and looming over the genius, looking like his bodyguards.

‘That’s interesting,’ Peter noted before snapping back to reality.

“They know, Pete.” The chestnut haired man stared at his mentor.

“As in-” Tony nodded before he could finish.

“Yep. As in that.” All was silent for a moment.

“Well fuck.”

-----

Previous: Part 8

Next: Part 10

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 8: 

Peter’s nose ached, even through his suit. The smell of Gotham’s sewage tunnels were pungent and he almost wanted to just detach his nose from his face.

“Ugh,” he groaned as his legs moved against the water inside the tunnel, “I hate the sewers.” Slade, decked out in full Deathstroke costume, scoffed from in front of him above the swishing noises.

“Sweetheart, who likes sewers?”

“Homicidal clowns, obviously,” he muttered and he heard his partner chuckling from underneath his breath. “It’s nice that you find my suffering amusing, Slade.” The mercenary’s silhouette shrugged. It was too dark in the sewer to see much, even with superpowers.

“My revenge for keeping something so big from me,” Slade said, and through the blackness, Peter thought he saw the mercenary’s head turn to check on him.

‘Must be night vision cameras in his mask,’ Peter thinks before he replies.

“What was I supposed to do? Say to a guy I barely know, ‘Hey, my name’s Peter Parker and I have superpowers I got from a spider on a fieldtrip in another world?’” He could feel Slade pause, his outline halting against the current. “What?” He asked, confused.

“You’re from another world?” Peter tilted his head, then thought back, and realized that, yeah, he hasn’t told anyone that he’s from another world yet. One where they’re all fictional characters and definitely not in the mafia. Oops.

“Uh, I didn’t tell you that?” His voice was higher than usual and his nervousness was palpable. At least, to Slade it was.

“No, you didn’t.” They continued moving and Slade was silent for a while, just feeling the anxiety rolling off Peter in waves. “So,” Peter jumped a bit and Slade had to keep himself from laughing, “what was your world like?”

“Well, first off, there’s no Bruce Wayne or you or Dick Grayson or Tim Drake, or Jason Todd, or Damian Wayne, or anyone we know very well in my world. At least, they’re not there in real life.”

“What does that mean?”

“You guys are fictional characters in a comic book. A superhero comic book.” Slade rolled that over in his head.

“A comic book?” Peter nodded, then realizing that Slade can’t physically see him.

“Yup. Bruce is still the Batman, but a vigilante at night instead of a mob boss. His son’s are also the same. Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin, but vigilantes instead of the mob. Steph and Babs are there too, and so is Harley and the Joker. Now that I think about it, there’s not much here that’s different from canon besides their occupations.”

“Canon?” The water around their legs became still, no current flowing. Peter’s voice became a whisper.

“It’s what happens in the original storyline according to the original author or creators.” Slade hummed and pulled out his guns from their holsters.

“And how am I in this canon?” Peter shrugged.

“I don’t know. I don’t know the comic books that well. I just know that you’re Dick’s sworn enemy. At least, in the comic book world you were. Apparently here, you’re not.” Slade nodded and the atmosphere turned awkward.

“We dated. For a little while.” The mercenary, for some reason, felt the need to explain this to Peter. It just felt right to. “We broke up because of...differences.” Peter bobbed his head.

“Makes sense. The Wayne family is pretty intense.” Slade snorted.

“You would know, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” Peter didn’t dignify that with a response. His ears perked up as something came towards them.

Peter prepared himself, web shooters on the ready and Karen waiting for his command to activate Instant Kill Mode. Slade tensed himself, guns and swords at the ready. Through his super hearing, Peter could sense multiple bodies as they waded throughout the water. Heartbeats reached his ears. They were alive.

Peter, who was behind the mercenary, tapped Slade’s shoulder and reached for the wall next to him, hoisting himself up and climbing into the darkness of the ceiling, shadowed and hidden. The sounds came closer. The duo waited in their positions, both crouched and ready to fight whoever was on the other side of the corner.

Finally, the, who Peter assumed were enemies, people came and rounded the corner, Slade pounced forward, and Peter for a split second wanted to see the mercenary in action. That prompted him to hesitate, to wait and watch as Slade attacked. It wasn’t until he focused his eyes did he see that those people looked oddly familiar.

Too familiar.

One dodged out of the way as the mercenary lunged, pointing his gun at them.

“Sl-” Peter paused, cursing himself mentally.

‘No real names in the field, Parker,’ he scolded.

“Deathstroke!” He yelled from his position, sliding down the wall a little bit, though still cloaked by shadow. He saw Slade pause and five sets of eyes stared at him. “Stand down, w- you,” he corrected, “know them.”

It was then that Slade stepped back a bit and realized that Peter was right. They did know them. Slade growled.

“What are you doing here, pretty bird?”

“I assume the same reason you’re here, Slade,” Dick replied in a huffy tone, dressed in comfortable clothes (as everyone else was), domino mask secured on his face. He then directed his gaze towards where Peter was hiding.

“Who’s your friend?” Slade blinked.

“You mean-” he cut himself off and turned back to Peter. “They don’t know?” Peter thought it was enough and he dropped from the ceiling, flipping into a crouch on the ground. He stood up and met Slade’s expectant gaze, shaking his head.

Jason tilted his head, which donned a red helmet, eyes glowing. Peter could imagine Bruce having a similar expression of wary curiosity, same as his second adopted son. Both stayed silent, however, assessing this new and unknown person who was obviously working their once enemy. Little did they know, they knew this person better than they could ever imagine.

“Should we know them?” Tim’s voice was coated in curiosity, a similar mask on his face as Dick’s. Slade and Peter stared at each other for a bit before Slade answered.

“No.” The mercenary abruptly turned around and walked around the corner, leaving Peter to stare at his back. After a pause, Peter followed, steps a bit hesitant as he passed the Wayne family. He could too feel their gazes on his back as he knew Slade could feel his.

“Mute,” he whispered.

“Muted,” Karen replied. “How can I help, Peter?”

“From now on, until I say so, use the voice changer. I can’t have them knowing my identity just yet.”

“Of course,” she amiably agreed. Everything was quiet for the next few minutes. Peter could feel his heart rate spike, aware of the burning stares of Bruce and his family on his back as they moved throughout the sewage systems, Slade and Peter leading the pack.

After about another ten minutes or so of weaving through the tunnels, each corner they turned stinkier than the last (Peter’s nose was about ready to commit suicide, he swears), they finally reached a smaller, narrower tunnel that lead to a larger, less compact hallway with an opening at the end of it. Peter’s heart rate spiked again, hearing the sounds of the water from the sewers emptying into a large room.

“This is it,” he said to himself more than anyone, changer-deep voice echoing in a whisper around the sewer. The other’s with him could barely make it out over the sound of the sewage water running.

“What’s “it”?” Jason’s baritone matched his softness behind him. He tapped Slade’s shoulder, seeing the mercenary turn his head towards him when Peter moved past him, as quiet as a mouse.

“The Joker and his men. They're down there.” He turned his head back to catch the curious looks sent his way. He decided to answer the question in their eyes. “I can hear their heartbeats. There are about forty people in total.”

“Is Harley there?” Bruce’s voice penetrated the sound of the water, loud and clear even if he did his best to stay quiet. Peter waited a moment. He nodded.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. There’s a heartbeat that’s faster than everyone else’s. It’s not exactly a confirmation though.” Bruce grunted. Peter almost giggled. Even if he was a mob boss, he was still so much like how Batman was portrayed in the movies back home.

“Well I need better than that. I’m not sending in my team to save someone who may not even be there.” Peter nodded.

That made sense.

He placed a hand to the wall of the tunnel and crawled to the top, upside down and crouched to the ceiling. That position gave him the vantage point of being able to see over the edge of the waterfall and into the room of the sewage system. There, he found people in clown masks, each holding a weapon, staring at one singular man with green hair, who was looming over a feminine figure slumped in a chair.

‘Harley,’ his mind supplied and the eyes underneath the mask widened in horror. He let go of the ceiling and flipped, landing on the ground in front of everyone else silently.

“It’s them,” he confirmed. “Harley’s down there too.”

“Do you happen to know Harley Quinn well, uh-” Dick waved his hand towards Peter, an askance for his preferred alias.

“Spiderman. And yes, you could say that I do.” Slade snorted and Peter turned to him, the eyes in his suit manually narrowing. “Now let’s go. I would hate to waste any time.” However, before he could move forward, a large hand clasped his shoulder, halting his movement. It was tight and bruising, very unlike how any of them would handle him if they knew his identity. His head snapped towards them, a disgruntled expression on his face, obvious even through his mask. “What?” He hissed, his tone quite hard.

“We can’t just go in, guns blazing,” Tim said, a frown evident on his lips. “We need a strategy to take them as efficiently as possible without hurting any innocents.” Peter hated to admit it, but he was right. The idea of Harley being even more injured than she already was made his blood boil. So he grit his teeth and swallowed his pride.

“Fine,” he acquiesced, though very reluctantly, “what’s the plan?”

Tim looked around and noticed the multiple entrances into the sewers, all from different tunnels. He turned his head to meet his brother’s eyes, matching smirks lighting up their faces.

“So, Spiderman,” his voice was full of suggestion that made Peter wary, “what exactly can you do?”

-----

Loki and Stephen sat across from each other in front of the New York Sanctum’s window, open space to concentrate with Tony sitting between them, creating a sort of half circle. The setting sun outside cast the shadow of the window, causing the logo of the Sanctum to fall upon Both eyes were closed and everything was quiet.

Except Tony, who fidgeted like there was no tomorrow. Loki opened his eyes and glared in irritation.

“For the love of Valhalla, Stark, it would do you well to sit still!” The Norse god growled. Tony scowled in return but did as the trickster commanded. He was impatient to get to Peter. A large and gentle hand laid itself upon his knee.

Stephen’s eyes were sympathetic, a blue that seemed to calm his heart.

“We’ll find him and we’ll bring him home. But you need to calm down in the meanwhile. We’re doing all we can.” Tony sighed and nodded.

“Sorry. I’m just…” Tony trailed off.

“Worried?” The doctor’s eyes crinkled with a fond smile. Tony smiled back.

“Yeah. Worried.” The hand on his knee tightened and they leaned close together, leaning their foreheads against each other’s, the genius relaxing at the contact.

“How I landed the most caring and loving husband in the world, I’ll never know,” murmured Stephen, blue eyes connecting with brown. Tony huffed a laugh.

“And how I got married to the most understanding and patient man in the world, I’ll always wonder.” Stephen’s smile widened.

Unbeknownst them, Loki curled his lip and sneered in disgust. He loudly cleared his throat, interrupting the couple’s intimate moment with a roll of his eyes.

“If you two are done with your canoodling,” the word was said with an annoyed twitch of the nose, “I, for one, would like to get back to saving the son of Stark. Of course, if we have that much time to spare, however, please,” a lazy wave of the hand, “continue your intimacies.” Tony’s eye twitched and Stephen had to refrain himself from frowning, but both men separated themselves to their previous positions. Loki nodded with satisfaction. “Alright. I believe we are ready to start the ritual.”

Tony paused at that, a wary glint lighting his eyes.

“Ritual?”

“Yes, a ritual, Stark.” Noticing the look, Loki rolled his eyes. “Not to worry, dear, it is not dangerous.” Tony deflated at that. “Much,” the trickster god shrugged, barely managing to hold in his snicker at the genius’ stiffened shoulders.

“Anyway,” Strange cut in, sending the god a pointed look, “we’re ready then?”

“Indeed,” Loki affirmed, straightening his posture and plastered a smirk on his face. “Shall we begin?”

-----

“Remember, stick to the shadows.” Bruce’s voice on the comms were slightly staticy. It seemed there were signal blockers around the place, but fortunately, their tech was more advanced so the comms readily established a signal, though slightly iffy.

Karen was able to hack into their communicators, though it took a bit, and Peter was able to listen in and respond to the conversations going on. Slade took an extra set that Bruce had and they quickly split up, heading off in the sewers to find their own ways.

“Is everyone in position?” Tim’s voice sounded next to Peter.

“Affirmative,” Damian said, and the others echoed their confirmations. It was time.

“Alright, Spiderman,” Tim’s eyes swivelled over to Peter, “You’re going to aim for all of Joker’s followers and string them from the wall. When we give the signal that you’re done, we’re going to throw knockout gas on them. From there, we’re going to all slip down to the ground, take down Joker and save Harley. Sound like a plan?” Peter only nodded. “Alright. On my signal.”

It was a beat before Tim waved at Peter. From his angle, he webbed those closest to him, and pulled back, making sure that the web combination was able to snap over their mouths and mute them for a bit. He pulled them into the shadows and webbed them to the wall, unable to move or speak. Peter nodded to Tim, who whispered into the comms.

“Hood, Spiderman’s headed your way.” He started to crawl over the walls of the sewer, slightly rounded now that he feels it underneath his palms, towards Jason’s position.

“Tell him to hurry it up, princess.” Peter rolled his eyes under his mask. It was so something Jason would say.

“Calm it, Hood,” Bruce’s growl was deep and rough over the comms.

“Yes, daddy,” Jason mocked and Peter could hear Dick, Tim, and Slade chuckling behind the infamous Batman’s grunt.

As he arrived, he could see Jason leaning against the wall of the tunnel, his form impatient and taut. He swung himself inside, landing next to the leather clad man, and getting to work.

He repeated the process as he went along his group, visiting Dick, Damian, Bruce and Slade in their separate tunnels.

By the time he finished, all the goons that surrounded Joker and Harley were webbed up and silenced, no one but Harley noticing. Her eyes had widened slightly as soon as the first men disappeared but she kept up appearances, keeping her ex’s attention on her, even if it hurt.

“Alright,” Peter whispered, standing next to Slade, who leaned forward, one foot on a bar that connected to the floor, “move in.”

“Uh,” Dick’s voice interrupted the slight static of the comms, “I mean, Bruce usually gives the signal, but like pop off, I guess.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, practically feeling Slade’s amusement next to him. “Shut up, Slade,” he hissed.

“I never said anything, sweetheart.” Peter huffed and dropped himself down the wall, careful to avoid any water that fell out of it. He heard Slade clasp something onto the bar he was leaning his foot against earlier and slide down after him. In the distance he also heard the other follow suit, dodging any goons who were webbed to the wall.

After a minute or so, everyone was on the ground, silently moving towards the figure who was laughing maniacally in front of a severely injured Harley. Peter winced in his mask, his guilt flaring at the thought of Harley getting hurt and that he didn’t do anything about it. Joker reared back, winding up his arm to hit Harley once more before Peter had enough.

“Stop right there, Joker,” he growled as they all stepped into the light. The green haired menace paused and turned his head to make eye contact with him.

“Well, well, well,” he purred, a sick smile on his face. “What do we have here?”

“A rescue mission.” Peter’s voice, even through the modulator, was deep and furious. The Joker cackled, the thought of the rescue apparently hilarious. Peter’s body tensed just as Slade’s hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“And exactly who are you? Do you know him, Harley?” Harley, through her restraints and gag, shook her head, wincing when it aggravated her head injuries. Peter’s eyes darkened through his mask when he saw that flinch. “Why are you here then? You don’t know her.”

“Let’s just say, it’s in my best interest to help her out.”

“Hmm.” Joker’s hum was accompanied by a smirk, showing off his yellowing teeth and metal tooth caps. It made Peter shiver, visible through his suit. The clown’s smile widened when he spotted it. “Nervous?” A cackle. “You should be!” Bruce stalked his way to the front, shielding Peter behind him, his own 6’2 frame dwarfing Peter’s 5’6.

“And why is that?” His voice was hissed and low, obviously furious. A piercing chuckle sounded around the echoing walls of the sewers as Joker threw his head back, skinny form quaking with the force at which he was laughing.

“You’ll have to wait and see, Batsy!” Another laugh and Peter had had enough. He surged forward, grasping angrily at the clown’s pale throat. Despite him being about four inches taller than Peter, it didn’t stop him from lifting him far above his head.

“He asked you a question,” the vigilante growled, and while the Joker choked in his hold, he could see that his brown eyes held amusement. It made him want to hurt the man in his grip.

Before he could really do anything, however, a close yet still distant rumble caught his attention. He turned his head, trying to let his ears get a better frequency. The men behind him barely even reacted, though he could see that Slade tensed uncomfortably, probably in shock with

Peter showing violence that even he, himself, hadn’t thought he possessed.

Suddenly, Peter let go of the Joker, the clown falling to the floor, gasping for breath, and moved towards the back of the group, the Bat Boys moving out of his way as he did so. The rumble appeared again and this time he could even feel it beneath his feet. Little pebbles on the ground shook, letting him know that what he was hearing wasn’t just in his mind.

A minute passed before he knew that the others could hear it too. Joker finally stopped coughing before he let out another cackle. At this point, Peter was so tired of his behavior.

“What the fuck is that, Joker?!” He shouted as it got louder. Before the criminal could answer, however, a large bang sounded, causing Peter to jump, his Spidey Sense going haywire. The wall where the tunnels were located cracked as the bang rang again.

Something was trying to get through.

Everyone braced themselves as the wall began to crack even more, the lines travelling down and up the wall before it finally fell away, crumbling onto the ground with ease.

The crunch of bones and the squelch of muscle and meat tearing reached his ears as well, and Peter closed his eyes tightly, knowing that the Joker just sacrificed his men for no reason at all. The smell of blood wafted towards his nose as he looked up at the large sentinel, as tall as the ceiling, eyes glowing and, as far as he knew, acting without any person inside.

A clown’s face was painted on the face of the robot, chunky black armor encasing it. Its arms were large, guns seemingly substituted as hands, fingers connected to the edges of the large and flat head of the guns. Its legs were the same, though Peter had the inkling that it was just large to support the sentinel’s weight. It towered over everyone there. Peter and the others took their positions, crouching into fighting stances and getting ready for what was to come.

However, before anything else could really happen, the sentinel turned its head upwards, locking onto something before using its arms to punch upwards, breaking away the concrete that encased them and opening the sewer to the night air.

Above them, with lights that beamed down, was a small plane, someone with a clown mask hanging on the outside, legs brace inside the open hangar. The person waved to someone who was in the plane, likely the pilot and was handed a metal chain ladder with which he threw down into the open ceiling. It fell before the Joker, who looked up from his subservient position with a smug smirk. He grabbed onto the rungs, the metal creaking underneath his weight.

“So long, Batsy!” He saluted and then he was being pulled upwards and away, Bruce rushing forward and just missed grabbing onto the ladder. Peter stared up in horror. They had walked into a trap.

Before they could dwell on it, however, the ground shook again and he turned to see the sentinel’s attention being put onto them, now that its master was safely away.

Hurriedly, he rushed towards Harley, who’s blue eyes were wide with fear and ripped off her restraints, freeing her. She stood up quickly, though swaying on her feet a little and nodded her head in thanks. He nodded back and stepped closer, noticing her shrink back but didn’t comment on it.

“Harley, I need you to find a way out and go get help. Call on Steph and tell to bring some back up. Leave through there.” He pointed to a lone tunnel at ground level on the other side of the room. She glanced towards it before turning back to him, large blue eyes pleading.

“Will you be alright?” Her voice was soft but damn if he couldn’t hear his best friend’s voice through all the chaos.

“We’ll be fine. Now hurry! I don’t want you to get hurt!” She hesitated once more before dashing towards the tunnel and disappearing into the dark. He made sure she was gone before turning back and assessing the scene in front of him.

“Shit,” he heard someone curse, likely Jason, and he couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

‘Shit, indeed.’

The sentinel let out a screech that was just a couple decibels below giving him permanent ear damage. It then reached out, its arm extending (likely some sort of mechanical thruster) which landed right where the group was, all of them jumping out of the way at the last second. The fist retracted, leaving a large hole behind, crushed concrete falling off its hand like crumbs.

“Distract it!” Tim’s voice was clear through the mechanical whirrings of the robot. “I’ll try to find a weak spot!” Jason’s deep timber was also quite loud.

“Well, hurry up! We won’t be able to fight it for long!” They all attacked, respective limbs by different people, all trying to find their own weak spots. Its arms flailed around, Damian clutching onto one of them, hitting a spot where armor met dark, thick wiring while Dick ducked as one came flying towards him.

Jason used a grappling hook to pull himself and Slade onto its chest plate, both trying to pull away the armor with their respective weapons but having little luck.

Peter, determined to help them, ran around the feet of the sentinel, narrowly avoiding the crater in the ground and shot webs at one hand, the white substance wrapping around the appendage. He then shot multiple strands, each thick cords, at the walls and connected them to the webs that covered the robot’s arm. The cords persisted even as the sentinel pulled and yanked at it. He got to work with the other arm.

This was a bit more of a challenge. He could wrap the whole arm again since Damian had latched himself on it. Peter had no choice but to climb on there himself. He aimed and shot, then swung up, landing on the other side of the Damian, on the inside of its upper arm.

“I’m gonna use my webs so duck!” Damian, with a grunt and a glare, did as he was told and Peter did the same thing as the other arm, cloaking the limb with his homemade webs and chaining it to the walls, avoiding the large hole in the wall and connecting the webs to the more supporting palisade around it.

It was able to stop both arms from whirling around. Turning his attention quickly, Peter shot webs at both feet, rooting it in place. He celebrated in his head as he shouted towards Tim and Bruce, who were on the back of the Sentinel’s neck,

“You guys almost do- Woah!” The robot, with brute strength yanked one of his arms, the one Damian and Peter weren’t on, jerking itself with the movement. He then did the same with the other, Damian swaying dangerously with it.

Damian gritted his teeth and held on tighter, glaring enviously at Peter who held on without a problem.

“There has to be a way to turn this thing off!” Tim shouted back, obviously very irritated.

“We’re trying our best!”

“Well try harder!” Slade sounded strained. Peter looked down to see him dangling precariously off the chest plate while Jason was struggling equally to stay on.

‘God, this day just gets better and better,’ he thinks sarcastically.

“Hold on Deathstroke!” Letting go of one of his hands, he dispensed more webs to help keep Slade and Jason on the torso. “Just a second, Da- Ah!”

The arm they were on waved, some of the webs keeping it in place breaking off and loosening the hold. Peter grimaced, avoiding looking at Damian’s widened eyes (through his own domino mask) as he almost said his name.

‘No names in the field, Parker! Gah!’ The arm jerked violently, so much so that even Peter became dislodged, despite the stickiness of his powers.

Damian, however, fell off with a shout and Peter gasped before he shot a web past Robin’s falling figure, creating a net that would catch him. Peter didn’t wait to see if it caught him, already knowing it would. He instead focused on ripping apart the metal on the arm with his strength to faster find the important wiring.

It was harder than he thought and focused on his task, he didn’t realize his Spidey Sense called to him until it was too late.

“Watch out!” Slade’s tone was panicked but before he could notice, metal enclosed Peter, squeezing so tightly that Peter had to gasp for air, his ribs protesting at the pressure. The hand pinched him between the fingers, his back against the gun. Suddenly, his back felt very hot and his senses went haywire.

The gun was about to fire, he realized and thrashed around in the grip, desperately trying to escape. Even for his super strength though, the grasp was too tight and too strong and before he knew it, a white hot blast of pure energy hit against his back and shot him out of the sentinel’s hand, slamming him against the opposite side of the sewer.

He hit the gray wall, his bones seeming to bend against the wall before he fell down to the ground with a groan. His ears whined with feedback and his vision was hazy. His body collapsed against the cool floor and everything was sore. Still, he couldn’t leave his teammates.

‘Where's Harley and back up when you need them?’ He thinks dazedly as he slowly crawls towards the sentinel. He looked up, his vision clearing somewhat and noted that it had managed to throw off not only Dick and Damian, but Bruce, Slade, and Jason as well. They were all thrown in various directions, their bodies slumping pathetically to the ground before getting back up in an attempt to try again. That left Tim who was probably still at the back of the sentinel.

‘But not for long,’ he thinks as he watches the sentinel reach its arm back and grasp at Tim’s lithe body as it had once done with him. Instead of blasting Tim with energy, however, the robot throws him against the wall, next to where he was before.

Peter, in a pitiful attempt to restrain it once more, shot another web that connected its wrist to the wall but the sentinel only yanked its arm away, destroying the cord. Glowing eyes turned its attention to Peter who stared up in terror.

‘Oh shit,’ he thinks as the sentinel reared up its arm, aiming for him, the flat head of the energy blaster lighting up with white heat. ‘This is how I go out,’ he thinks miserably as a high pitched whine sang, signaling the gun’s ready. Peter closes his eyes, knowing that even his suit cannot save him from a blast to the front.

So he resigns himself to his fate, never seeing the bright orange and yellow sparks that appear in front of him in a circular motion. He never sees a portal open. He only sees black, preparing himself for the swift death to come.

But it never does. The blast sounds but it never reaches him. It, instead, is stopped. Peter blinks his eyes open in shock, not believing the scene in front of him.

“Hey, Underoos,” a gold and maroon metal mask retracts to show Peter warm brown eyes that he couldn’t ever forget, even if he wanted to. A smirk stretched across the billionaire’s face, goatee on point as always, and both power blasters on each hand holding the white energy blast at bay. “You miss me?”

-----

Previous: Part 7

Next: Part 9

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 7: 

There wasn’t much of a rush at first. Peter liked to think it was more shock than anything, but a part of him knew that this had happened far too often for him to really be in shock. It wasn’t until about ten to fifteen minutes after Commissioner Gordon had been taken into the manor did the flames of his rage finally burst.

Piper, ever the observant puppy, came up to him with her tail between her legs, noticing and responding to her master’s distress. Peter’s eyes softened as he ran a hand through her soft fur. Titus lumbered up to him not long after, resting his large snout onto Peter’s lap. He let out a strained chuckle.

“Thanks, Titus,” he said and received a lick on his hand from his large tongue. A presence approached from behind him.

“Parker,” a stiff voice said. Peter hummed, not really interested in turning around to face Damian. Peter could tell Damian was a little nervous, as his heart rate had elevated a bit. “Are-” a pause came, “are you alright?” There was a note of reluctance in Damian’s tone as if he wasn’t sure he should be there. Peter let his lips twitch up slightly.

“Fine.” Damian came to stand in front of Peter. “Well, as fine as I can be.” They were silent for a while, before Peter heard heavy footsteps lumbering towards the room they were in.

“Hey Bruce,” he called out noncommittally. The footsteps stopped before the door.

“How are you holding up, Peter?” The deep voice of the head of house asked. Peter shrugged, not really caring if Bruce could see or not. He probably noticed though.

“Like I told Damian, as good as I can be.” Bruce entered the room, coming to stand next to Damian, both men looming over Peter like it was their job to do so.

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Can you tell me where Harley is?” A regretful look came upon the man’s handsome face, though his son’s expression was as ambiguous as ever.

“If I could, Pete, I would. But I don’t.” Peter scoffed, running a hand through chestnut curls with agitation.

“So there is something the great Batman doesn’t know,” he mumbled to himself, though he could tell that Bruce and Damian heard it. Both men froze, and while their faces remained unreadable, he could see the surprise coursing through their eyes.

Bruce’s voice was quiet, though Peter could hear the strain.

“How did you know?” Peter levelled them with a cool look, and despite not planning to reveal that he knew at that exact moment, he didn't think to feel bad about it.

“I know I’m not a detective, Bruce, but give me some credit. I can figure things out on my own, even if you didn’t make it so blatantly obvious.” Father and son straightened up, from shock, wariness, or pride, Peter doesn’t know. Peter just knew that they had many things to talk about so both stalked out of the room, footfalls heavy and rushed as the door banged closed on their way out. It was another five minutes before Peter retired to his own room, Piper and Titus following from behind.

-----

“Knock knock,” Dick’s voice called out, breaking Peter’s train of thought. Peter pushed himself into a sitting position, giving the handsome man a forced grin.

“Hey Dick,” he greeted softly. “What’s up?” The light seemed to bend around him in the doorway, making him seem like some sort of angel. In reality, Peter knew he was far from that.

“I heard you knew.” Peter gave a one shouldered shrug.

“I figured it out pretty early on.” Dick leaned on the doorway.

“When?” Peter thought for a moment, calculating.

“I knew you weren’t normal when I met you. I didn’t really realize that Bruce, Batman I mean, was mafia until I came here.” Silence commenced and Dick seemed to hesitate before entering the room, dark and warm.

“You-” The eldest Wayne paused, “you won’t do anything will you?”

The unspoken ‘you won’t tell?’ was quite obvious.

“Not unless you do anything in front of me. Otherwise, I won’t have proof.” Dick’s shoulders slumped before he came forward to sit on the bed.

“You realize now, that we can’t let you go, right?” Peter didn’t react to that statement.

“Would you have let me go even when I didn’t know you guys were mafia?” A tense moment passed before Dick’s shoulder came out of their slumped position, shaking with silent laughter. Peter already knew the answer before he even asked the question.

“No,” Dick admitted, and while it wasn’t a surprise to Peter, he had no idea why he was so gutted upon hearing the admission. Maybe it was his conscience kicking in. “No, I suppose not. You know, gorgeous, it’s so weird.”

“What is?”

“I’ve killed more than my fair share of people,” Peter’s chest ached but he didn’t otherwise react, “but I’ve never had anyone make me feel the way you do.” Peter leaned back onto his hands, his arms bearing the weight of his torso and his heavy heart.

“You realize that makes you like a psychopath, right Dick?” At that, the look on the other man’s face became pensive.

“More like a sociopath. That’s what I would characterize me as. I saw my parent’s murder, you know.” The sudden change in subject gave Peter a bit of whiplash and he did not know this. Peter knew that Bruce Wayne had acquired Dick Grayson when his parents died from a nasty fall. He also knew that Dick Grayson watched them fall off that platform.

He always thought it was hard on him, considering circumstances and all, but then he remembered that this was not the same Dick Grayson from the comics, but darker, a shadow version of the light that Dick was supposed to be. “I saw those men sabotage the ropes. I could’ve stopped it,” the look in Dick’s blue eyes was intense, as if testing Peter, “but I was so damn curious.” Peter licked his lips, suddenly dry. His hands started to sweat and his heart thudded with a ferocious force in his ribcage.

This is not where he saw this conversation going and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Curious? About what would happen?” The blue eyes bore into him a little while longer before looking away and Peter felt like collapsing against the mattress, the weight gone from his body, no longer paralysing him.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. I was young and I didn’t always know how things worked so I was curious about what would happen if those men cut the ropes and my parents still used them. I felt bad afterwards. They were genuinely good people, Pete. That’s why I exacted my revenge on the people who did that to them.” Their gazes met as Peter stared incredulously at the other man. The intention of his stare didn’t need to be said.

“They were still my parents, Peter. It felt right.” Peter scoffed, turning away from Dick completely, though the feel of those blue eyes burning into him didn’t fade away.

“Felt right after you used them in some sort of sick experiment like they were lab rats.”

“Well-” Dick started to justify it, but Peter knew that even if it seemed like the most logical explanation, it would still be wrong.

“Well nothing, Dick. They were people.”

“So?” Peter’s head snapped over his shoulder to meet Dick’s glowing eyes. At least, they seemed to be glowing.

“So?! That’s all you have to say?!” The full gravity of Peter’s situation dawned on him. The person he was sitting with, while not completely dark and vicious, was morally grey and would not hesitate to do whatever would benefit him and all that he cared about.

“People are expendable,” the casualty with which Dick said that was like a knife to the gut, “they come and go and it’s natural. Our history precedes us and our kind, from the slums and the impoverished, are known to be those who either kill for survival or for fun, but killers nonetheless. Times may change, Peter, and so will civilizations,” Dick stood up from the bed, the springs beneath him creaking as they righted themselves, “but humans will always stay the same. Till the very end.”

Peter let go of the sheets, his grip starting to rip through the seams. Instead, he clenched his fists hard, back towards the door and Dick, his face shadowed in the darkness.

“This is the world that you’ll be living in from now on, Pete. Harley was already living in it before you came along. She got used to it. She survived. Now, it’s your turn. And I hate to do this, bambi, but behave,” Peter flinched at the warning note in his tone, similar to Tony’s when Peter did something in the lab but with a much more vicious intent, “before my family and I are forced to do anything drastic.”

“You’d kill me?” There was a pause before Dick answered. It made Peter sick to know that Dick had to hesitate. It meant that he could if he wanted to. At least, he could if Peter didn’t have his powers. Dick stood up and headed to the door as he responded.

“No, we don’t kill anyone unless we really have to. You’re close with a lot of our family and our associates so that gives you rapport, but don’t think for a second that we won’t do something if you force our hand.” The older man paused for a second, hand on the knob.

“On another note, it would probably be best if you didn’t leave the house for a few days. Just for, you know. Safety purposes.”

‘Mine or yours?’ The vigilante thought silently before asking,

“So you’re locking me in here?” The golden halo of light that bent around Dick made it seem as if his eyes were glowing as he looked back at his guest-turned-prisoner.

“If you want to call it that. You still have free reign of the manor, bambi, and all of its features, but for now, leaving is out of the question. At least until my family and I get this situation figured out.”

‘What’s there to figure out?’ It wasn’t as if he was someone important. They already have the police under their control, and it was a lengthy process getting other government factors into play, like the FBI. If he were to do that, he’d have to play the long game and Peter truthfully didn’t know how much time he had left.

In his thoughts, the younger man didn’t see the way Dick’s hand tightened on the knob of the door or how his shoulders tensed slightly; didn’t see the way the blues of Dick’s eyes glinted guiltily before he turned away. Peter was silent as Dick left, closing the door until only a slight crack revealed a sliver of light into the room.

Of all the Wayne family, he didn’t think Dick would be the one to deliver the threat. He thought Jason or Damian would be much better at it. However, he is aware of how he looks and they probably thought it would be best to have someone closer with him, and known to be softer than his brothers.

‘Yeah,’ Peter thought, ‘Dick was definitely the best person to send in.’

And now he was left with a dilemma. On one hand, Peter, who had entered this kind of life when he donned that red and blue suit, was on intimate terms with this lifestyle. He knew what it was like and was familiar with it.

On the other hand, he was on the opposite side of the Wayne family (at least, in this universe). He could not condone what they have done, are doing, and will do, even in the name of fighting against crime. So to sit idly by while they wreak this kind of havoc on streets like Gotham’s, which are already very heavily shrouded in crime and darkness, weighs heavily on his heart and on his mind.

“But I’m already so deep in,” he sighed to himself, his brows furrowing together before he perked up in realization.

‘Of course!’ Peter remembered the lesson that the Black Widow herself, Natasha Romanoff taught him a couple of years back.

“Make the best of your situation,” she said sternly just as they were about to be deployed on a mission, “and survive to the best of your ability. This life is messy, spiderling, and horrible. Roll with the punches. And remember,” her eyes were unreadable, Peter remembered, and very serious, “there is always opportunity in chaos.”

“There is always opportunity in chaos!” All Peter needed to do was to resolve this situation as best he could. That would mean going in himself and dismantling the Joker and his goons before the Wayne family ever have to get involved. Easier said but Peter’s done more difficult things. Then, he would need to speed the process of getting home. No more sitting on his ass and waiting for Dr. Strange to find him. He needed his own solution. Again, easier said than done but he would deal with his problems one at a time.

For now, he would deal with the one most prominent. Peter marched over to his bag, sitting by the desk and reached in, pulling out a small phone, frequently referred to as a burner. Typing in a number that he knew could be reached by, he sent a little text and waited for a reply.

It was time for preparations.

-----

Tony was hyperventilating.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked with terror in his tone, horror displayed plainly on his face. The boy er- man he had come to think of as a son was stuck in what was supposed to be a fictional world and had multiple men, all of whom looked like they could crush Peter, are chasing him because they like him.

‘What has the world come to?’ Stephen wrapped a supportive arm around his husband, who leaned into the touch, still as horrified as ever. It was about five minutes before Tony had had enough.

“Alright.” He stepped away from Stephen’s embrace. Stephen looked confused.

“Alright?”

“Alright,” Tony repeated. “I am getting my son back, if it’s the last thing I do. How do we do that?” The doctor was quiet for a moment.

“Alright,” he agreed (though it was a total overuse of the word ‘alright,’). “Let’s do this.”

-----

Peter scaled the wall, making sure that no one was looking. He had hacked into any street cameras nearby through a deployed gauntlet earlier and made sure that they were unable to spot him. Just in case someone had come looking. It was never a bad idea to make sure.

Not long after Dick had left his room, Peter locked it behind him and deployed his whole suit, putting it on stealth mode. After grabbing his backpack, he left through the lone window, making sure to be as quiet as he could be. It wasn’t hard considering his bone density lowered after the bite.

He crawled his way down to the ground and enabled cloaking, knowing that the Waynes were paranoid bastards. They probably had multiple contingency plans in place in case of an invader or many other things. From there, he ran towards the city at full speed, thankful for all the training he had gone through with the Avengers and Mr. Stark’s idea of having used the blueprints of Shuri’s Sneakers design and implementing them into the suit.

Everything was a blur as Peter ran at full speed (at his full speed, he can keep up with Bucky and Steve, and with time, probably pass them) and by the time he reached the edge of the city, he started swinging with his webs.

It was exhilarating to be doing this again. Peter found himself with a genuine grin on his face, a rarity since becoming stranded in Gotham. The familiarity of flying through the air at breakneck speeds, his backpack bouncing behind him as he grips onto the webs that he manufactured himself. The wind passed him by and it was like he was back in New York, saving people from the crimes of the night. Oh, how he missed it. He missed everything about it. New York was home, after all. Home.

‘I want to go home,’ he thinks morosely, severely lonely and depressed. The smile slid right off his face. His thoughts were silent the rest of the trip. It was about ten minutes before he landed on the roof of the Captain’s. No one was on the roof, as far as he could sense.

‘Good,’ he thought as he dropped down and retracted the suit around him. Walking towards the edge of the building, Peter crouched down and set his backpack onto the ground, bringing out a notebook and a pencil while waiting for his soon-to-be partner in crime. He dangled his feet over the side of the building as he wrote down what he was thinking.

About five minutes later, Peter could hear the strong heartbeat of Slade, and to the untrained (read: un-superpowered) ear, silent footsteps.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” Slade said quietly. Peter turned at the sound of his voice and gave him a small smile. Slade looked at him with a curious and attentive eye.

“Hey,” Peter’s voice came out slightly hoarse. Slade’s eye narrowed minutely, his leather jacket squeaking as he crossed his arms (they bulged out and holy shit, this is not the place, Peter!).

“What happened?” Peter let out a small laugh. He must’ve noticed my red rimmed eyes.

“Always straight to the point.”

“Did someone hurt you?” Slade’s tone was dangerous. The smile was off his face in an instant and he started to shake his head vigorously.

“No! Not at all!” The mercenary didn’t look convinced. Peter pursed his lips and in an effort to be sincere, he stood up and walked over to Slade, reaching and grasping his gloved hand in Peter’s own. The difference was rather stark. Slade was huge, afterall.

‘Not just in that one way,’ Peter’s inner thoughts seemed to smirk. Peter shook his head of that thought before a blush could spread over his cheeks.

“Slade,” he says, “I promise you that no one hurt me. However,” a blue eye sharpened at that, “someone did hurt one of my friends and kidnapped the other.”

“The clown girl?” Peter scowled and slapped Slade’s arm (as gently as he could).

“She is not a clown,” Slade raised an eyebrow (over the eye not in the patch). “But, yes, Harley. They kidnapped her and put Babs into the hospital.” The other eyebrow shot up, making a look of surprise.

“The Commissioner’s daughter? Betting the Waynes loved that.”

“Oh yeah, they’re over the moon,” Peter deadpanned. “The problem is I need help tracking Harley down.” Slade was silent for a moment.

“The Waynes wouldn’t help?” Peter shook his head, chestnut curls bouncing with the motions.

“It’s not that. They don’t need to be involved in this.”

“They’re going to be involved anyways. Aren’t you living at their house? Your friend was even there.” Peter let go of Slade’s hand, which seemed to twitch and hesitate, sighing.

“This will be faster. They’re in the limelight constantly. While I don’t doubt their investigative prowess, it’ll be harder for them versus, say, you. Also, they found out that I know. You know, about them?” The mercenary nodded in understanding.

“Okay.” Peter paused, hoping it meant what he wanted.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Slade voiced his assent. “What do you need me to do?” Peter thought for a moment. He is pretty sure he can trust Slade. At the very least, if things truly go to shit, he has another home (world) to go to (though that really defeats the purpose of Uncle Ben’s words). Despite being a mercenary, Slade has yet to do anything that would make Peter deem him untrustworthy. It was also a gut feeling. Slade wouldn’t betray Peter.

“Slade,” Peter called, looking up at the taller man through long and dark eyelashes, “I can trust you, right?” Slade eyed the really innocent yet somehow sultry look.

‘Damn kid really knows how to work me,' he thinks.

“Yeah,” Slade nodded. “Yeah, you can, sweetheart.” The younger man was silent for a moment before he finally decided.

“Good. Because what I’m about to show you is on a need to know basis. I’m counting on literally no one believing you unless I let them know too.” At this, Slade cocked his head.

“Let me know what?” Peter didn’t answer the question. Instead, he started packing up his stuff, putting his laptop and notebook back into his backpack.

“First, let’s go see a certain someone.”

-----

While Slade drove to the hospital, Peter had checked the security cameras around the area before going in. Commissioner Gordon had gone home for the night as visiting hours were over. The father was obviously very distraught at being separated from his injured child but not even Bruce Wayne could tell sleep-deprived nurses and hospital staff what to do.

“Okay, pull off here,” Peter directed Slade onto a road that was a little ways away from the side of the hospital. This was where the least amount of security cameras were and the cameras that were there, he had made fabricated footage to insert into the tapes, made easy by Mr. Stark’s suit and Ned’s hard and software that they integrated.

“Where’d you even learn how to do that?” Slade asked as he side-eyed Peter hacking into the cameras. Peter shrugged, a small smirk curving his lips. He was finally able to show that he is more capable than he seems. Slade had snorted at his lack of an answer, apparently amused.

They exited the car, making sure to grab their things. Slade tried to grab all the equipment in the back but Peter managed to convince him to leave it; that it’d be heavier than they needed.

“Hey, I said I trusted you. You said I could, right?” Slade seemed to know what Peter was going to say but indulged him anyway (very much so exasperatedly, but still).

“Yes, I said you could, sweetheart.”

“Then I want you to trust me.”

“I do,” Slade said without hesitation. Peter felt a rush of warmth through his chest before brushing it aside.

‘It’s not the time for this right now,’ he scolded himself.

“Then please trust me when I say that we do not need all that shit in the back.” The mercenary scowled.

“That’s my equipment, sweetheart. I regularly need and use that ‘shit in the back,’” he said with air quotes. Peter snickered at him.

“Well, don’t worry, okay? I know what I’m doing.” Slade had a dubious look on his face, though his expression barely changed since he met Peter on the rooftop. Finally, the taller man’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Fine,” there was a heavy and exasperated note in his tone, “but if we end up dying, I’m going to blame you.” Peter’s doe brown eyes scrunched up into crescents as he smiled. A slight dimple showed and Slade suddenly forgot what he was thinking about.

“Don’t worry, Slade. I’ll protect you.” Peter was pretty sure even the cameras could pick up the loud snort that came from Slade, even though they were audio silent.

-----

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Slade whisper-shouted as they approached the side wall of the hospital. Peter glanced behind him before looking back up at the wall of the hospital. Nearest the top floor is where Peter knows where Barbara’s room is. They’ll need to climb to the top. Peter smirked.

“I’m getting ready to climb.” Slade blinked.

“With what?! We left all the equipment in the car!” Peter shrugged with a look on his face that said ‘and?’ Suddenly, the younger man’s face got serious. “Alright Slade. What I’m about to show you is a secret. Harley doesn’t even know. For now, I want to keep it that way.” Peter waited until Slade nodded in agreement before rolling up his sleeve and rotating the wheel on his watch. The top screen popped upwards and he pressed down on it, activating his suit.

Peter felt the nanobots climb all over him, covering him from head to toe. It still retained the new car smell that Peter remembered telling Mr. Stark. He spread and clenched his hands, revelling in the feel of the suit back on his skin and the knowledge that he could now use his powers again without holding back. He looked towards Slade, ignoring the wide eye that was directed at him and held out a hand. “Let’s go.”

It was a few moments before Slade physically shook himself out of the little funk he was in and took Peter’s hand without a word, though his stance was wary. While holding Slade’s hand, Peter turned around and placed his large hand onto his shoulder.

“Alright,” he said with utter seriousness in his voice, “get on.” Slade was silent again.

“What?!” Peter rolled his eyes and faced the mercenary. He stepped forward and took both his hands, turned back around and let them fall onto his shoulders.

The spider themed superhero reached back and grabbed Deathstroke by the unders of his knees and surged upwards, lifting the mercenary onto his back. Slade’s torso fell over Peter’s head and for a moment, Peter was sure that the man on his back fell through the sheer shock of someone Peter’s height and weight (literally half of Slade’s) lift someone like him.

“Okey dokey. Hold on,” he sang and jumped about 20 feet into the air and onto the building, revelling in the catch in Slade’s breath as he clung onto Peter with a tight grip as Peter stuck to the wall with his feet alone.

“What the actual fuck.” The shock in his partner’s statement made Peter laugh.

“I’ll explain later, okay? Right now, we have a job.”

“You’d better,” he’d heard Slade grumble. It only made him laugh more.

-----

“What happened?” Bruce asked his first son as he descended the stairs. Dick had that steely look in his eyes, the one he had when he was forced to do something drastic, and it made Bruce antsy. There wasn’t much that could faze his eldest but it would’ve been bad if he had that certain glint in the blues of his eyes.

“I told him.” While the Wayne head had an inkling about what Dick told the little object of all his son’s affections (and the platonic affections of his unofficial daughter), he preferred if Dick told him straight.

“What exactly did you tell him?”

“I told him about my parents and that he should get used to this life because he’s in it now.” Dick looked directly at his adoptive father.

“Does he have to be though? I don’t want him to be.” Bruce sighed.

“It can’t be helped, Dick. He knows.” Bruce noticed something. “What else did you tell him?” His son was silent for a moment, realizing he was caught. Of course, Bruce and everyone else in his family know him better than anyone else in the world. No one else could get close enough anyway.

“I said that he shouldn’t leave the manor for a while. At least until we figure this out.” Bruce smirked at his son, eyes full of knowing.

“There isn’t anything to talk over, Dick. He can walk free if he doesn’t have any proof. You’re just trying to keep him here longer.” The eldest Wayne child stiffened before slumping.

“Before he inevitably leaves us.”

“Is that what’s going to happen?” Damian came from nowhere, signature scowl on his face. His other brothers followed him as they, too, showed similar expressions of displeasure.

“He has no proof of anything and he'll be staying for a few days. What more can we ask for?” Jason crossed his arms over his massive chest, though looking impossibly small next to his youngest brother.

“His forgiveness is too much. He won’t forgive us and we don’t expect him to, Dick.” Tim was right, however Dick couldn’t help but fight back.

“He knew the entire time, guys. He knew we were shady and the way we are.” Damian snorted.

“Anyone with eyes and half a brain can, Grayson. It’s not that impressive.” Damian gestured to each of them. “We don’t exactly hide it.”

‘Though people can be oh so dumb,’ the youngest thinks derisively. Bruce hummed, effectively silencing all other voices in the room.

“Though,” he said, tone thoughtful, “he could be useful. He’s helped Tim with countless things and Dick has a point. If he knew we were dangerous, why didn’t he stay away?” Everything was still silent. “I think it’s worth a shot to convince him to stay.” Damian scoffed.

“That may be, father, but his one reason to stay is now gone. How do you propose we convince him then? Save her, and then extort his good will into staying because we saved his best friend?” The head of the Wayne household smirked. His sons never failed him.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Tim mused, a pondering expression on his face. Jason grinned with a feral ferocity.

“I’m down.” The bass in his voice was rumbling. He really liked the idea. Dick smiled.

“It also involves tracking down the asshole who did this to Babs, so hell yes. You know, Buce, Commissioner Gordon is going to want to get in on this too right?” Bruce nodded, hair flopping as he does so.

“Of course he is welcome to join. He’s like family. So,” he made eye contact with each of his sons and Alfred, who had snuck himself in a while ago, “why don’t we get to work?”

It was phrased as a question but everyone in the room knew it wasn’t one. The ravenous and vengeful looks in their eyes were enough to make even Lex Luthor anxious.

-----

The beep of the EKG machine broke Peter’s heart as he and Slade silently entered the dark hospital room. Through his suit’s lenses, he could see the basic outlines of things with their heat signatures. People on the night shift were passing by their door but other than that, no one but him, Slade, and an unconscious Babs were in the hospital room. Peter carefully let Slade slide off his back, taking care not to make noise.

“Stay there,” Peter whispered and headed forward, evading the efforts of his partner to grab him and pull him back to his hulking figure. He had identified a lamp and crept up on it, pulling on the little metal string, illuminating the room.

Something sailed towards his head and his Spidey Sense went crazy. He caught it in mid-air, instincts quick and precise. He turned around and observed the object thrown. A knife lay in his hand, bright against the light of the lamp. Barbara Gordon lay in bed, eyes open with caution and determination, switching between looking at him and Slade, hand in the air.

“Who-” she wheezed, coughing heavily, “who the fuck are you?” Peter, in a sign of goodwill, placed the knife gently onto the ground and held up his hands in a surrender.

“It’s okay, Babs, it’s just me.” The helmet retracted to show his face, much to the red head’s surprise. “It’s Peter.” The shock in her blue eyes made him chuckle a bit. It almost made him want to see Slade’s face when he had found out earlier.

“What the fuck Peter. I could’ve killed you!” Peter smiled knowingly.

“No,” he said softly, “you wouldn’t have.” She looked on in shock while Slade stood by silently. Peter approached the bed, the suit retracting completely as the nanobots slid smoothly back into his watch. “How are you?”

Babs scoffed.

“I’ve been better,” she said sardonically, though her eyes were alight with pain. Peter’s face softened at her obvious hurt.

“Yeah. But hey,” a charming smile stretched across his face, “at the very least, you’re as beautiful as ever.” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes (a few of them trailed down her face), and she let out a wet laugh.

“I’m never going to walk again,” came a whisper but the words were no less devastating. Peter felt like he was punched in the gut and reached out to grab her hand, which squeezed his back with a ferocity that belied her devastation.

“That’s what the doctors said?” She nodded, obviously choked up. Peter clenched his teeth and looked over at Slade, only to find him staring at the scene in front of him with an observing eye. “Well, don’t worry. Slade and I are going to get to the bottom of this.”

“But, I thought Dick and Bruce were going to do that?” Was it okay to lie? He’s gotten better at it. Natasha is a really good teacher.

“We’re helping,” he lied straight through his teeth, aware of Slade stiffening on the other side of the room. Babs scoffed again.

“If that was the case, then why are you sneaking in when you can literally just walk in through the doors?” Damn Babs for being so smart. He quickly came up with an excuse.

“Because visiting hours are over and I’d rather not have my name on the visitor logs?” Barbara shrugged, wincing at the pain that the movement brought.

“Fair enough.”

“I just want to know what happened and anything that can help us figure out where Harley is.” A pained look took over Babs’ expression.

“I’m so sorry, Peter. If only we didn’t go out.”

“That’s not your fault Babs. You don’t have to feel guilty. However, I would appreciate it if you could tell us what you two were doing that night.” Barbara sighed, tucking stray strands of ginger hair behind an ear.

“She was contacted by her ex about a week ago and said he had wanted to apologize. He sent an address and told her to come and meet him. She didn’t want to go alone and she didn’t want you in danger so she asked me to come.” Tears sprang to Babs’ eyes. It was jarring to see someone usually so put together break down. “It was obviously a trap but we thought we could handle it between us two. We were wrong.”

Peter was quiet for a while. While he could be mad at Barbara and Harley for not telling him, he was also mad at himself.

‘Why didn’t I tell them about my powers right away? Maybe if I did, this all could’ve been avoided.’ Harley was yet another person on the growing list that Peter could not save. Guilt weighed heavily on his chest and it was likely that it weighed the same on his redheaded friend’s as well. He reached out and clasped her shoulder with a bare hand.

“It’s not your fault, Babs. Slade and I will get her back, so don’t worry,” he said softly. Blue eyes swiveled to meet his doe brown.

“How can you be so forgiving, Pete?” It came out as a whisper but her heartbreak was easily identified. Peter smiled sadly.

“Despite what you all think, I am familiar with situations like these. Now,” he came closer to the bed, “was there anything at all that could hint about where the Joker took Harley?” Her eyebrows pulled together and her expression became pinched. It was about a minute before she spoke again.

“I-I don’t remember much. A lot of pain, but,” she swallowed thickly, “as I was passing out, I heard someone say something about the sewers. It’s all pretty blurry after that but I definitely remember it.” Peter’s brows furrowed and he looked back at Slade who shrugged. The chestnut haired boy rolled his eyes.

‘So he’s no help.’ He sighed. ‘Looks like it’s come down to this.’ He pushed his sleeve back to reveal his watch. Peter tapped on the screen and let it go into unlock mode.

“Karen,” he said, and it was only a second before the AI that Mr. Stark had created for him, the AI that he hasn’t talked to in a month responded.

“Hello Peter,” her odd voice answered, and while it could be surprising to others, it only served to give him comfort. “What can I do for you?”

“Can you remotely hack into the Gotham City Hall’s record system?” Peter made eye contact with Babs’ wide eyes and he then looked over to his partner, and saw his narrowed eye. He had a lot of explaining to do.

“Alright, I’m in. What do you want me to look for?”

“Look for the most updated, recent plans and blueprints for the Gotham sewer system.” Another minute before a hologram popped from his watch, the wide prints of the sewers showcased obviously.

“Here. Is there something you would like me to look for specifically?”

“Yeah. Any spaces that can be used as a base of operations, where about 50 people can work?” The hologram zoomed into a spot on the blueprints.

“After analyzing the data, I believe the place you’re looking for is right here. It is directly underneath the Gotham Harbor.” Peter looked towards Barbara.

“You think she can be there?” The woman sputtered before answering.

“Uh- Yeah. Yeah, that can definitely be it. Um, Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“What was that?” Peter gave a small smile.

“This is my AI, Karen. Karen, this is Barbara Gordon and Slade Wilson. They’re friends of mine.”

“Nice to meet you,” was her cordial answer.

“Awesome,” Barbara breathed.

-----

“I’ll come visit you after this is over okay?”

“Wait, you’re not going to do this yourselves, are you?” Peter paused, briefly looking down at Slade who had made it to the ground safely.

“We’re working with-”

“Peter.” Her interruption shut him up quickly. She knew.

“I know that you’re not working with them.” A pause.

“Is it that obvious?”

“What happened?” Another pause of silence lapsed.

“I found out. About them. And their jobs. The one not known.” To Peter’s superhuman ears, he heard her breath being caught in her throat.

“And then what?”

“I told him that I have no proof. He told me that I should stay in the manor for now.”

“Dick did?” Peter nodded. “And you didn’t listen?” He smirked over his shoulder, getting ready to drop. There was only so much time. Who knew what the Joker would do to Harley if he didn’t stop him.

“Have I ever really been one to listen?” She gave a small chuckle.

“I guess not.” Peter’s eyes softened.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m more capable than you know.” The smile on her face matched his.

“Good luck.”

On the way back to the truck, Slade was quiet. Peter could tell he was also brooding. It wasn’t until they were safely back in the vehicle that he broke the silence.

“Slade, I know that was a shock, but you have to understand, I couldn’t tell any-” The mercenary held up a large hand. Peter quickly quieted.

“Look, sweetheart. You don’t owe me anything. Don’t get so caught up. Plus, we can talk about this later, when this is all over. For right now, focus on the mission.” Peter nodded, a contemplative look on his face as Slade started the engine and pulled out of the area. The superhero pulled up the camera feed and began rolling it again, wiping any evidence that they were ever there. Then, a thought occurred to him.

“Hey, Slade?” The mercenary hummed in reply.

“What if we don’t make it?” His answer was instantaneous.

“We’ll make it.”

“But-”

“We’ll make it!” His voice was rough and the statement came out in a growl. Peter clenched his teeth.

“You never know,” he said quietly. Slade shook his head.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” He turned his head to look Peter in the eyes. His one eye was dead serious and assured. “I promise.”

It wasn’t for another few minutes that Peter responded.

“Alright,” he nodded, “I believe you. Now. Let’s go beat some clown ass.”

Slade’s laugh could be heard a mile away.

-----

Tim paged everyone in the family, who all rushed down to the Cave, save for Dick, who had gone to talk to Peter.

“I found where they are.” Damian crossed his arms, sneering.

“And how exactly did you do that, Drake?” Tim rolled his eyes.

“I highly doubted that the Joker would be above ground, since we have influence over a majority of Gotham. Joker lost his territory to Cobblepot earlier last year, after his encounter with Jason and they hate each other. So I was stumped as to where I could find him. Then, I remembered the underground of Gotham, consisting mostly of sewage systems. However, within those systems, I can only count a handful of places where he could hide. I’m betting he’s there.” Damian scoffed, green eyes hard.

“All conjecture.” His older brother shrugged, hair flopping.

“Maybe, but we don’t have much time. Besides, my instincts are almost never wrong. You know this, Demon Spawn.” Jason snorted.

“Alfred’s kitchen would seem to disagree.” Semblances of smiles appeared on everyone’s face, except for Tim’s, who sported a pout.

“How was I supposed to know that the spoon was in the bowl?!”

“Alfred told you, like, five times, Timmers.”

“It was 7 in the morning! I hadn’t had my coffee! It’s not my fault.” A huff.

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

“UGH!”

-----

“Peter?” Dick knocked on the door, voice and eyes soft. “Peter, are you there?” Silence met his questions. “We think we’ve made headway on where Harley is.” Still no reply. “Alright, well, I just wanted you to know.” Hurt was mirrored in his tone and Dick hesitated at the door, wanting to just burst in but he knew he couldn’t. He had already been cruel (any act of aggression against Peter was already labelled cruelty) to him earlier and didn’t want to fan the flames. “Call us if you need us.” The ‘call me if you need me specifically,’ was unsaid but understood.

Too bad he was talking to an empty room.

“Did Peter say anything?” Bruce asked as he watched his son descend the stairs once more. Dick shook his head and Bruce clapped his shoulder. “Head up, chum. Peter will forgive you. I know it. Besides, you could use Harley as leverage. Save her but for the price of staying with us. I’m not entirely sure I like the thought of him leaving either.” Dick raised an eyebrow. It was rare for Bruce to admit something so emotional (emotional for this family. We all know they literally have the emotional capacity of a fucking packing peanut. Like, collectively.).

“Maybe. We’ll see. Is everyone ready to go?” The head of the household smirked.

“Yup. We have several locations saved and we’ll need to split up when we get there.” Dick nodded, a similar grin on his face.

“Alright then. Let’s go put an end to this joke once and for all.”

-----

“Did we really need to contact him though?!” Tony whined at his husband, completely disregarding the man clad in black, green, and gold standing in front of them.

“I appreciate the love, Stark. And might I remind you that I am the one who volunteered to help you retrieve your son?” Tony scowled at the God of Mischief.

“You’re only helping because you like Peter.” Loki shrugged, a smug smile on his face.

“Yes, I suppose I am. You’re lucky I like the little spider.” The genius rolled his eyes, aware of his husband rolling his own eyes at him.

“Whatever. What do we do?” Loki smirked.

“You tell me what you know and we get to work.”

Tony grumbled.

“Better be quick.”

He just wanted his son back.

Previous: Part 6

Next: Part 8

[thepoppypress]

An Apple A Day Keeps The Doctor Away (If Thrown Hard Enough)

Synopsis: 

Alternatively,

5 times Dr. Peter Parker took care of the Bat Family.

+1 time they took care of him.

Peter rued the day he became a doctor. He should’ve listened to Mr. Stark and went to MIT like the genius had wanted him to. No. No, instead, he had to go to medical school. He wanted to ‘help people’ and ‘heal them,’ like Dr. Strange. What a fucking joke.

(On the other hand, Dr. Strange was near tears when Peter told him he had gotten accepted into medical school.)

And then, he gets hired by one of the richest, if not the most wealthy bachelor in Gotham City (a city that Mr. Stark hadn’t wanted him to move to in the first place) and his multiple children (most of whom are not related to him) through a mutual acquaintance, Dr. Leslie Thompkins, to be their in-home family doctor. He was on top of the world. If only he knew it was all downhill from there.

-----

1) Bruce:

Peter stared at the handsome man sitting atop the bed in incredulity. Everyone else in the room was silent. Very much so silent. Even Alfred kept himself out of this. He knew better.

‘They should all know better by now,’ Peter thought bitterly.

“So let me get this straight,” Peter said, breaking out of his disbelieving stare and pinching the bridge of his nose. Bruce cut in before the doctor could continue.

“There’s not much to get straight, Dr. Parker.” Peter gave his boss a deadpan stare.

“So you’re saying that you currently have three, three holes in you because of a horseback riding incident?”

“Exactly, Doctor.” Bruce nodded sagely, completely serious. Well, at least that’s what he seemed like. Peter’s expression did not change.

“And that I had to dig the bullets of said three holes because yOU WERE SHOT DURING A HORSEBACK RIDING INCIDENT?! DO YOU KNOW HOW RIDICULOUS YOU SOUND?!” The five other men in the background winced as the doctor started chewing out the head of the household, boss or not.

‘Master Bruce, you loveable and absolute moron,’ Alfred thought while Peter was still flailing his arms about, lecturing Bruce Wayne like it was his place. And Bruce was letting him.

“IS THERE ANYTHING YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?!” A beat of silence dropped before Bruce’s deep baritone said something, eyes entirely too innocent.

“It was an accident?” It was said as a question. Peter stared in absolute mortification. Slowly, the pale skin of his face turned a lovely shade of pink as a flush of anger slowly made its way towards the roots of his hair.

‘Bruce,’ his sons collectively thought with a flinch. The doctor would not like that answer.

“ARE YOU FU-” Peter seemed to burst outward like an explosion.

‘Oh dear,’ Alfred thought while sweating lightly, ‘it looks as though we’ll be there for a while.’ Afterall, it was an official rule. No one interrupted when the good doctor was lecturing.

(It also seemed like Dr. Parker knew. Oh damn it all to hell.)

-----

2) Dick:

“I want you to stay off of that for a few weeks Dick. I know it’s a sprain but I don’t want any lasting damage. Promise me you will.” It was a demand, plain and simple.

“I promise.” The statement was said with a beaming smile. Peter gave a terse one back and sent the first son on his way. After he was gone, Peter thought a bit.

It was entirely too innocent and convincing enough, he supposed. But he knew better. Dr. Peter Parker sighed in frustration.

‘Like father, like son, it seems.’

------

Dick collapsed onto the couch, Damian grunting as he drops his eldest brother unceremoniously. He then slumped down next to his brother as they groaned in unison. The Riddler. Again.

Bruce, Tim, and Jason were also in the room, slouching in their own chairs, licking their own wounds that really shouldn’t have gotten. If only they hadn’t started playing that damn game in the middle of the battle, despite Bruce’s good efforts to stop it halfway through once he realized what his sons were doing.

The oldest Wayne son fidgeted a bit before hissing in pain, clutching his leg. The same one that was injured about a week ago. Damian’s eyes lit up in mild alarm.

“Grayson, is that not the leg that Dr. Parker told you to stay off?” Cobalt blue eyes swiveled to meet jade green before a sheepish smile filled out Dick’s face. Three other sets of eyes came to stare at their oldest brother expectedly.

“Well-” A voice seemed to come from nowhere.

“Why yes it is, Damian. How keen of you to notice.” Said doctor melted out of the shadows. The sons startled and even Bruce seemed to be slightly panicked. Sometimes, it was as if he was better than them at going places undetected.

“P-Peter.” Dick was the first to snap out of it and instantly knew what position he was put in. “Look, I-I know I shouldn’t have-” Dick stopped mid-sentence, realizing his mistake.

“Shouldn’t have what, Dick?” Peter waited for his patient to self incriminate himself. “It’s okay, I’m not mad. I just want to know what you shouldn’t have done.” It was a siren’s croon, lulling them into a false sense of security. It was dangerous, they all knew. Oh, did they know. Dick gulped.

“I actually have no idea what you’re talking about.” The others seemed to shrink back into their chairs as the dark aura around the doctor grew.

‘Oh shit,’ they all thought.

“Oh,” it was said mildly enough, but the murderous intent behind it was obvious. “Is that so?” Dick pressed closer to Damian as Peter stalked forward, procuring a wheelchair from seemingly nowhere.

Positioning it in front of the couch, Peter reached forward and lifted Dick like he weighed nothing (as if he didn’t have five inches and about 40 pounds on him) and deposited him onto the seat. Before the acrobat could wriggle and squirm about, Peter pressed a button that released restraints on the oldest, holding him in place. Horror was evident on Dick’s face.

“B! B! Help me!” He pleaded to his adoptive father as he sat at the desk. Bruce only stared at the wood beneath his elbows, back and shoulders tense. It seemed that he would not be helping him tonight.

“Shall we go now? It seems we need to revisit some old lessons.” The smile on Peter’s face was sweet, but his teeth gleamed white and sharp, eyes even sharper. Dick wailed as Peter forcibly removed him from the room. They were gone all of three seconds before Jason burst out laughing.

“Oh shit! May he rest in peace! Good luck Dickiebird! You’re gonna need it!” The man convulsed with laughter, a sentiment neither of his other brother’s shared for they both felt the dark aura moving towards the room once again.

Peter poked his head back in, Dick still struggling against the restraints with the force of a wildman. Jason, once he caught sight of the good doctor, stopped laughing immediately.

“Don’t think you guys are off the hook.” There it was. That entirely too-sweet smile. “I’m coming back for you all. We’ll be talking about that game of Hide-And-Go-Seek-Tag in the middle of a mission..”

He disappeared again, dragging Dick off to his quarters, leaving the remaining brothers and their father with one thought in their heads, and while they would’ve escaped while they could if it was someone else, they knew better than that. It was Peter after all.

‘Fuck,’ was the collective thought.

-----

3) Jason:

Alfred sipped his tea quietly, content to the core as Bruce read the weekly newspaper and Damian buttered some toast for himself. It was a beautiful Monday morning in the Wayne Manor in the middle of May. The butler’s expression didn’t change one bit as a resounding crash was heard above them.

“GET BACK IN THE BED, JASON PETER TODD!”

“NO, FUCK YOU!” More thumps occurred as Alfred continued to drink his hot beverage. There was a struggle before Dr. Peter Parker’s strangled voice demanded,

“DICK! GO GET THE TRANQUILIZER!”

“YESSIR!” Loud footsteps trailed away. The three in the dining room did not pause in their activities. Alfred continued to sip, Bruce continued to read, and Damian bit into the toast.

“TIM! THE ROPES!” More footsteps amongst the loud struggle.

“FUCK OFF! YOU’RE NOT MY MOM!”

“I’M YOUR DOCTOR. I’M WORSE!”

“HERE’S THE TRANQ! AND THE ROPES!”

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! AN INVITATION?! FUCKING SHOOT HIM ALREADY!” Another struggle on the floor before a loud thump and the mansion quieted. Bruce paused in reading, looking up to the ceiling.

“Seems like they finally got Jason back into bed.”

“It would seem that way, sir.”

“Tt.”

‘How peaceful,’ Alfred thinks.

-----

4) Tim:

Paranoia swept through Tim as the family doctor watched him bring his coffee to his lips. Said doctor had brought said coffee and said doctor’s eyes were on said coffee. Tim’s eyes widened. There was something wrong with the coffee. Hurriedly, he brought his favorite drink the whole wide world into the nearest bathroom to pour it out, tears in his eyes as he did so.

‘Such a waste,’ he bemoaned. Tim trudged back into the hallway, bypassing Peter who had followed him to make another cup of coffee, on his own so he was sure there was nothing in it. Like prescribed sleeping pills.

Even as he did make it, Peter’s doe brown eyes never left him. More waves of paranoia crashed into Tim, even more than the tiredness. Peter’s eyes were still on the cup. Tim’s mental voice was screaming with outrage and loss.

There must’ve been something in the coffee beans. Tim took a sip and instantly spit it back out. It tasted fine but there must be something wrong. There had to be.

The process repeated five more times. Each time Tim remade the coffee, Peter eyed it and it made Tim spit it back out and remake another one, insisting within his own mind that there was something wrong with it.

Eventually, Tim gave up on coffee for the day and went back up to his office, coffee-less. Peter followed him there too.

Thirty minutes later, Tim could barely keep his eyes open. Squinting up at the figure leaning against the doorway, he screeched out.

“Why?! What did I do to you?!” The figure said nothing. They only waved. Two larger figures joined the lone one. “WHY?!” A deep voice shushed him.

“Relax, Replacement. This was a long time coming. You’re lucky the doc held out until now.” Tim dry-heaved, head dizzy with the need to sleep.

But Tim couldn’t sleep.

“I have work to do!” He wailed desperately.

“We know, babybird. That’s why Damian’s going to help out.” The second youngest son sobbed at the name.

“He’s going to ruin everything!” A voice scoffed.

“I appreciate your faith in me, Drake.”

“Alright,” Peter’s voice cut through, and was soft but no less commanding, “take him away, boys. Do whatever it takes to keep him in bed.” Tim could hear the smirk in Jason’s voice as he turned to plead helplessly at Peter’s kind, beautiful face. If only that face matched the personality.

“Will do, doc.” With that, Dick and Jason dragged their little brother away for some much needed sleep.

Tim’s screams echoed through the mansion.

(Frankly, Damian thought they were a rather beautiful sound. One he could definitely fall asleep to.)

-----

5) Damian:

Jason waited with an evil grin on his face, waiting for his youngest brother to get out of the operation room. Damian Al Ghul-Wayne, Ibn al Xu Ffasch, had just gotten his wisdom teeth removed. Already 18 years old, Damian had insisted that he not needed them taken out but was left in pain for the past few days. It turns out that one of them had gotten infected somehow and they needed to be removed post-haste.

Peter waited with the rest of the Wayne family (being a doctor, he didn’t know the first thing about teeth. He was no expert in that field. But when Damian had insisted that he get them out himself, he suddenly became an expert at wrestling a scalpel away from a trained child-assassin while simultaneously holding a conversation with a colleague of his on rushing the surgery. Thank God for rich people.) while Damian was in surgery.

About an hour later, they had successfully removed the abscess and Damian’s wisdom teeth while doping him on a lot of anesthesia. Jason rubbed his hands together gleefully, itching to get to his phone to start recording. Blondie would love this one.

-----

By the time they got home, Damian was still asleep. Dick and Bruce carried Damian (for an 18 year old, he sure was large) into Peter’s office, laying him down on the bed for monitoring. While it was only wisdom teeth removal, Peter had to make sure the stitches were cleaned thoroughly and rinsed out with salt water.

Only thirty minutes had passed when Damian groggily woke and evidently, high on the anesthesia. Tim, who was sitting right next to the bed, quietly engaging Peter in an interesting conversation about the theory of time and relativity, was instantly at attention.

“Damian?” Tim whispered and Damian’s eyes popped right open, staring up at Tim in disbelief. “Damian?”

“Oh my God.” Tim glanced at Peter, who was also slightly confused and a bit amused. “This is Heaven. Hi Dr. Parker.” Peter chuckled.

“Hello Damian.” Said man smiled dopily (at which point Tim started recording), before turning back to his brother with puzzlement.

“Wait, if this is Heaven, why are you here?” A moment of silence passed before Tim’s expression became deadpan and Peter’s shoulders shook with laughter.

“It’s part of an exchange program. Gandhi’s down there at a strip club with Mussolini.” That made Peter laugh outright. It wasn’t much longer before Damian went back to sleep.

-----

“Hey Jason.”

“Hmm?”

“Wake up your brother so I can take care of his gums.”

“Okay.”

“...”

“...”

“I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU HIT HIM-”

“Okay, okay! Jeez!”

-----

+1) Peter:

“ACHOO!” Dick winced as the doctor of the house sniffled into the tissue. Warm temperature, runny nose, and bad cough meant a sick Dr. Peter Parker.

“You need to relax, Pete.” Dick’s tone was pleading. For someone who took such good care of others, he was a bad patient when it came to himself.

“Ugh,” Peter’s nasally tone broke through, obviously horribly congested. “I’m fine, Dick. I just need to walk it off.” Disbelief showed on the eldest Wayne sibling’s face as Peter attempted to get out of his bed. A calloused hand pushed him back down and even while sitting on the bed, he swayed dangerously. Dick was very concerned.

“Nope. I can’t do this alone. I’m getting Alfred.”

Not five minutes later, Alfred arrived with warm, spicy soup (cooked about an hour ago when Alfred had heard the telltale signs of a cold), a damp rag, and some medicine.

“Here, Dr. Parker. Eat some soup before drinking the medicine.” The spice cleared his sinuses well and the medicine made him very sleepy. It wasn’t long before he was out like a light, unaware of the adoring looks sent his way.

-----

Come early morning, Peter woke up well rested and feeling better than ever. The only problem was he couldn’t move. Turning his head to his right, he found Damian, in his tall and well muscled form clinging to his arm like a child.

It made Peter coo internally.

Dick was on his left, cradling Peter to his side and Tim snuggled on Dick’s chest, a blanket draped over all four of them.

All three brothers were positioned so that the doctor wouldn’t be able to escape without alerting any of the others.

He couldn’t move his legs either, Peter realized. Looking down, he noticed Jason’s head pillowed on the meat of his calf, arresting his movement and trapping him in a very comfortable and warm prison.

Bruce was beside the bed, sitting in a chair in an uncomfortable looking position that would surely put a crick in his neck.

‘Oh well,’ Peter thinks with a smile on his face, halfway back to sleep already, ‘it’s not like I can move any time soon.’

The ‘just the way I like it,’ was unsaid but unconsciously there.

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 6: 

Harley’s head lolled onto Peter’s shoulder as they settled into one of the comfortable couches in front of the fire. Damian was turned away from both of them, not at all curious about their new guests. There was a suspicious heat to his face, however.

‘Must be the fire,’ he thinks sullenly. Soft growls and barks were heard in the corner as Piper, who had situated with Titus, attacked and viciously gnawed with her blunt puppy teeth at his wagging tail, the Great Dane lazily keeping her entertained.

Bruce sat in an armchair that seemed to shrink with his hulking figure crouched in it. Dick and Jason boxed Peter and Harley into the couch, sitting on both sides of them, Jason to Harley’s side and Dick to Peter’s. Tim sat next to Damian, sipping on his hot beverage. Alfred had excused himself to get two guest rooms and a snack ready.

“You must be quite famished after that catastrophe. Don’t worry one bit. I will be back. Excuse me.”

“So,” Dick said, throwing an arm over Peter’s shoulders, “wanna tell us what that was about?” Tim sat forward in interest.

“Yeah, why did the Joker quite literally crash into Harley’s apartment building?” Peter raised an eyebrow at the slightly taller male.

“How did you know?” Tim smirked smugly, and waved his phone in the air. “You hacked into the security cameras?” The second youngest Wayne shrugged.

“It’s not that hard.” It was Peter this time, who smirked, which threw Tim for a loop.

‘Him and Ned would be great hacking buddies,’ Peter thought, an ache present in his chest when he thought about his best friend. He wondered if he was doing okay in his world, and if he was missing Peter at all.

“Peter?” Tim asked, snapping Peter out of his small head space.

“Yeah,” he said, looking around and realizing that everyone was staring at him, save for Harley who was still leaning against him. “Yeah, sorry, I- uh,” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with the arm Harley wasn’t on, “got a little lost for a second there.”

“That’s okay,” Dick assured gently, “what were you thinking about?” Peter, not turning towards him, answered.

“A world far away from this one.” There was a far away look in his eyes, one that the Wayne siblings did not appreciate. It seemed like it made him too sad for their liking, and with one look sent over Peter’s head, Jason subtly elbowed Harley awake. While it would’ve fooled a normal person, Peter was far from normal. He felt the movement of Harley’s body and he glared at Jason, who’s smile was a tad too innocent. Harley snorted herself awake (adorably, Peter should add) and her head lifted off his shoulder.

“Wha?” The dazed and groggy look in her eyes made Peter turn his glare into a little giggle. The platinum blonde’s head snapped toward the sound and she squealed.

“Puppy!” Her arms lifted over his shoulders and she hugged his neck, smacking a kiss to his cheek. Peter gave her a small smile, ignoring Dick’s pout.

“Hey Harls,” he said softly, knowing that this was likely the start of shock that would turn into another manic episode. It wouldn’t have been the first time it happened, but she seemed to get over quickly last time (as quickly as one can). Harley opened her eyes and observed her surroundings before adopting a fearful look on her face and jumping into Peter’s arms.

Peter tried not to wince when it aggravated his wounds that had yet to heal (he wasn’t a monster, he could still be in pain from a few cuts). Instantly, he patted her back.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe.” Harley squeezed tighter and it seemed like her happy visage was gone, and instead, replaced by remorse.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, trembling. Peter’s heart broke for his best friend, not for the first time that night.

“It’s not your fault,” he told her, “it’s your ex’s.” That made Peter think for a bit. A while back, it seemed like Harley knew the Wayne’s and their associates (at this point in time, things had started becoming a bit obvious to Peter about Bruce Wayne’s true career, though many things had stayed the same. The enemies for one, and the intention to protect for another.), which was suspicious to Peter. It led him to the Joker. Harley is a good person and wasn’t likely to get involved with them, if they’re mob bosses in this world.

Even before he knew her personally, he also knew a bit of Harley Quinn’s backstory. Everything started the day she met the Joker. Naturally and even more reasonably, that would be the case here as well. The Joker and Batman are mortal enemies, hence Harley was Bruce’s enemy as well (at least before she got involved with Peter, who had gotten involved with the Wayne syndicate. It made him shiver to address them like that).

“Mr. Wayne?” Bruce’s head turned to show that he had his full attention.

“Bruce, Peter,” he corrected gently, “what is it?”

“How much do you know about the Joker?” A careful look was passed around, one he’s seen being passed between Bucky, Natasha, Clint, and other Avengers who were too observant for their own good. He was sure that he wasn’t supposed to notice but being around those kinds of people, it’s impossible to not pick something up.

“Not much,” a little note of hesitancy was held.

‘He knows more than he’s letting on,’ he thought while gazing at Bruce’s face, ‘Joker is his nemesis. Of course he’d know everything.’ But something about this seemed a bit off putting to Peter.

Batman in this world may be a part of the mob but his priority was still to rid the streets of crime (in his own backwards-ass way), so if Peter needed information, considering that at least some of the Wayne children cared for him, Bruce should be able to give it up. So why wasn’t he?

‘Unless,’ he paused, ‘there’s nothing to give up.’ It’s an angle he should work more. In the meanwhile, he should also start gaining Bruce’s trust.

“Does Commissioner Gordon know anything?”

“He’ll probably know more than I do.”

“Sure. I’ll talk to Barbara and see if I can get his number.”

“We can give it to you,” Dick was quick to rush in. Peter gave him a small smile.

“Thanks Dick, but I think it’d be more appropriate to get it straight from them.”

‘I don’t want to owe you anything,’ he supplied in his own brain while bringing out his phone and shooting a text to his red-headed friend. Once he was done, he noticed that Harley had stopped trembling. Lifting her head from his neck, he saw that she was asleep.

“Actually, I also think that it’s a good time for me and Harley to turn in for the night.” Coincidentally, Alfred came in as he said those words, a couple of ham and egg sandwiches on a silver tray. The smell of light salted eggs and honey ham wafted towards his highly sensitive nose and his stomach rumbled loudly. He hadn’t had much to eat that day. Yet another reason as to why he’ll never be able to fight crime here. No food. There was an awkward pause before those around him burst into laughter. Bruce let out a small chuckle and Damian still had his head turned away. Peter blushed.

‘How embarrassing.’

“We’ll also take those sandwiches to-go please.”

-----

A violent jerk next to him had Peter sitting up with an urgency. Harley gasped, her breath coming out short and fast, and Peter was quick to reach for her shoulder and called out her name, as a reminder of him being there. He didn’t want to startle her into more of a panic than she was already in.

“Harley?” He called, brows furrowed. “Harley? Hey. Harls. I’m here.” His best friend cradled her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with a jarring consistency that reminded him of his aunt’s when his Uncle Ben had died. He squeezed her shoulder gently and gathered her into his arms. A small sob escaped her and Peter shushed his friend, a comforting hand running up and down her back. “I’m here. I’m here,” he reassured her.

Small sniffles and sobs were pressed into his neck before a watery voice spoke.

“Promise?” There was a hesitant pause from him. Could he really promise?

“Yeah,” he agreed finally, “I promise.” The reward for the obvious answer was Harley snuggling further into his embrace. He promised her. However, actions spoke louder than words. So the question really is, would he be able to keep it?

-----

Peter yawned and trudged downstairs, leaving Harley to sleep in a bit more. The rest of the night was spent contemplating and overthinking until his head hurt while his best friend slept on with the occasional sniffle. Needless to say, he was tired.

“Oh, you’re up!” A chipper voice greeted him at the base of the stairs. He met the blue eyes of his least favorite Wayne at the moment. However, considering this was his house, he shouldn’t disrespect him.

“Yup,” he tried to sound as perky (failing, obviously).

“You know, if you need more rest, you should take all the time you need.”

“Yeah, I would but I have to go to work. I don’t have many sick days yet.” Dick grinned down at him, something he was slowly getting used to.

“Don’t worry about that, my dear! You have the rest of the week off!” If Peter was holding something in his hands, he would’ve dropped it at that moment. He took a small pause in stride to process that statement.

“What do you mean ‘I have the rest of the week off?’” Dick, now walking a little distance in front of Peter, turned around and looked at him weirdly.

“I mean that you have the rest of the week off? Why? Is that weird?” The sweet smile on his face left much to be desired. Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It would take all his patience to deal with this.

“I mean, how, Dick?” An innocent tilt of the head. A bright smile that Peter was sure led people to their ultimate demise before. The feeling of his Spidey Sense coming to life. His shoulders tensed minutely, realizing that there was someone behind him.

“We took care of it for you.” A deep voice said and Peter whirled around to face the head of the Wayne household.

“Mr.-” A stern look stopped him in his tracks. “Bruce,” he amended with a sheepish smile, “what exactly do you mean when you say ‘you took care of it for me?’” The tall man shrugged, a devilish smile on his face. He could see where his first son came to get his charismatic ways.

“We called you in sick.” It was almost as if it wasn’t computing for Peter.

“But I don’t have any sick days saved.” Bruce shrugged again.

“Well, now you do.” That left Peter in dumbfounded silence. Both father and son chuckled at the look on his face (it was a cute one, Dick would assure) before the brown haired boy found his voice again, noting the faint footsteps and feeling of impending danger that approached.

“Do I want to know?”

“Best that you don’t,” another voice said behind him, Tim, he recognized. Peter let his eyes roll back into his head and let it loll back, stretching his neck in the meantime. A series of cracks occurred and Peter let out a sigh of relief.

“Alright, you know what? It’s too early for me to want to know what happened. Maybe after I’ve had coffee or something.” Tim, holding his own coffee, placed a hand over his heart, a little smile on his face.

“A man after my own heart.” Peter peeked out of one eye and decided to tease a bit. He blew a kiss and smiled at the resulting laugh. “Walk with me?” He opened both eyes to see Tim offer an arm to him, the look of a proper gentleman (if that gentleman was as sleep deprived as possible) on his visage. With a grin, he took the arm offered and both men walked through the open door to the dining room. Behind him, he hears Damian’s voice say,

“Father? Why does Grayson have such an insipid look on his face?” It took everything in him to not laugh out loud.

-----

Peter sat in the lounge room of the Wayne’s club, the entire Wayne family around him, save for Damian, Bruce and Jim, because they had other things to do. In his lap was a textbook on advanced quantum physics and the theory of space and time, his brows furrowed in concentration.

As far as he knew, Dr. Strange could travel between worlds and would do so once he knew where Peter was. The balance was important to the good doctor after all. Even then, it didn’t hurt to gain more knowledge about the evidence of the multiverse.

Jason and that redhead from the gym were behind him playing darts, while Dick and Tim watched with amused eyes as the redhead, Roy Harper as Peter had come to know him, beat Jason with relative ease. The second eldest Wayne scowled as the others snickered around him. Another man hung around Tim, seeming the closest to him and Steph.

Yet another black-haired, blue eyed guy, complete with shaggy hair that hung in his eyes and a fade in the back. He wore large, round sunglasses and his ears were pierced severely. He gripped Peter’s hand tightly when they shook, and he introduced himself as Connor, Kon as he insisted Peter call him. His anxiety amped itself up in his presence, and where he was more or less used to the reactions to the Wayne family, he was still cautious.

From his meager knowledge about the DC Universe, he knew Roy Harper as Arsenal, formerly Speedy, Green Arrow’s sidekick, and Kon as Superboy. If Batman and his Robins kept their names here, in the Mafia-verse (as Peter so aptly calls it now), it was likely that they also had the same monikers.

At this point in time, a few days had passed since he had come to stay at Wayne Manor and got acquainted with more people from, what Peter was guessing their shadier dealings. Harley was absent today because she had some things to straighten out. She hadn’t left his side for long since that day but she reluctantly did today and Peter was concerned. He knew his best friend could take care of herself but he couldn’t help but worry.

It was then that he thought about what the last few days brought him. Since he hadn’t really had any time off from work, Steph, Dick and the other Wayne kids took turns showing him around the Manor and around Gotham. It amazed Peter. There was so much more than he realized. They also went to the popularized shopping and club district, spending as much as they wanted.

By they, Peter meant the Wayne’s because he did not have enough money to buy the things sold in that particular part of the city. And he wouldn’t accept any charity, he was clear about that before. Despite that, however, it seemed the Wayne’s didn’t listen. If he said he didn’t need or want anything, they threatened to buy everything in the store. When he finally acquiesced and got something, they insisted that that couldn’t be enough.

“A Wayne entering the store and not buying anything? Preposterous,” Dick said, a grin on his face.

“Yeah. Besides, angel, if we don’t buy anything, it’s bad for business. Rumors would spread.” Feral amusement lit up Jason’s features while Tim smirked in the background, Steph tight to his side. Harley hung off his shoulders, relaxed and obviously having fun. Peter, in the meanwhile, was not.

“BUT WE CAN’T BUY AN ENTIRE STORE’S WORTH OF THINGS!” Damian, leaning onto the counter with a nervous looking cashier, shrugged, eyes sharp and yet, laughing. His voice held some form of enjoyment. This made him sick to his stomach. Is this what rich people did?

“It’s been done before.” There was a moment before Peter exploded.

“WHAT?!” Needless to say, they bought all the merchandise in the store. And then some.

Peter returned to Wayne Manor owning more than he had ever had in his life. A new phone, watch, electronics, wardrobe (after hours and hours of Steph and Dick twirling him this way and that, having him try on things, catering to their whim. The manager was helpless to their wrath, and so was Peter.).

The sudden and faint sound of leather being poked reached his ears, snapping him out of his reverie and he knew that someone had nudged Kon, seeing as he was the only one wearing a leather jacket. A small moment passed before Kon cleared his throat. Peter lifted his head to meet his interested eyes.

“So Peter,” he started. Peter tilted his head.

“Yes Kon?” The lilt in the question paired with large, innocent looking eyes and a sweet smile made Kon blush a bit. He cleared his throat again, aware of the jealous glares that were subtly directed towards him.

“Where are you from?”

“Queens. You?”

“Smallville, Kansas, but I was born somewhere else.”

“Adopted?” Peter asked.

“Something like that. So how’d you get to know the Waynes?” Peter fingered the page of his textbook.

“Through a mutual friend, Slade Wilson. Maybe you know him?” The shocked look on Kon’s face was quite funny and Peter just stopped himself from smiling.

“You know Deathstroke?” Peter shook his flattened hand.

“As a friend, not a business contractor. We met at the bar I work at.” Kon filled out his lips into the shape of an ‘o’ and nodded.

“So then, I suppose you know what he does.” Peter nodded.

“Not the full extent, but vaguely, yes.” An awkward silence fell between them, even with the laughter that surrounded.

“So, what’re you reading about?” Peter lifted his book for him to see the cover. “Advanced Quantum Physics? Smart guy, huh?” Peter lifted one shoulder in a half shrug.

“I mean, not really? I’m just good at this stuff.” Steph snorted, teetering on the back of the couch.

“What a liar. You’re really smart Pete. You should start owning it.” Peter shrugged again and Kon nudged the second youngest Wayne next to him.

“Sounds like you, buddy.” Tim hummed, seeming amused as he watched the interaction between Kon and Peter. The look didn’t leave his face as he stood up and walked over to Peter.

“Speaking of being smart, Peter? Can you help me with this?” The chestnut haired boy quirked an eyebrow, aware of the obvious ploy that was happening and he was nervous about letting it play out.

“Sure. I’m not sure I’ll be of much help, but I’ll try.” Steph cooed, leaning her elbow on her knee and brushing a strand of curly blonde hair out of her pretty face.

“Always our humble boy.” Peter reached over and slapped her knee before she saw it coming, dislodging her arm and making her face plummet towards the ground before she righted herself. She cursed playfully at him as he laughed and walked to join Tim at the long table. A whiteboard was situated at the end of it.

About fifteen minutes later, Tim and Peter had nearly figured out everything that the second youngest Wayne needed help on, Kon and Steph joining (after she finished sulking) at Tim’s side.

“So, I was thinking that this-” Peter pointed to a statistic on a spreadsheet before the sound of something metal bouncing off wood caught his attention. His ears perked up and he could hear Roy and Jason’s voices yelling across the space and footsteps starting to stomp towards him. Suddenly, everything was in slow motion.

His Spidey Sense activated, anticipation gearing his systems as the feeling of anxiety got bigger and bigger and bigger still. The three across from him joined in, their voices creating a cacophony that Peter let sink into the background. The slice of metal through air made him tense his shoulders and with the speed gifted from the spider bite, Peter lifted his hand and caught the object that was hurtling towards him, fingers spanning across the grip, the edge of the dart a mere inch away from his temple.

Everything was no longer in slow motion and his Spidey Sense died down. Footsteps halted and a tense silence hung in the air. Peter looked at the dart that he held in his hands and up to Jason and Roy, who were staring at him in confusion. He glanced towards the three sitting across from him and saw the same look etched onto their faces. A few more moments of quiet passed before someone spoke up.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Jason asked, jaw clenched. Peter floundered.

“I-” He shrugged helplessly, looking around in nervousness, “I don’t know. I kind of just-” he mimed what happened and shrugged again, a lost look on his face.

“You kind of just caught a dart in mid-air?”

“Yes?” He knew he was being less than convincing but he didn’t know how to act in this situation. Back home, everyone already knew about his powers and he didn’t need to explain when he did weird shit like that.

“How?!” Roy looked incredulous. Peter was really happy that Bruce wasn’t here.

“Natural talent?”

He really needed to work on his lying skills.

-----

“Tony,” Stephen gritted his teeth, “it’s been three days.”

“We haven’t found Peter yet.” The doctor sighed at his wonderfully caring, loving, and infuriatingly stubborn husband.

“You haven’t slept.” Tony sipped his coffee, a dead yet still alive look in his eyes.

“I’ll sleep when we’ve found Peter.” Stephen’s eye twitched and he bit back another sigh. He came forward from his perch behind his husband’s back and wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist, smirking when he felt Tony tense.

“Peter wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself. He’d want you to put your health first.” Seemingly ignoring him, Tony mumbled into his coffee.

“Stupid teenagers. Making their dad worry.” The rest was unintelligible by his ears and Stephen rolled his eyes.

“Wherever he is, darling, he’s fine.” Tony suddenly slammed his coffee mug down onto the table and violently turned towards his husband, scowl deepening when Stephen didn’t even move an inch. He just raised an eyebrow at him.

“Did your Wizard Tingle tell you that? How can you be so sure, Stephen?! He could be dead for all we know!” The blue eyed man scowled right back down to his husband.

“He’s not dead, Tony. I know for sure.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t know, so I’m not going to rest until I find my son.” Tony turned back around and continued tinkering around with the dimensional travelling device he was concocting.

If he could make a time traveling machine to go and stop an evil grape with a panini bread chin from eliminating half of the universe, he should be able to do this. “In the meantime, sweetheart,” the endearment was stressed and said through clenched teeth, “keep searching through the universes, dimensions, or whatever. Please. We need to find him.”

Stephen’s eyes softened. He really loved his husband. While the media made it seem like he was self-absorbed and didn’t care about anyone but himself, it was really the opposite. He cared so much that he was willing to go to the ends of the earth for his children. He had the scars to prove it.The doctor moved forward and leaned his head heavily onto the genius’ shoulder, letting his breath fan across the back of his neck.

“If I continue to search,” he whispers, “will you please go to sleep?” Tony was silent for a minute before he released the tension in his form, slumping in defeat.

“Do I have a choice?” Stephen made a humming noise.

“Well, I mean, you definitely have the choice to ignore what I say, but I will do what I have to.” Tony grumbled some more but Stephen knew that it was all in good fun.

“Fine. But you have to keep looking.” Stephen smiled at the brunette’s back as he left the lab and he called after him.

“Promise, honey!” Once he was sure Tony was out, he looked towards the ceiling. “FRIDAY.”

“Yes, Dr. Stark-Strange?” A small smile came upon his face as he heard his name. What an incredible feeling, to have his name in conjunction with the man he loves.

“Lock down the lab until he gets at least a full eight hours of sleep. Sleep Protocol.”

“Of course.” Then, Stephen opened a portal and stepped into his room to meditate. He promised his husband and it wasn’t like he wouldn’t have done it anyway. Peter was like his own son. He cared for Peter and he wasn’t stopping until Peter was found.

-----

“So,” Harley popped her bubble gum obnoxiously, “I heard from a little birdy that my Puppy did something badass today.” Peter snorted.

“Did you? Lemme guess. Steph?” Harley smirked from her perch on the bathroom sink.

“Spot on as always, Pup. So,” she tilted her chin coyly, bringing her knees up to her chest, “what happened?”

“Nothing much. I just stopped a dart from hitting me. That’s all.” Peter finished washing his hands and left the bathroom with Harley in tow, pouting at the lack of information.

“Aw, Puppy! You can’t just leave me without all the details! Spill! Spill!” He laughed, the sound echoing down the long hallway as they walked towards the dining room.

“It really was nothing! Also, how are you so chipper?” Harley tsked, as if the last few days, if not weeks, weren’t immensely hard on her.

“In my line of work, we need to get over things very quickly. This is no exception. And stop changing the subject!” The argument continued until they reached the dining room.

“Look Harley! There’s nothing to tell you other than the fact that I caught a dart when I went to scratch my head.”

“There has to be more than that!”

“There really isn’t! I caught a dart! End of story!” Those who were already sitting at the dinner table looked up as the duo came in.

“Talking about today?” Steph asked, leaning back into the chair. “You should’ve been there, Harley. It was badass.”

“I know!” Harley whined. “It would’ve been so cool!” Peter groaned as they sat down at the table. The others looked at them, not even trying to be subtle.

“There is literally nothing to it! I happened to grab it when I went to scratch my head!” Jason and Dick grinned while Tim chuckled into his water (Alfred said enough with the coffee. For today.). Damian, who wasn’t at the lounge, looked a bit confused but didn’t ask.

“Okay, okay, we believe you,” Dick tried to placate. Peter gave him a deadpan look, knowing for a fact that it wasn’t true. He also knew that they happened to latch onto this new information, considering that their background checks didn’t yield anything useful. Or really anything at all, with him being from another dimension and all that jazz. Peter sighed.

“Whatever.” Steph and Jason snickered while Harley huffed.

“Not whatever, Pup! I still wanna know!” Jason perked up.

“You haven’t told her yet?” Harley shook her head, looking towards the man with extreme excitement.

“Tell me, tell me!” Jason started recounting the situation earlier, Harley paying attention. Damian typed away on his phone, trying to make it less obvious that he was listening quite raptly as well. By the end of it, Harley was gasping with shock (Jason, the Shakespeare nerd he is, made it so much more dramatic than it really had been).

“That was so much more than what actually happened!” Peter scowled at Jason, who smirked in return.

“Every heroic tale deserves to be told in style, angel.”

“I saved myself from attaining a hole in my head from a dart. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo.” Dick gasped, one hand covering his mouth and the other pointing straight at Peter.

“You swore! You shouldn’t swear. Angels don’t swear!” Peter’s eye twitched, an annoyed expression obvious on his face (though he wasn’t as annoyed as he should’ve been).

“I’m not an angel! I-” The doors to the kitchen opened with Alfred and Bruce carrying plates of food. They placed them on the table and sat down at their respective spots (at the head and the right side of the head).

“You what Peter?” The chestnut haired boy blushed and looked away, the feeling of slight embarrassment prevalent in him.

“Nothing.” Bruce gave him a weird look while everyone else looked amused.

“If you’re sure.” Peter said nothing else and Bruce nodded in assent. “Alright. Let’s eat.”

-----

After dinner, Harley, for reasons unknown to Peter, left, but not before meeting Barbara at the door of Wayne Manor.

“Are you sure you guys will be alright, Harls?” Harley rolled her eyes, an exasperated, but fond look on her face.

“I’m sure Pete. Now go and hang out or do something interesting. I swear, you worry as a hobby. You’re gonna get boring.” Peter pursed his lips, looking adorably concerned and a little insulted.

“I do interesting things!” Barbara and Harley snorted. Peter, in an act of defiant childishness, stuck his tongue out at them and closed the door in their faces, ignoring the loud laughter that reached his ears from the other side. “I am interesting!” He muttered to himself, barely surprised when an arm was thrown around him.

“Sure you are, angel.” Peter shot him an irritated look.

“You know, I’m not an angel right?” Jason looked down on the boy trapped to his side.

“What makes you say that?” Peter looked on darkly, weirdly introspective.

“You attract what you are. I’m friends with a mercenary and someone who deals with some of the shadier sides of things. Not to mention, her boyfriend, a notorious gang member, is after us because I convinced her to break up with him,” he said simply.

‘Too simply,’ Jason thinks. ‘He must really believe this.’

“That’s not necessarily true, Pete.” Blue clashes with doe brown as Peter turned his large eyes up to meet Jason’s.

“How so?”

“It’s not that you attract what you are. What if you are kind but you attract people who are mean? Or you’re loyal, but attract cheaters. It’s not ‘you attract what you are,’ but ‘you attract those in desperate need of what you are.’ Like us.”

Peter was quiet for a moment. Seeing that he wasn’t going to say anything else, Jason continued.

“Besides, even if you aren’t an angel, you’re our angel.” Jason lets Peter go from his side and uses his longer legs to stride in front of him, turning when he is to face Peter. He steps towards the shorter man, towering over him. Jason brings a hand up to Peter’s face and cradles his cheek in a calloused hand. Peter stays still, frozen at the contact. “Whether you like it or not.”

-----

“Tony!” Stephen yelled, bursting through his portal and into Tony’s bedroom. Tony blinks blearily before recognizing his husband and sitting up.

“Hey hon. What’s wrong?”

“I figured out where Peter is!” Tony’s eyes widened, now more awake than ever.

“What?! Where is he?!” Stephen shoves something into Tony’s hands. The genius looks down and squints in confusion.

“Why are you giving me a comic book?” Stephen pointed straight to the comic book, which was titled, “Batman: The Mafia-Verse.”

“He’s in there.” A pause of silence before Tony raises the book.

“Peter.” His husband nods.

“Yes.”

“Peter Parker.”

“Yes.”

“Is in a comic book?”

“Yup.” Another pause of silence.

“What the actual fuck?!” Stephen nodded sagely.

“Wait until you read it.” His husband looks at him weird.

It took Tony ten minutes to read to the stopping point.

“OH HELL NO!”

-----

The bad news came in the morning. Jim Gordon, with tears streaming down his face, came knocking on Wayne Manor’s door. Bruce opened it.

“Jim?!” He reacts with shock and concern for his old friend. “What’s wrong?!” The police commissioner of Gotham City collapses into Bruce’s arms, clutching at shoulders awkwardly but too overcome with grief to notice.

“Babs-” he gasped out, voice hoarse, “she’s in the hospital.” Bruce’s blue eyes widened.

By then, Peter had heard the commotion from his bedroom (now separate from Harley’s) and came rushing down to be greeted by the sight of the sobbing commissioner.

“Commissioner Gordon! What happened?”

“He got to her! She’s in the hospital! And Harley! Oh Harley!” Peter’s blood froze, and his ears pounded. In the background, he could hear multiple footsteps rushing towards them. Peter surged forward.

“Jim! Jim! What happened to Harley?!” Jim could barely get his words through, but eventually could.

“Harley. She’s-” a gasp, “gone.” Another gasp. “The Joker. He took her.”

Previous: Part 5

Next: Part 7

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 5: 

Dick crouched to the ground of the newly destroyed building, bodies scattered around him, large smiles painted on their faces as the last remnants of their life before it ended. Tim looked up from his phone, a furrow between his brows.

“Jim says that he can get us another ten minutes before cruisers show up.” Jason sat atop a table, a seemingly bored expression on his face but his brothers knew better. A sharp eye roved over the scene, and it was increasingly obvious who had attacked the shop.

“I don’t get it,” Dick muttered, an intense look on his face. “Joker’s been underground for the better part of this year, after what happened with Jay.” Jason grinned ferally at the remembrance of what had happened last year.

‘Fun,’ the eviller part of his mind muttered and he wholeheartedly agreed.

“Anything to note, Timmers?” Jason drawled as he leaned back on his arms, his shortest brother glancing at him irritatingly.

“We already know who did it. The question is why? Why would the Joker attack a seemingly random store?” Tim sighed and snapped photos of relevant scenes, pocketing his phone when he was done. “Whatever. We can deal with this later. Dick, we have a meeting with Zee later about the drug and arms trades with the Russians in about an hour and our ten minutes here is almost up. Let’s go.”

The brother’s nodded and headed out together, and as Jason started to go a separate way, not at all interested in the dealing side of his family’s mob, the words out of Dick’s mouth caused him to pause.

“Wait, I know this place,” Dick noted, blue eyes darting around with a grin slowly building on his face. “This is where Peter lives.” Jason turned around, his expression matching Dick’s: predatory.

“He lives here?” Tim raised an eyebrow at the dinginess of the place around them. “I can’t decide whether or not it’s apropos of him.”

“I know. I tried to give him some money and he just gave it back.” Tim hummed.

“What did Slade say? ‘Looks like my sweetheart doesn’t accept charity very well?’”

“Also, isn’t that kinda irresponsible of the Golden Son of Gotham?” Jason mocked, causing Dick to smirk. The handsome man crossed his arms and observed his surroundings.

“Like it really puts a dent in our plans. It was barely anything.” Tim looked up at his older brother, blue eyes curious as he ruffled his long hair, scowling when it got snagged in a knot. He needed a shower when he got home.

“How much was it exactly?”

“100,000 US dollars.” Neither of his younger brothers blinked.

“I know. That’s what I said.”

-----

“You sure this is where that chick lives, Timbo?” Jason asked with trepidation as they dodged another seedy person, eyeing them underneath a ballcap as they slinked past. Tim didn’t even look at the person, squinting at his phone, texting Jim about what he had on Harley Quinn.

“About 99.9 percent sure that this is where she lives. Considering that she’s the only friend Peter Parker has right now that isn’t associated with us, he’s sure to be living with her. And she has thorough ties to the Joker, and even though she said that she broke up with him when we met her last, she’s pretty well known by a lot of our other associates without even being related to Jokes.”

“Where did Jim say she lived?”

“Apartment 206,” Tim answered as they climbed the stairs. The elevator was broken so there was no other alternative. The three Wayne boys eyed the walls and surrounding scenes as they walked through the apartment building, where the security was so lax that the guard at the door didn’t even look up as they went through the front door. There was no electronic security to Tim’s knowledge and Jason’s quick look at the guard said the man did nothing but look at pornographic magazines all day.

By the time they had made it all the way to the apartment, they were less than impressed with the place. In fact, it made them want to get Peter out of there as soon as possible. Even if that meant housing Harley Quinn along with him.

“I’m calling Kara once I get home. I need her to speed things up.” Tim stared at his brother, blue eyes curious and questioning.

“Kara? Is she gonna do something here?” Dick looked up and down the hallway, just in case somebody heard.

“I’m having her, uh, redecorate the building. Meanwhile, I already have a nice apartment lined up for Petey and his friend, near the Manor. Penthouse suite and everything and only we’ll have access outside of Peter and Harley.” Jason and Tim grinned together, already liking the plan. The building was already a fire hazard (and let’s be honest, a bunch of other hazards) just waiting to happen. All they needed was an explanation for the apartment. It was perfect.

“Alright,” Tim announced as he slowed to a stop in front of Apartment 206, “we’re here.”

They knocked on the door.

-----

Tony was panicking. After FRIDAY had alerted him of Peter’s disappearance, he accessed the footage that was always rolling in the lab. What he saw shocked him.

Peter sat in the lab, minding his own business and tinkering around when out of nowhere, a rip, right in the air above Peter’s head opened, light spilling from it. How the spiderling didn’t notice was beyond him. Then, as if he was liquid, the image of Peter distorted, almost like something sucking in water, and within a second, he was gone, the rip disappearing with him.

Tony gaped at the footage while Stephen frowned at it. There was definitely some sort of magic going on with this. Through his own magic, he could see deep purple lining the edges of the rip as his husband rewatched the video again and again. Something was fishy. He would have to do his own research later. He glanced down at the smaller man.

But his husband would have to come first. Knowing him, he’d start blaming himself and spiral. It was something Stephen wouldn’t have, especially if he could prevent it before it could happen. Grabbing Tony by the arm, he tugged him towards his chest and embraced him while his husband started sobbing into his chest.

“Where could he be?! I thought you were the only one who could travel between dimensions?! Who could’ve done this? I-” he continued to babble and sob, losing his mind. Peter was one of the best things that ever happened to Tony. What the hell happened?

Stephen shushed him, knowing it wasn’t the best time to mention anything yet. He needed Tony to calm down before they continued with any plan. Resting his chin on the top of his husband’s head, Stephen narrowed his eyes.

There was something suspicious going on. It went beyond even him, Sorcerer Supreme. He sighed mentally.

‘Time to bring in the big guns.’

-----

“So, your name is Damian?” Peter tilted his head, doe brown eyes adorably large. The man sitting across from him, Damian, his mind supplied, was stiff and slightly haughty looking.

“Yes,” he answered shortly, looking at Peter as if he was a particularly slow pedestrian, like he was obliging him but Peter was a hindrance in him getting on with his day. Peter rolled his eyes mentally.

‘Just like Happy,’ he thought fondly before his heart clenched, an ache appearing in his chest. He missed his world so much.

Damian noticed the little frown on the (much) smaller man’s face and it just looked so much like a puppy that he almost wanted to do anything to bring a smile on his face, wanted to save him for some reason and that made Damian grit his teeth. Just last week, he had literally split a man in half using only his katana. Why the fuck would a little twink like the one in front of him make him feel such things now, of all times?

‘How inconvenient,’ he thinks with a scowl. Despite what every enemy of his family thinks, he did have feelings. It was just that he could think without them. Usually. When a slight flinch appeared on the twi- Peter’s face, he did his best to try to smooth out his expression. Internally, he was roaring.

‘Dammit!’

“So, uh,” Peter started awkwardly, “have you been here long?” Damian gave a light scoff.

‘If he doesn’t know who I am, he hasn’t been here long.’ Across from him, Peter’s lips twitched downward.

‘He probably thinks I don’t know who he is. I know, you prick, I just don’t care.’ However, Peter got the vibe that this man was more physically dangerous than his brothers so he refrained from saying anything. He wasn’t one to keep pushing his luck.

“I’ve lived here long enough.” Peter stared at him expectantly and Damian, looking at Peter like he was that pedestrian again, answered in more detail. “I lived with my mother until I was ten and then she let me go live with my father. I’m nineteen now, so I’ve been living with him for nine years.”

‘So, he didn’t know his father until he was ten.’ The slight twitch in his brow and the darkening of his green eyes caught Peter’s attention. Being the observant person he was, something dawned on him. It was bitterness. ‘He didn’t even know who his father was until he met him.’

“Cool.” Damian snorted sardonically.

“If you say so.” A small silence stretched between them with Damian sipping on his drink (‘a black coffee,’ Peter thought with a small twist of his face. ‘Disgusting.’) and Peter glancing out the window. His eyes caught the movement of something large and black with something yellow-ish blonde wiggling all over it. It was Titus, he realized, being infinitely patient with Piper curiously sniffing and jumping all over him. He giggled lightly.

Damian heard a giggle and turned to see Peter gazing out the window at their respective pets. The insolent puppy was bothering Titus while the Great Dane, trained and loyal as he is, stayed still and indulged the puppy, more patient than his master could ever be.

“Where did you get Titus? He’s so nice and quiet. I can never get Piper to be quiet. She’s always yowling and barking, waking up the neighbors and what not. I wasn’t sure if the apartment building I lived in allowed pets but I’ve had her for a few days now and no one’s said anything yet. Except our neighbors. They’re so mad about her, I think they’re gonna tell our landlord soon. You got any tips for making her stay quiet?”

‘Threaten them. Torture them within an inch of their life. Kill them,’ his mind immediately supplied before he shook off the thought. He couldn’t tell Peter that.

“I can’t say,” he started slowly, “Titus was always a very quiet dog. He never needed much training.” Peter started to look put out, and Damian was quick to try and rectify that. He took a page out of his father’s book when dealing with those they needed to keep quiet but couldn’t use the amount of force they wanted. “I’d try giving them a treat when they stop barking and consistently let them know that they’re being good when they don’t bark at random things and people.”

Peter nodded in understanding. That was surprisingly good advice.

“Also, I got Titus from a friend.” Peter analyzed the pain behind his eyes despite the blankness of his face.

“A close friend?” Green eyes narrowed slightly. It seemed that this person was more observant than he thought. It immediately raised his awareness of him.

“Yes,” Damian answered after a short beat, “she was a close friend of mine.” With barely a glance, he could already tell this was a touchy subject area so he went on doing what he did best: ramble.

“Well, I had a few close friends too when I still lived in New York. I’m 21, by the way. Did I mention that? Well, I just did. Anyway-” and he continued.

Damian, knowing that the man across from him refrained from prying about Raven, let him continue babbling with an indulgence that was much like his pet’s. It was quite a while later that he even realized he was kind of enjoying this. With a stranger no less. Eventually, an alarm on Peter’s phone went off. He cursed after he checked.

“Shoot, I have to get to work.” He stood up and grabbed his drink, waiting for Damian to straighten and they both walked out of the cafe, towards their dogs. Once they were actually outside, they both noticed that both dogs were asleep, Titus’ huge body curled protectively around Piper’s. Peter cooed. “It was nice meeting you Damian. Maybe we can do this again sometime? Have Titus and Piper get together for a playdate?”

Horrified at the terminology, Damian could only nod. Peter shot a blinding grin at him.

“Awesome! I guess we’ll see you next time!” Peter crept forward and woke both dogs up, Piper’s head shooting up with an adorable yawn. She stepped out from Titus’ legs and stumbled into Peter’s awaiting arms. He giggled that annoy(ingly cute) giggle and was on his way with a wave. Damian waved back hesitantly. Titus joined him by his side and sat down, staring up at his master, who was staring after that strange boy. Titus huffed, snapping Damian out of his daze. Instantly, he became angry at himself.

‘How can I let myself be lured by a pretty visage? I am the heir to the Demon Head, Ra’s Al Ghul’s grandson, son of the Batman! What disgrace!’ A sneer ripped across his face, so severe it startled passerbys. Then, he realized something.

‘How can I see him again if he doesn’t know how to contact me?’ The frown deepened. ‘Wait, why do I care?’ Damian groaned.

“Come Titus. We’re heading home.” Like the loyal dog he was, Titus trailed after his master, never needing a leash.

Mentally, Titus, ever the intelligent dog, snorted at his master.

'Strange,’ was all he thought.

-----

Harley heard a knock come upon the door. She froze in terror in front of the fridge. Her immediate thought was,

‘What if it’s him?’ She had heard about the incident across the street this morning. Large smiles on the faces of the victims. There could only be one person who committed that kind of atrocity. As if on autopilot, Harley straightened and opened the freezer door, going for the .9 mm and it’s loaded magazine hidden at the back. As quietly as possible, she strapped the magazine in and loaded it. She approached her door and laid the muzzle of the gun against the back of the wood and opened the door with her right hand.

Three pairs of different shaded blue eyes stared back at her. Harley let out a huge sigh of relief before realizing something.

“Wait, how’d you know where I live?!” She pointed an accusing finger at two faces of exasperation and one face of sheepishness.

“We may or may not have asked Jim?” Harley rolled her eyes, muttering something along the lines of ‘police’ and ‘untrustable.’ Tim sighed and got back on track. His brothers could really be a nuisance sometimes.

“Is Peter here?” The alabaster haired girl paused and shook her head no.

“He went out with Piper.” Dick, already knowing who Piper was, smiled a bit. On the other hand, Jason and Tim, who did not know who Piper was, stiffened. Jason’s face showed outrage and Tim’s face went suspiciously blank.

“Who’s Piper?” Tim asked at the same time as the second eldest Wayne shouted,

“He has a girlfriend?!” Harley gave a confused face before she pouted.

“If he has a girlfriend, he’s in such big trouble for not telling me.” Three confused faces of the eldest Wayne boys told her everything.

“Piper is our support puppy. He took her on a walk and should be home any minute now. He’s gonna be late for work if he isn’t.” As if on cue, loud, high pitched barking and the sound of footsteps rounded the corner and the four came face to face with a running Peter with Piper clutched in his arms, not even out of breath. Harley and the Three Stooges watched as Peter barely even glanced in their direction, throwing out a noncommittal,

“Hey Harls,” and ran into the apartment to put on his work clothes after depositing Piper on the couch. Piper, tired after such an eventful morning, curled up instantly and went off to sleep. Harley cooed at the sight. Not even three minutes passed as Peter stumbled out, buttoning the top button of his work shirt and grabbed his bag and keys. He was out the door with a,

“Bye Harley! I’ll see you later tonight!” shouted behind him, running with rushed momentum. The Three Stooges started after him, also calling thank yous to Harley as she watched them run down the stairs with a confused but amused look on her face.

“Boys,” she muttered with exasperation.

Peter glanced at the three men who kept up with him easily with thinly veiled annoyance.

“What do you guys want?” They ran out the front of the apartment building, the guard barely even glancing their way. Jason and Tim exchanged furious looks.

“To take you to work!” Dick answered cheerfully. Peter skidded to halt with a horrified look on his face. Instantly, he started shaking his head.

“No,” he stated with his eyes wide, “no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Definitely not.” With that, he started to run again, this time pushing his legs with some of the super strength the bite gave him, easily leaving the brothers in his dust. Nearly at the bus stop, he heard Jason shout,

“Give up, princess! We know where you work! We’ll just go there!”

“Not a chance!” He threw back. The bus, ever faster than even cars in Gotham, sped past him and came to a screeching halt in front of the bus stop.

‘Come on!’ He urged himself with gritted teeth and finally made it on with a large sigh. The bus driver grunted.

“Hurry up kid. I got other stops too.” He nodded sheepishly and went to sit down, the bus leaving after a few seconds, before any of those stalkers could board. He grinned in triumph before remembering that they, in fact, did know where he worked and would definitely come to bother him. He groaned loudly, throwing his head on the back of the disgusting seat before blushing at the amount of shushes he got.

‘Fuck,’ he swore in his head, tugging on his curls in agitation. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuuuck!’

-----

He walked through the door of the Captain’s Bar with apprehension. The instant he entered, his eyes went to the bar where three large backs leaned over the counter in different poses. He rolled his eyes and muttered curses.

‘Of course, with my luck, Slade is here too.’ Then, another large and muscular back crossed the other three, settling into a seat next to Tim (he squinted at the smallest back) with no drink in his hand. Sighing, he passed them and went into the back, wrapping an apron around his waist and taking a deep breath before walking out into the bar. Four grinning faces greeted him and he ignored the stupid ones and smiling only at Slade.

“Hey sweetheart,” he murmured with fondness, deep voice sounding suspiciously raspy (almost like a bedroom voice). Peter blushed slightly and his smile became a tad sweeter.

“Slade,” he greeted, “how’re you?”

“Better now that I’ve seen you.” Peter fought down another blush and in an effort to brush off the comment, looked up at Slade through his eyelashes, a sultry look on his face. Making his voice as teasing as possible, he replied,

“Careful there, Slade. With all that flirting, someone’s gonna think you’re trying to seduce me.” Not expecting the sudden confidence, Slade’s one eye widened before he chuckled a bit and leaned forward a bit more.

“Well, is it working?” Peter, not one to really back down, especially when it comes to his pride, also pushed closer and only stopped when there was barely an inch between their faces. Thanking his past self for putting some gum in his mouth before going to work, he let a small gust of minty fresh breath go towards Slade’s lips and leaned just a bit closer, he whispered,

“Nope.” Slade laughed out loud at that and Peter retreated, a small smile on his face.

“You sure know how to mess with a man, sweetheart.” Peter shrugged, not acknowledging the looks of outrage on the Three Stooges’ faces.

“You’re not exactly my first rodeo, Slade. I’m a grown man. I know how to flirt.” The feelings of outrage on Dick’s face became verbal.

“I will not let you steal him from me!” Dick shouted from the other end of the bar. Jason snorted, though a bit bitter and he was pretty sure it was because of the small man in front of them. Tim was feeling similarly, like he wanted to steal Peter away from the mercenary and hide him away forever, like precious treasure never to be shared.

He was not, however, entirely sure why he felt this for a person he’s barely even met.

“At least let me teach him how to fight before you two rail the poor kid out of his fuckin’ mind.” At that, Peter blushed tomato red and sputtered.

“What?” He nearly screeched. “No one is railing anyone here!” Jason rolled his eyes.

“Sure, whatever, angel. Just remember that you owe me a fight.”

“I owe you nothing!” Then Jason grinned and Peter squeaked a bit, not liking the predatory nature of that look.

“Maybe, if I teach you to fight, you can do some kinky shit with it. Like a chase through the woods at night and whoever catches him can fuck him senseless while the other watches.” Peter became even redder than before and he pointed a finger towards the door with a vehemence that the four men had never seen before.

“OUT! GET OUT!” Jason belly laughed and even then, he sounded like a prowling predator, a hunter ready for the kill. Even Dick blushed a bit but by the looks on both his and Slade’s face, they were really thinking about it. Peter’s eye twitched. “Dick Grayson. Slade Wilson,” he grit out and he enjoyed the slight freeze when he uttered their names with red hot rage. “If you even entertain the idea, then I will never. Never speak to you again. Understood?”

Not wanting to test the irate cutie, they merely nodded. Tim, sitting right next to them, watched with glowing amusement and amazement at how well trained Peter had gotten the two. One of the greatest mercenaries in the world and his ex-boyfriend who happened to be a part of one of the most dangerous mobs in the world. And this small man, this little, cute, and defenseless looking man in front of them had them both wrapped around his little finger.

“See ya,” Jason gave a two fingered salute and he was out the door before Peter could give him another glare (to be honest though, it was like being glared at by a kitten).

“Now that the nuisance is gone,” Tim snorted at that. He liked this kid. He had proven to be smart too. Tim wondered what else he was good at. “What can I get you gentlemen?”

-----

Peter groaned as he flopped onto belly on his makeshift bed next to Harley’s, who was holding Piper in her arms on her own bed.

“What’s wrong, Pup?” He groaned again in response. Harley laughed and nudged him with her bare foot. Peter hissed at the coldness of her toes.

“Harls, you’re freezing.” She rolled her eyes.

“As if you’re not always cold too.” Peter tilted his head at that.

“Touché. I guess we were both freeze babies.”

“Yup,” Harley said with a popped ‘p,’ “now stop avoiding. What’s wrong.” Peter rolled over and blew some brown curls out of his face.

“Men are stupid, Harley. Never ever get with a man.” Harley snorted, her pretty face becoming pained.

“Oh trust me, Pup. I learned my lesson this time around.” Peter’s eyebrows scrunched up and he became concerned for his best friend. He sat up and joined Harley on her perch, Piper instantly climbing onto his lap and wiggling her little butt all over the place. Harley smiled a bit and continued petting the golden retriever puppy.

“Hey,” he whispered and pulled her into a side hug. Peter melted when he felt her snuggling in. “You’ll find someone new who’s even better than a guy who names himself the Joker. I mean, seriously, who names himself that?” Harley, now on the verge of crying, let out a wet laugh before sniffling a bit. “There’s no need to cry over someone so worthless, Harls. You’ll find someone. And even if you don’t, you always have me. I’ll always be here.” Harley leaned outwards a bit and looked at him with fat tears in her eyes, nearly rolling down her cheek.

“Always?” The small voice broke his heart and the look of pure hopelessness completely shattered it.

“Always,” he agreed. She buried her head into his shoulder, trying to keep the tears in. Then, out of nowhere, his Spidey Sense started blaring like it never did before. To be honest, his Spidey Sense was always on alert in Gotham (hell, even in his own New York City, it was alert), but this brought it to another level. Acting without thinking, Peter hoisted Harley and Piper into his arms and ran into the bathroom connecting to the room.

He laid a confused Harley and a barking Piper into the bathtub before rushing to close the door with a slam. He quickly went to his best friend and their pet and climbed in as well, using himself as a shield between them and the door. Bracing one hand above Harley’s head, he used his other arm to pull close the shower curtains and braced for impact. Before Peter could say anything to explain, a large explosion sounded through the thin walls of their apartment. It was directly in the bedroom and had the door shattering and splintering across Peter’s back through the plastic shower curtain. Peter cringed at the loudness of the explosion, his ears protesting.

A maniacal laugh pierced through his ringing ears. Harley and him froze, immediately knowing who this was.

“Oh Harley~” a singsong voice came through and Peter turned around, furiously opening the shower curtains to look at the Joker through their now decimated bedroom wall. “You shouldn’t have left me, darlin’. Now you’re going to regret it~” He said with a loud giggle that sounded all kinds of wrong.

The Joker’s green hair was slick back and a few oily strands fell into his red rimmed eyes, a stark contrast to his paper white skin and the tattoos that littered his face and neck. Yellow teeth clenched together in an angry, sick smile that would probably haunt Peter through his nightmares. “Don’t worry though. It won’t hurt.” Another wider grin stretched across his pale face. “Much.” More laughter.

“You stay away from her!” Peter shouted and in an instant, the smile was gone from Joker’s face. Instead, a sneer, condescending and threatening, replaced it.

“You!” He hissed with conviction. “You’re the one who lured my dear away from me!”

“She’s not yours! She’s not anyone’s! You were abusing her!” He snarled from the bedroom’s hole.

“SHE’S MINE! NO ONE WILL TAKE HER FROM ME! LEAST OF ALL YOU,” he growled, “YOU LITTLE WHORE.” Before he could continue, however, the sound of sirens reached all of their ears. The Joker cursed, more oily strands of hair falling into his face. Using a gloved hand, he pushed the strands out of the way and cursed.

‘If Jimbo’s here, Batsy isn’t too far behind.’ And he didn’t want to get into a fight with such a man when he was so underprepared. ‘Fine,’ he thought petulantly, ‘this will have to wait.’

“Don’t think you’ve seen the last of me! Until next time, my dear!” He grinned that sick grin and wiggled his fingers in goodbye to Harley who had peeked from behind Peter to stare at her ex with horror. “This isn’t over~” He shouted as the helicopter finally left.

Peter stayed in place for a few minutes, even with Harley crying and Piper barking, to make sure he was really gone. Finally, Peter moved carefully and pushed himself away from the wall of the bathtub, helping Harley up who had Piper clenched tightly (not tight enough to hurt her) in her arms. She linked her arms with his and clung to him like a limpet.

Not that he really minded.

She needed him right now. Slowly, they moved towards the hole of their bedroom wall and peeked over to see multiple police cruisers and onlookers gawking at the side of the building. Peter glanced at the other sides of the building and was relieved when he saw that no other holes were blown into it. He then realized that this meant neither him nor Harley had anywhere to stay.

“Fuck,” he cursed, aware of Harley sobbing into his shoulder and getting his hoodie wet. Then he took a closer look at the people down below. “Well, would you look at that? Commissioner Gordon is here.”

-----

Peter and Harley, after assuring Jim (“Just call me Jim, Peter. It makes me feel so stiff when you call me Commissioner.”) that they didn’t need to go to the hospital, their shallow (really his shallow) wounds were treated in the back of an ambulance. He only had a couple of splinters and a few minor cuts where plaster and ceramic from the walls had hit him through the shower curtain.

A few minutes after the last of his wounds were treated (and he had no doubt that they would heal by tomorrow), sound low rumble of cars (if Peter could identify them properly) were alerted to his ears and both him and his friend turned their heads to see two expensive cars rolling up beside the cruisers.

Bruce Wayne and two of his four sons as well as Alfred came out of the car. Bruce, waving on his sons to go ahead, approached Jim with Alfred trailing behind him. Both Dick and Jason rushed up to Peter and Harley, though only having eyes for the smaller man.

“Are you alright?!” Dick practically screamed, taking Peter’s face into his hands and looking him all over, Jason hanging out in the background with his teeth bared. Dick's blue eyes were wide with concern.

“Dick, I’m fine. Let go.” He said but was more than touched at their care. “It’s just a few scratches. Everything’s okay. No one was hurt.” Dick let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping. Peter let out a little giggle that had him snapping his head up to look at his smiling face.

“Why are you smiling?” He asked, exasperated thought a bit fond. He was too cute for his own good sometimes.

“It’s just nice to know that someone cares.” Dick, as tough and unfeeling as he could be, softened at that and he laid a hand on Peter’s bare cheek, marveling at the softness.

“Of course I care.” Peter’s smile widened before it turned to concern when he felt Harley snuggle into his side a little more. Dick chuckled a bit. “Looks like she crashed. Must’ve been a rough day.”

“More than rough,” Peter murmured, not wanting to wake his best friend up. He then heard someone step up to them and looked up to see one of the people he hadn’t seen before. The man was in an EMT outfit but wasn’t one of the people that treated him or anyone else so Peter assumed he was the driver. He wore a bored expression on his face that raised Peter’s hackles a bit. So, as politely as he could, he asked,

“Yes?”

“Hi,” his tone was monotonous, “I’m here to collect your information so we can process you for billing and stuff like that. So, name?”

“Fuck,” Peter muttered, doe brown eyes narrowing in worry. How were they going to pay off an ambulance and medical care? This was America and he was sure that in nearly every version of America out there, it always had expensive health care. “Uh, yeah sure. My name’s-”

Before he could finish, Dick cut in with an obvious fake smile. At least, it was obvious to Peter. And while it was used to disarm people, it only served to frustrate the EMT, if the annoyed look he was giving Dick was anything to go by. In the background, Jason straightened.

“Excuse me but my friend and I were in the middle of a conversation. Could you perhaps ask that man over there? I’m sure he has the information that you’re looking for.” He pointed towards his adoptive father. The EMT looked up at Dick through beady eyes and shook his head.

“Look buddy. This is the dude we need to bill. He’s the one who needed it the most. So if you’ll excuse me-” Jason hauled him off by the back of shirt without a sound, the EMT letting out a strangled gasp as he felt his body being dragged backwards. Dick continued smiling and Jason ignored Peter’s startled shout of his name.

“Wait, Dick. You can’t do that. That’s my responsibility. I-”

“Will let us take care of it. There’s no way that you’ll be able to foot this bill, gorgeous and we’re not able to let you.” Peter hissed, his nose scrunching up adorably.

“Well, it’s not exactly like I can pay you back, can I?” A mischievous smile lit up Dick’s face at that.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” Another voice cut in, deeper and holding more authority that made Peter immediately bow his head a bit.

“The way you can repay us, Peter,” Bruce Wayne looked at him, eyes soft and body relaxed, “is to let us take care of you. You’ve had a stressful day and so has your friend. We’ll take it from here, so don’t worry.” Jason lumbered over and towered over both his and Harley’s sitting forms as if to intimidate them into agreeing.

“But, sir,”

“Bruce,” the head of the Wayne household immediately corrected, causing Peter to pause.

“Bruce,” he resumed, a bit slowly, as if trying out the name on his tongue, “I couldn’t possibly do that. I was raised better,” he deadpanned, causing Bruce’s lips to twitch a bit. “Harley and I can just go to a motel or something for the night and figure everything out in the morning. Harley, wake up." Peter started to shake Harley, who groaned a bit. "C'mon Harls. We need to go-” He was interrupted again.

“Look, angel. This can either go one of two ways. One is that you accept our help and thank us because we like you and so we’re helping you because of that. Second is that you can refuse, which is totally up to you. But we’ll force our help on you, whether you like it or not, in front of all these people out here. And after the day you’ve had, I’m not so sure you want that. But that’s your problem, not ours. I’m not sure about Dick, but Brucie and I are pretty good with force.” The grin on Jason’s face was sharp and Peter shivered a bit, his Spidey Sense activating to full alarm again. “It’s totally up to you though. So," Dick joined Jason in front of Peter and Harley, face more firm than Peter's ever seen it, "what’s it gonna be?”

Peter was silent for a few moments, staring into the faces of the three Wayne family members and gaging their seriousness. What he saw scared him. The set lines in their faces, the resoluteness of their eyes and the slight tilts of their bodies told Peter they were dead serious; that they were ready to force him to comply if he didn’t do it willingly. Shivering and going against every nerve in his body, he finally agreed.

“Fine,” he said through clenched teeth, glaring up at the rugged and handsome face grinning down at him.

“Knew you’d see it my way, angel.”

-----

He had greeted Alfred on his way in the car, carried in Jason’s arms, while Harley was in Dick’s. Dick had kicked up a fuss about not being able to carry Peter but everyone ignored him. It was kind of funny. The drive back to the Wayne’s house was silent and long and the every bump the car had jostled his small injuries, causing him to wince.

Noticing the flinch, Jason tightened his grip on the smaller man, coincidentally bringing him closer to his chest in an effort to stop his hurt. By the time they had gotten to their residence, Peter was sure some of his smaller wounds had already healed. Stepping out of the car (after refusing Jason’s attempts to carry him again), he marveled at the sight. This wasn’t a house, this was a mansion. It was as large and gothic as the rest of Gotham, with shadows in every crevice and an ancient presence.

“Woah,” he breathed out in awe. Dick sidled up next to him, Harley in his arms (surprisingly, she was still asleep).

“Pretty cool, huh? Wait till you see the inside.” He moved forward, Peter trailing behind with Jason walking next to him and Bruce and Alfred in front. They moved through the front door, Jason closing it behind them without so much as a creak.

“I will go and get your rooms ready. Master Bruce, I assume you will treat our guests with the respect they deserve and make sure to warm them up while I do that?” Bruce, surprisingly, only nodded at the butler’s words and the older man silently left through a hallway, disappearing through the darkness.

“Come on, Peter. I’ll show you to one of the family rooms. Jason, can you get some tea ready?” As silent as a shadow, Jason left Peter’s side through a door opposite to the hallway Alfred left through, presumably to boil some tea.

As he moved through the mansion with Bruce, Dick and Harley (she was still asleep), he couldn’t help but look all around him in awe. It was so cool to him how someone could live in a place like this. It was similar to the Avenger’s Tower but different in that he could tell this place had a lot of history behind it.

They finally arrived through a hallway that led them into a room with a roaring fireplace and a TV above, with bookshelves lining on either side of it. A couple couches and armchairs were situated in front of the fireplace and on one couch sat a large figure, hunched over and elbows on the tops of their knees.

The figure scoffed.

“What was such an emergency that father had to be pulled away but I had to stay, Grayson?” His head turned and his body promptly froze. Green eyes met doe brown and the man couldn’t help yelling out,

“You?!” Peter, not at all surprised, smiled and waved.

“Hey Damian!” Their loud voices woke Harley up, who startled in Dick’s arms and without opening her eyes, pushed her fist upwards, catching the handsome man in the jaw.

“Where’s the fire?!” She slurred, obviously still tired.

“Fuck!” Dick groaned. “I think I chipped a tooth!” Harley started struggling in his arms, causing Dick to nearly drop her. “Damnit Harley, stop wiggling around!” He grappled with her for a moment, while Harley grabbed the nearest object, which happened to be Bruce’s suit sleeve, and pulled, dropping her full weight suddenly. This caused both men to stumble over each other and onto the floor, both grunting the whole way as Harley continued squealing.

Meanwhile, Peter and Damian were locked into a sort of horror/happy staring contest.

Tim stared at the scene in the doorway, cup of coffee (Alfred would scold him for that later. It was worth it.) raised halfway to his lips.

“Well, this is chaotic.”

Previous: Part 4

Next: Part 6

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 4: 

Peter’s eye twitched.

“What do you think?” Dick, actually seeming a little nervous, gulped a bit. Peter almost smiled when he heard him, this being a big contrast to how he was when they first met. The cocky facade was down, probably due to Peter’s rejection of “help” from him.

‘Good,’ he thought with mild satisfaction before sighing. “What are you doing here Dick?”

“Just wondering about my uh-” Dick scratched the back of his neck, “gift?” Peter looked at him stoically.

“What about it?”

“Well, why reject it?” Peter’s eyebrow twitched imperceptibly.

“It’s as I said, Dick,” he put special emphasis on his name, “I don’t need your fucking charity. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get my things.” Dick sputtered as the chestnut haired boy moved around him to organize his belongings.

“You need it though. Why not take it?” Not looking up, Peter replied,

“It’s the same thing with Slade. I can take care of myself.” Finished with putting his meager possessions together, he shouldered his backpack and made to move around Dick who percepted him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Look,” his voice became louder and a bit higher pitched, Peter’s annoyance at Dick rising exponentially. He was in the way of him getting to Harley, something Peter didn’t appreciate. The superpowered human took a breath.

“I can work for myself and earn money. If you want to get into charity, I can refer you to other people and/or organizations who can much more appreciate the work you’re trying to do, but I do not take handouts. I will not and you can’t make me.”

The handsome man’s face darkened at these words and Peter curled in on himself a bit, wary of the sudden dangerous aura that surrounded Dick, a far cry from earlier. It seemed that there were many sides to this man and Peter was more than hesitant to discover more. Dick, who noticed Peter flinching away, brought his features back to its pleasantness, aptly understanding that his interest was cautious and that he’d have to show more restraint. His eyes narrowed.

“Even if I can’t make you accept it outright, I definitely have other methods.” Peter grit his teeth and glared up at the blue eyed man.

‘Ugh,’ he thought as a phantom headache started flaring up, ‘this going nowhere.’ He might as well just leave. Peter readjusted his grip on his backpack and forcing his way past the hand on his shoulder, he walked around Dick and towards the exit of the shelter, ignoring the pouding footsteps running after him. Once he was outside, the footsteps slowed to a walk right next him. Peter peeked at Dick out of the corner of his eye and nearly groaned in frustration at the jovial expression on the handsome man’s face.

“Is there something you need?” Dick kept his face forward, though Peter could tell that his smile widened.

“Nothing at all. I’m just walking you home.” Dick turned his head to Peter, causing Peter to do the same. The grin was suddenly replaced by a smirk, and Peter got the creeping feeling of an ulterior motive, though he couldn’t be sure what it was yet.

“Whatever,” he muttered, pissed off. He couldn’t do anything about it, however, since all he would spout was nonsense about having to protect Peter. They continued to walk in silence for the next couple of blocks before they passed an alleyway. Deep within the darkness of it, Peter’s sensitive hearing could pick up the nearly silent sound of a whimper. His head snapped to the alleyway and the need to help the being that uttered the pitiful whine grew.

“What is it?” Dick asked, confused. Peter didn’t answer and made to head down the alleyway. Dick grabbed his arm in alarm. “What the hell are you doing?!” Peter shook off the hand and glared at Dick, putting a finger to his lips and silently shushing him.

“Be quiet!” He whispered and went down the alley, Dick following with steadily rising anticipation, hyper aware of the multiple weapons secretly stashed on his person, in case something were to go wrong. Both their footfalls were quiet and the whimpering suddenly got louder. Peter reached for his phone and put it onto the flashlight setting, searching for the source of the sound. A blue tarp covered a large figure of something and Peter paused for a moment, his Spidey Sense strangely quiet, before something underneath the tarp moved.

Quickly, the chestnut haired boy bent down and lifted the tarp, safely knowing there was nothing dangerous underneath. The tarp opened to reveal several buckets of cardboard and a small golden retriever puppy. It was on its stomach, shivering and looking up at Peter pitifully, brown eyes and golden fur wet. Peter’s heart broke and after handing his phone to Dick, who helpfully pointed the flashlight, he kneeled, reaching slowly for the puppy. It flinched and its whimpers became louder but it didn’t move away.

‘Or it can’t move away,’ Peter thought as he spotted some blood matted fur on the puppy’s right paw. As gently as he could, he gathered the puppy in his arms, shushing it when it let out a loud cry. He unzipped his hoodie and placed the puppy within, holding an arm underneath to support it and closed his jacket in order to get some warmth into the poor thing.

“Where’s the nearest vet?” He asked Dick, who paused to think for a moment.

“There’s one about a couple of miles away. Why?”

“I need to take care of it. Obviously.” Dick furrowed his eyebrows.

“You’re keeping it?”

“Of course.” Peter said it like it was supposed to be obvious. Dick stared for a moment before nodding and gesturing to him to follow. Peter nodded and they made their way out of the alley. He waited for Dick to lead the way before the dark haired man’s face lit up. He raised a finger and pulled out his own cell phone, Peter’s still in his other hand.

“Hey, can you come and pick me up? I’m on-” Dick rattled off their current location. Peter raised his eyebrow when Dick hung up, a cheeky smile stretched on his face.

“Who was that?”

“You’ll see!” He said cheerfully. And he did. Not five minutes later, an expensive looking black car pulled up in front of them. Dick hurried before Peter and pulled the door open for him, causing Peter to blush.

“Thanks,” he muttered, unaware of the satisfied smile on his companion’s face as he slid ungracefully into the warm car, careful of the puppy. Dick slid in after and gave another grin to an unimpressed looking (in Peter’s professional opinion) older man.

“Thanks for picking us up Alfred! Was it a bad time?” Still unimpressed looking (still in Peter’s professional opinion), the older man shook his head.

“Of course not, Master Dick. I am always available to help. May I inquire about your companions?” Peter stuck out the hand not supporting the puppy.

“Hello, Mr. Alfred! I’m Peter, an acquaintance of Dick’s. And this,” he unzipped the hoodie to show the puppy resting, now sleeping, in Peter’s embrace, “is someone we just found. It’s nice to meet you.” Dick squawked.

“Acquaintance?!” Alfred nodded, hardly fazed, and replied in his British accent,

“And you as well, Master Peter, but please, call me Alfred. Now, I assume we are to go to the nearest vet?”

“If you could be so kind?” Peter replied politely, glaring at Dick as he snickered which started to turn into full out laughing. Irritated, Peter elbowed him roughly, a satisfied feeling filling him as Dick clutched his side. The blue-eyed man leaned forward and clutched the back of the passenger seat.

“Alfie!” He called out like he was drowning or in immense danger. “He elbowed me!” Peter rolled his eyes as Alfred replied,

“It is not something undeserved, Master Dick,” in his kindest tone which, in Peter’s opinion, made it all that much funnier. Dick sputtered and Peter started to chuckle.

“The betrayal!” He whined, scandalized. The next couple minutes were filled with Dick’s overdramatic tendencies. When they arrived at the still-open-but-nearly-closing vet, Alfred turned over the driver’s seat.

“You are being much too dramatic, Master Dick.”

“I AM THE DRAMA!” Dick cried (if you know, you know). Peter scoffed with amusement and kicked Dick in the knee. “What?!”

“Are you going to get out? The vet’s gonna close if I don’t go now.” Dick sniffed and begrudgingly got out, holding the door for Peter again, who managed to not blush.

“Can you stay Alfred? We’ll be as quick as we can.” Peter’s eyes widened.

“Oh, that’s okay Dick. I can take care of this myself. You go ahead and head home.” He frantically tried to get him to go home, but apparently he didn’t want to. Dick shook his head.

“I can’t do that, Peter. You shouldn’t be walking the streets alone at night, even if you are a guy.” Alfred peeked his head out of the car.

“He is correct, Master Peter. It is especially dangerous amidst the darkness. So please allow us both to help and get you to safety.” Peter hesitated which allowed Dick to surge forward to grab the arm not supporting his precious cargo and gently guiding Peter forward into the building.

“You said it’s gonna close if we didn’t hurry right? Let’s go!” Peter sputtered.

“If I didn’t go! Not we!” He went ignored.

“Wait for us, Alfred!” With that, Peter was unceremoniously pulled into the veterinary’s building. He stumbled, jostling the puppy, who woke with a whine. He righted himself and glared up at the man with him, who only grinned momentarily before going to the front desk and ringing the bell. A crash in the back caught their attention and a frazzled woman came to the front, a frown on her face.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked in concern, joining Dick at the front.

“Huh?” Her eyes caught both of them. “Uh, yeah!” A fake smile lit up her face and Peter’s Spidey Sense thrummed to life, though a bit lowly. Strange. Though not the strangest thing that’s ever happened to him. “Anyway, what can I help you with?” Peter unzipped his jacket to show the whining puppy and the woman’s eyes softened.

“I think it has a cut on their leg or paw.” The woman, her name tag reading Dr. Tasha, nodded.

“I’ll see what I can do. This way.” She led them back and into an examination room. It was quick, as it turns out it was just a cut on the puppy’s paw. With some cleaning and bandaging of the cut and advising that they try to keep the puppy off their paw for a couple days, they were free to go.

“Thank you Dr. Tasha!” Peter called as both he, Dick, and Peter’s new puppy made their way out of the building. Alfred was still waiting like Dick had instructed. Dick opened the door for him again but Peter shook his head. “I’ll just walk.” Dick groaned.

“Petey, I don’t want to have this conversation again. Get into the car before I make you.” Peter’s features twisted but like he knew what was about to happen, Alfred rolled down the passenger seat window.

“Master Peter, I have known and raised Master Dick since he was a boy. I promise you he is a gentleman. He will not let someone such as yourself, or anyone be on the streets if they are not equipped. Neither will I. Please, for your safety, the puppy’s safety and our peace of mind, do let us accompany you home.” It was the look that Alfred gave him that did him in. Begrudgingly, Peter entered the open door, the puppy clutched in his arms and Dick followed him in. “Thank you, Master Peter. Now, where do you live?”

Peter listed off the address and sat back as the car started to move. A minute in, the puppy started whining again and gnawing at the bandage around its paw.

“No,” Peter chided, gently prying the paw away from the puppy’s snout, “you can’t do that.” The puppy looked up at Peter, now more comfortable with him and tilted its head in question, its large eyes curious. Peter, playing along, tilted his head too and raised his eyebrow.

“What?” It came forward on his lap and leaned its paws against Peter’s chest, raising its head towards his face. Peter stayed still and suddenly, a small, pink tongue licked his cheek, leaving little bits of slobber all over. The brown eyed boy laughed, which caused the puppy to become more excited. It started licking Peter all over and he laughed even more, gently pushing the puppy away and wiping away the slobber. “You are so cute!” Peter scratched along its ears and it barked adorably, tongue hanging out and tail wagging with vigor. “Yes you are! You are so cute!” It was as if everyone else in the car disappeared.

Dick, on the other hand, watched the scene with growing interest and horror. Interest because it was interesting to watch Peter interact with something else. Horror because despite Alfred’s claims of him being a gentleman, Dick felt the rising want to grab Peter and smother him. This was just too cute for him. So, with a red face and embarrassment, Dick turned, angling his body away from Peter so the innocent boy would be able to see the “problem” with him.

Peter heard the rustling of clothes and found Dick turning away from him. He frowned.

“Dick? Are you okay?” Muttering answered his question.

‘Weird,’ Peter scoffed internally. He turned back to the puppy, who he had found was a girl. ‘What to name her?’ He put it on a mental checklist.

“Is he a weird, bad man?” The small bark of response made Peter giggle. On the other side of the car, Dick hid his face and in the front seat, Alfred gave a private, small smile.

-----

Tony groaned.

“I’ve been staring at this screen for so long, even my coffee cup is sore.”

“I don’t think cups can be sore, boss. Also, I think the term you’re looking for is ‘coffee mug.’” Tony growled playfully.

“One more sassy word out of you, FRIDAY, and it’s reprogramming for you tonight!”

“I apologize, boss,” FRIDAY replied, sounding not at all sorry, “I was just doing my job.” The genius muttered under his breath. He cursed the day he decided to make AI’s. Speaking of days. Tony blinked.

“FRI, what day is it?”

“If you’re asking about how long you’ve been awake, it has been about 72 hours, sir. Stephen will not be pleased.”

“Shit!” He cursed. “Don’t tell him-” As if on cue, the doors to his lab slammed open and heavy footsteps approached him. He looked up at his husband of one year with a sheepish smile on his face.

“Don’t tell me what, oh dear husband of mine?” Tony stood up suddenly, ignoring the rush of dizziness that washed over him and backed up, his spouse matching every foot.

“Oh nothing, honey. Just that-”

“That you’ve been ‘sciencing’ again and have been neglecting your health? Again?” Tony froze, his back reaching one of the walls of his lab, and scratched the back of his head.

“Uhh. No?” Stephen hummed, blue eyes piercing down onto his husband’s.

“Lying, are we?” Tony gulped, eyes searching around for any modes of escape. There were none.

“No?” Blue eyes sharpened and Stephen gestured to Tony, who’s eyes widened when Capey (as Peter so aptly named it) lifted itself from Stephen’s shoulders and wrapped tightly around the billionaire as he gasped, floating behind Stephen as he led them out of the lab. He tried wriggling but no amount of struggling could get him free.

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Stephen?”

“Close down the lab.” Tony looked down at Stephen in exasperation.

“Wait! No, FRIDAY-”

“Of course.” Tony shouted all the way up to the bedroom, yelling across rooms and still struggling inside Capey. No one listened, of course. Stephen stopped in front of the master bedroom and opened the door, Capey and Tony floating through and softly rested on the bed, the billionaire still wiggling around.

Stephen, on the other side of the room, shut the door and immediately shed his outer coat, placing it on an armchair. Tony watched, still struggling to get free, his eyes confused and tired. His husband loosened his tie, taking it off, before reaching down to unbutton his cufflinks, and rolling his sleeves up. He looked at the man on the bed for a moment before snapping his fingers.

Capey released Tony and he sat up, about to get off the bed until Stephen snapped his fingers again and golden bands restricted his arms and legs, multiple glowing restraints latching his arms behind his back and his legs together, from his upper arms to his wrists and from his thighs to his ankles. Tony fell back onto the bed, landing uncomfortably on his inhibited limbs with a cry of alarm. His husband came forward to sit on the edge of the bed and with another snap of his fingers, Tony teleported. Onto his husband’s lap, face down.

His face burned.

“FRIDAY, turn on the recording camera.”

“Yes.” The sound of mechanical whirring came and Tony knew that the camera was on.

‘Shit,’ he thought before the belt around his waist was taken off and his pants and underpants were shoved off, the bands loosening to accommodate for his clothes falling down to the floor, leaving him just in a tattered T-shirt. The belt was thrown across the room, Tony flinching when it seemed to smack something.

“Wait, Stephen-” He was interrupted once again when he yelped at the feeling of a smooth and steady hand coming down on his bare bottom, the hands of a man of medicine and now Sorcerer Supreme (an assholish name if you asked Tony).

“Be quiet Anthony,” a rough, stern voice commanded. A golden band, seemingly thicker than those on his body came to rest at his neck and it seemed that no matter how much he tried, no noise could escape from his mouth. He looked up at his husband in horror, who smirked in response. “A new spell. Do you like it?”

Tony shook his head and another slap came to his ass. He jolted.

“It seems that the last punishment hasn’t made as much of an impression as I had hoped. We’ll have to try again. Oh, and,” Stephen paused and reached down to gently press against Tony’s bare cock, the billionaire moaning softly at the contact. It wasn’t long before he felt something constricting at the base. Tony’s eyes widened even more. “No coming until I allow you to. When I’m through, you’ll be begging. Won’t you, husband?”

‘Again,’ he thought through cry after cry as Stephen’s hand came down repeatedly on his ass, the hand eventually turning into a paddle of some kind, ‘shit. FRIDAY is definitely getting reprogrammed.’

------

“No. More. Neglecting. Your. Health. Do. You. Understand?” Each word that came out was punctuated by a harsh thrust into Tony’s upturned, presented, red, and bruised bottom, said man crying through the inhibitor around his throat, no sound coming through. The bands around his legs had long been wished away, though the restraints along his arms stayed where they were.

Tony’s face was mushed into a pillow wet with tears and drool, occasionally turning to the side to breathe.

It had been hours already, and while Stephen, being Sorcerer Supreme and knowing spells to increase stamina and strength, was not affected in the least, Tony had almost had enough. His cock was straining against the band at the base of it, sensitive and leaking everywhere, desperate for the release Tony’s body so craved.

Too bad Stephen had yet let him, though Tony had a suspicion that everything was going to end soon. Stephen grunted behind him, thrusts becoming sharper and Tony knew that he was about to come for the tenth time that night.

“I said,” a few thrusts with increasing speed and strength, and the band around Tony’s throat disappeared, releasing his voice, “do you understand?”

“Yes!” Tony cried through Stephen’s approving hum, and the blue-eyed man harshly brought the billionaire’s ass to meet his equally rough thrusting and pleasure, a familiar heat, a hot burn started to sear through Tony’s gut, wrenching tighter and tighter, the tightest it had been all night. Tony moaned loudly, crying for release. Stephen leaned forward, still bucking into his husband’s tight heat, and whispered into Tony’s ear.

“Good. Now, come.” when Stephen’s hips stuttered, the restraint around his cock disappeared and Tony came. Stars exploded across his vision before a bright whiteness overtook the stars.

“FUCK!” Tony screamed, body shivering at the explosion of pleasure, tingles shooting all over his body. It seemed to reach from the roots of his hair to the soles of his feet, and his body convulsed. Stephen emptied himself into Tony and breathed heavily, staring down at the prostrated body of his husband, certain for sure that he finally got the message. Tony collapsed on the bed, eyes blurry with tears and off to sleep. Stephen chuckled.

“You can turn it off now, FRIDAY. I think he learned his lesson.”

“Yes.” Stephen stood up and went to grab all the things necessary for cleaning up. It was time for some well earned sleep.

-----

“Boss!” FRIDAY’s loud voice came over the built in speakers, jolting Tony and Stephen awake, the former groaning as he sat up too quickly. His entire body was sore, his ass even more so. Tony glared over at Stephen who raised an eyebrow, smug satisfaction showing on his handsome face. Tony huffed.

“What is it, FRI?”

“Peter’s gone missing!” Alarm and panic shot through both their systems.

“WHAT?!”

-----

“So this is where you live?” Peter paused in playing with Piper, his new Golden Retriever puppy, and looked at Dick who had long disappeared out his weird funk.

“Well, where I’m staying.” Dick raised an eyebrow at the dinginess and gloom that seemed to hang over the apartment building.

“Then who lives here?”

“My friend.” Dick hummed.

‘I wonder if this friend is willing to move apartment buildings,’ he thought with a devilish smirk. An idea was forming in his head and he knew just how he could get Peter to accept his favors. Peter opened the door and shouted a thank you to Alfred for driving him home. He hesitated, Dick staring at him.

“I’ll see you later, Dick.” With that, he closed the door, a wiggling puppy in his arms and made his way into the building, knowing full well that it accepts pets. His face was extremely red. Dick chuckled and Alfred pulled the car out of the parking space and onto residential roads.

“Alfred,” he called.

“Master Dick?”

“Remind me to call Kara when I get home and to look into apartment buildings close to the manor.” Alfred was silent for a moment before replying.

“Of course, Master Dick.” They were silent the rest of the ride home.

-----

“Harley? I’m back!” The door opened to reveal a tired Harley, who was likely asleep. “Sorry, did I wake you?” She shook her head.

“No,” Harley yawned and rubbed her eyes, “I was waiting for you.”

“Well,” Peter said with a smile on his face, “I have a present for you.” His friend stood at attention and waited. From behind his back, Peter brought forward a calmer Piper, who started wagging her tail as soon as she saw Harley. Harley squealed.

“OMG! Puppy got a puppy!” Peter huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, I supposed I did,” Peter beamed, happy that there was at least some sort of normalcy to this night.

“What’s its name?” Harley’s eyes were wide with joy, her baby blues sparkling, even through the pain that was evident.

“Her name is Piper. She’s your new rescue and support.” Harley sniffled with what Peter was guessing was happy tears.

“You mean, our new rescue and support. How did I ever get so lucky?” Peter smiled at his friend, genuinely enjoying their moment.

“You deserve it.”

------

“So….” Steph trailed off, looking at Peter with puppy dog eyes, causing Peter to roll his own. He was back at work, all his stuff at Harley’s indefinitely at the moment. The Captain’s Bar was louder than usual, he noticed, even with Slade there, sitting right next to Steph and Babs.

“So what, Steph?” He pointedly did not look at her, lightly scratching at a smudge on a glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steph stretch her arms over the wooden counter, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Are you free when you’re done here?” Peter paused to think for a moment. When he was sure there was nothing else on his schedule, he said yes. Steph’s eyes lit up, Babs’ nodding along, even though she was on her phone. “Great! Wanna hang with us at our usual place?”

Suddenly, Babs’ head snapped over to her, and the redhead pulled on the blonde’s arm to get her attention. “What? What’s the problem?”

Whispering commenced and Peter decided to stay out of it.

“Oh my God, just ask him.” Barbara groaned but typed on her phone, nonetheless. Steph continued to smile jovially. Finally, a couple minutes later, a notification appeared on Babs’ phone, obviously a confirmation if the way the blonde cheered was any evidence.

“Yeah, we have a hang out if you want to come with, Pete. It’ll be fun.” Slade side-eyed the trio, keeping a careful gaze on Peter, who didn’t take long to nod and agree with a small smile.

“Sure thing! Can I bring a friend though? She’s been going through a nasty break up and I don’t want to leave her alone for too long.” Steph and Babs shared a look and after a quick but silent conversation, both reluctantly agreed.

“Well,” Slade started, “if you’re going, sweetheart, I’m definitely going too.”

“I look forward to it, Slade!” The beaming grin on the cute boy’s face nearly made Slade blush. ‘Cute,’ he thought with an internal smile.

“I can’t wait to let you meet some others! You already know Dick, but there’ll be some other people there too!” A chuckle escaped the brown eyed boy.

“I can’t wait either.”

About an hour later, Peter, who had shot a text to Harley saying to meet him in front of the Captain’s Bar, met Harley outside and they went on a little adventure to Steph’s and Babs’ ‘lair’ as they called it. They were given directions, Harley nervously clinging onto Peter’s arm, and finally arrived at a large, elegant (as elegant as you can get for a club) gothic looking building. There were already bouncers outside of the club, even though it was only about 7 in the evening. Peter and Harley approached, Harley shrinking behind Peter.

“Uh,” Peter said nervously when they didn’t even react.

“Invitation only, kid,” the bouncer said, looking down on him menacingly. Peter gulped.

“Yeah, we were told to come here by Stephanie Brown? Do you happen to know her?” Peter wrung his hands, the bouncer’s eyes narrowing. He reached for the walkie-talkie hanging at his hip, talking into it. Deep inside the club, Peter could hear the

“Hey Steph, there’s a little guy and lady here to see you. Says they know you or something.” A chipper response was sent over the device and the bouncer shrugged and let them pass. “Just head straight, you’ll find a door that says VIP. Just say you’re with Steph to the guards.” They did just that, bypassing the guards at the door with ease, Peter’s Spidey Sense tingling strongly the entire time.

They entered the long hallway, and the door at the end opened, revealing a happy and smiling Stephanie Brown, Babs looming behind her with a gentle smile on her face as well.

“You guys made it!” Seeing Harley, Stephanie’s smile became a bit sharper, before the smile dropped altogether.

“Harley Quinn?” His friend’s grip on his arm tightened and he placed a hand on her’s to comfort her. Peter’s eyes softened and he took his arm out of her grip to hook it around her waist and pull into a one armed hug.

“Yup! This is the one and only Harley Quinn. She’s been going through a hard time so I invited her.” Steph and Babs’ faces, once hardened and suspicious, softened as well, hearing that Peter was willing to vouch for her.

“Of course, Pete,” said Barbara, her expression welcoming, “any friend of yours is a friend of ours.” Peter nodded, happy with the results and he could feed Harley relaxing a bit as well. They approached the door and Stephanie latched onto his other arm when he was close enough, giving him a goofy grin. Suddenly, a loud voice boomed in the room.

“Peter!” Dick was suddenly right in front of him, also grinning like a maniac.

‘A handsome maniac,’ Peter had to grudgingly admit.

“Dick,” Peter greeted with a monotone voice.

“Sweetheart.” Another figure joined their group, towering next to Dick.

“Slade! You made it!” Slade nodded, a semblance of a happy expression on his while Dick pouted.

“Why aren’t you glad to see me?”

“Huh, I wonder why,” Peter deadpanned. Dick got the message.

“Hey! I wasn’t the only one you know! He’s been giving you huge tips for weeks!” Dick pointed right at Slade, who was busy looking at Harley, tight against his side.

“But he’s not that large of an asshole.” A deep and familiar voice snorted.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think they’re both raging assholes.” Dick turned his head and stuck out his tongue, and Peter leaned over to look at who it was. Unsurprisingly (and correct to his assumption), Jason Todd sat lounging on a couch with a book in his hands.

‘Jane Eyre,’ he noted, noticing the cover. ‘Not bad.’ Across from him was Tim Drake, staring at him and Harley. The analyzing gaze made Peter uncomfortable, but he supposed that’s who Tim Drake was. An analyzing, calculated and cold man. At least, he must’ve been in this world.

“Hey wait,” Jason said, his eyes also knowing, but now with eyes of lit fire and amusement. “Aren’t you that guy from the gym?”

“Yeah? What of it?” Jason stood up, straightening to his full height. The Spidey Sense, while tingly strongly before, was on full blast alarm now and it took everything in Peter not to react. The large male stalked across the room, ending up on Dick’s other side, also looming over everyone.

“You owe me a fight.” A feral grin crossed his face and Harley shrunk into Peter’s embrace. Peter tightened his arm and stared up defiantly at Jason Todd, anxiety high but also another emotion flitting around as well. Peter scowled.

“I never agreed to anything nor do I owe you anything.”

“C’mon, princess. Kids like you need to learn how to defend themselves. Besides, I’ll guarantee it’ll be fun.” Peter finally identified that emotion as enthusiasm. He had missed fighting and being able to use his powers. However, in a world where there weren't any superpowered humans, he doubted that it would be normal. He also needed to lay low in order to find a way home. ‘Can I even leave? Because of Harley?’ Peter glanced in her direction before returning his attention towards Jason.

“Fun for who? You? Because I certainly wouldn’t have fun.” Jason must’ve picked up at least some habits from his brother, because he pouted, though it was like if a wolf or an equally scary predator pouted. It was quite weird. “Besides, I’d beat your ass quicker than you can say Charlotte Bronte.” Slade laughed out loud at this, Jason joining in.

Peter knew that they were laughing because they didn’t think he had the chops but that was fine. They didn’t need to know anyways. Steph, Babs and Dick were laughing and there was a chuckle from Harley too.

“I like this kid,” Jason said as he wiped a tear away from his eye, “he’s cute.”

“I’m glad you find me so amusing,” Peter deadpanned. Another harsh laugh followed as Jason returned to his perch. Dick and Slade moved out of the way as Steph pulled Peter in the direction of a table, two other people Peter hadn’t noticed due to Slade’s large frame sitting down already.

They were both focused on the papers that lay in front of them, though Peter could tell they were listening in and curious about the ruckus. Dick pulled out a chair for Peter and Slade for Harley, everyone in their little group sitting around them. Now that Slade was out of the way, Peter could clearly see who the two were.

Bruce Wayne and Commissioner Jim Gordon. He knew that they were friends in the original comics, but that was about it. Harley slid down in her seat and Peter grabbed her hand, rubbing a finger over her knuckles. She smiled weakly at him, and he returned the sentiment.

Unawares to them, the people around them stared at the action in jealousy.

“So Peter,” Steph purred, smiling brightly, “after Harley here, am I your bestest friend?” Peter knew she was quick, but he didn’t think she was this quick. He smirked.

“Of course, Steph. You and Babs.” The redhead snickered when she caught the betrayed look on Slade’s face. It was soon replaced with a sly expression however. Peter suddenly felt his left hand being picked up. His head snapped up to see Slade bringing it to his face, kissing the soft skin of the back of his hand and Peter blushed. Hard.

“What about me, sweetheart?” Steph and Dick burst.

“That’s cheating!”

“He’s mine, you old geezer!” Steph launched herself across the table and mushed her face into the side of Peter’s, continually rubbing against him like a cat, causing surprised laughter to escape from Peter. Dick gasped.

“Stephanie Brown!” He ran behind Peter and forced his arms around Peter’s neck, dislodging Steph’s face and pulled Peter back against his chest, rubbing the bottom of his chin against soft brown curls.

‘Heaven,’ Dick thought dreamily, ‘my little heaven.’ A sudden pale hand pushed Dick’s head away from Peter’s, though he couldn’t go far, what with his arms locked around his neck.

“No, he was mine first,” Harley pouted resting her head on Peter’s shoulder. Peter giggled and tried resting his head on her’s, but Dick wouldn’t allow it.

“You gotta learn how to share!” Some more squabbling went on, Peter assuring everyone but Dick they were liked. No one noticed Bruce and Commissioner Gordan watching nor did anyone notice Jason motioning to Tim to sit on the couch he was on, before standing up.

He silently approached behind Dick and pushed him out of the way, easily making him let go of the brunette. Peter, who barely had any time to react, was suddenly scooped up into a bridal hold, and he instinctively slid his arms around his captive’s neck, looking up at the face and seeing Jason. The older man said nothing, and walked back over to the couch where Tim was now sitting and sat down with Peter settled in the junction between his legs. Peter blinked before scowling.

It was about as cute as a puppy growling, trying to look intimidating.

‘Cute,’ Jason thought with amusement.

“What are you doing?” Peter’s legs, which were thrown over Jason’s large thigh, were suddenly settled into Tim’s lap, pale arms moving over and pressing into the legs.

“Wanted to see what the fuss was about,” Jason said while caressing the small of Peter’s back. Peter’s scowl deepened and everyone at the table migrated over the couch area. Harley flopped onto the couch he was on, right behind him and next to Jason Todd.

“Well, there’s no fuss so let me go.” Jason hummed, pretending to think about it.

“Yeah. No.” The older male picked up his book and began reading again, settling his chin over Peter’s locks like Dick did, with Peter’s ear to his heart, and arms on both sides of the brunette so he couldn’t leave. Peter huffed and tried lifting himself out of the hold, moving his legs as he did so.

It seemed that both Jason and Tim were anticipating this, however, and worked in tandem as a seamless team to keep Peter right where he was. Jason’s arms tightened exponentially, and Tim increased pressure on Peter’s legs. He grunted, realizing that he would have to use his superstrength to get out of this if needed. These people were just as dangerous as Steph, Babs, Dick, and Slade, if not more.

Peter was about to say something when the rustle of clothes and footsteps came over to where they all sat, Bruce Wayne first and Commissioner Gordan following. The Commissioner sat next to his daughter, pressing a kiss to the side of her head while Babs smiled and hugged her dad. Peter softened at the scene, some of his tenseness going away. Bruce Wayne sat in an armchair at the head in between the couches, exuding an air of power he doesn’t think even Mr. Stark had.

“Hello there,” the timber of Bruce Wayne’s voice made it sound like a bedroom voice, deep and heady. Peter flushed slightly but paid attention to him. Out of anyone he’s ever met, Peter’s Spidey Sense never reacted to anyone quite like it did to Bruce Wayne. Peter shrunk back a bit into the arm behind his back, and he noticed that Bruce’s blue eyes tracked the movement. It was as if he tracked every single movement, twitch, or shift he made. It was nerve wracking.

“Hello,” he replied shyly.

“You must be Peter. Dick and Steph have told me a lot about you.”

“Uh, all good things I hope?” The chest he rested upon rumbled with silent laughter. Bruce Wayne smirked.

“Of course. My name is Bruce Wayne. I’m sure you’ve heard of me before. I’m the owner of this establishment.” Peter furrowed his brows. He remembered reading somewhere that Bruce Wayne, in the original comics, had owned a technology firm, Wayne Enterprises. So what was this?

“You own WE and this place?” Bruce nodded, hiding a smirk. Peter knew it was there.

“And a few other ones like it. It gets kind of stressful but my family and I make it work.” Peter nodded, filling some information in.

“I’m sure it does, Mr. Wayne.”

“Please, call me Bruce.” Peter wrung his hands.

“Uh…” Bruce raised an eyebrow. Peter glanced at Babs, Steph, and Dick, who all nodded. Peter gulped. “Okay then, uh, Bruce.” The head of the Wayne household smiled, a certain sharpness to it.

“Anyway, how do you know my sons?” The conversation spiralled from there with people taking turns talking and sharing things. They laughed at Dick’s expense when he explained what had happened, him whining the entire time.

Bruce sat back and watched as they all bickered and argued, but with no actual heat. It had been a long time since anyone around the household and its associates were this relaxed. And it all happened when one boy crossed paths with everyone. Even Jim, his old friend, was laughing along with some things. The softness of the atmosphere was nice.

Until the sound of Tim’s groan permeated the area.

“I don’t get what I’m doing wrong! Seriously!” Bruce raised an eyebrow as everything quieted around them.

“This is why we pay people to get this kind of paperwork done for us, Tim.” Said man scowled at his adoptive father.

“You know I don’t trust anyone else to do it but me, B.” Jason snickered.

“And you’re suffering for it. But by all means, Replacement, suffer more. It’s fun to watch.” Tim sneered at Jason, turning his body to argue with his adoptive brother, revealing the papers in the meantime. Peter took one glance at it and knew exactly what was wrong.

“You have the wrong exponent.” Everyone stopped in their tracks, staring at Peter. Tim blinked.

“What?” Peter stared back and pointed at the paper.

“You have the wrong exponent. There should be a negative here. It changes the whole situation if it’s a negative.” Everyone turned their attention to Tim, who changed what Peter had said and began recalculating. It was five minutes of silence later that Tim collapsed against the back of the couch in relief.

“Finally. You,” Tim looked at Peter in reverence, “are an angel.” Jason hummed in agreement.

“He sure does look like one.” He grinned like a shark when Peter looked up at him with wide eyes. Dick, curious to know, asked,

“How’d you know that, Pete?” The brunette, pointedly ignoring Jason, shrugged.

“I just do.” It was silent for a moment before Slade whistled.

“Beautiful and smart. If I wasn’t in love before, I am now.” The whole of Peter’s face went red and he hid it in his hands, laughter and bickering resuming above him.

Bruce relaxed in his chair, a twitch of a smile that was rarely ever shown on his lips. It really was nice.

-----

Harley, who had long explained the situation of her boyfriend to Steph who had prodded, left with a happy smile on her face with promises of a girl’s night, clinging to Peter’s arm. It was way past midnight when they left.

By the time they had gotten home, Piper, who was being dog sat by one of their nicer neighbors, was sound asleep. Peter and Harley cooed at the pup.

“You look so much like her,” the alabaster skinned girl giggled. Peter rolled his eyes playfully and the rest of the night was spent in a relaxed state. Truly, it was one of the best nights Peter’s had in a long time.

-----

A couple of days passed and Peter got around to finally purchasing dog gear for Piper. He tried to connect the leash to her collar, becoming fondly exasperated when she couldn’t stop chasing her tail to let him do it. Eventually, he just picked her up and connected it before heading out the door, informing Harley of their adventure on their way out.

He didn’t stay to hear the reply.

They walked a couple blocks to the park nearby. There weren't any incidents at first but apparently, when Piper gets excited, there is no stopping her.

So when she suddenly tugged on her leash, Peter underestimated her strength and kept his grip loose, causing her to pull away from him and run around the park like hell was on her heels.

“Shit! Piper!” He ran as fast as he could, trying to get her under control and failing miserably. It eventually got to the point where he nearly had her. She followed along a paved path and ran around the corner, Peter right on her tail when he crashed into a hard chest, obviously muscled and obviously male.

The momentum of him caused him to bulldoze the guy over, and they fell, Peter landing on top of the man. It took a second for Peter to regain his senses.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” He scrambled off the man and looked around, seeing Piper starting to disappear in the distance. “Shit! No! Piper!” He called in the hopes of her actually listening and coming back. Big surprise, it didn’t work. The man, sitting himself upright, motioned for the large black dog behind him.

“Titus, go get that insolent puppy.” Obeying his master’s command, he jumped into action, running in the direction Piper was headed. Peter groaned and looked at the man, finding himself staring into the greenest eyes he had ever seen.

“I’m so sorry, I was walking my dog when she got out of control and I had to chase her down and-”

“Spare me your useless babbling.” Peter’s cheeks turned pink. “It does neither of us any good.”

“Sorry. Again. I really am.” The man sniffed.

“Yes, I heard you the first few times.” Peter stood up and reached down, offering a hand to the man. He sneered but took it anyway, Peter using his superstrength to pull him up. He looked mildly surprised.

“You are strong, but you do not look it.”

“Yeah, so I’ve been told. Look, I really am sorry. I can make it up to you, if you want. There’s a really nice coffee shop or something down the street. I can get you-”

“There is no need. I have already eaten today.” The chestnut haired hoy deflated.

“Really?”

And shit, if he didn’t look like a dejected puppy in Damian’s eyes. It was his ultimate weakness, his so-called hamartia.

“But,” he paused, asking himself if he was really going to do this. Yes, he was. “I am quite thirsty at the moment. Perhaps you can buy me something at that coffee shop.” Peter beamed up at the tall stranger, internally noting with a bitter tone that he was even taller than Jason or Bruce was. He did look familiar though. Peter’s eyes narrowed slightly.

‘Where have I seen hi-’ Peter’s thought was interrupted when the large black dog came up to them, holding Piper’s leash in his mouth, Piper following along.

“Thank you so much for getting her for me.” The man nodded at his dog.

“It is not me you should be thanking, but Titus.”

“Is that his name? Well, thank you very much Titus.” The large dog came forward and Peter sank onto one knee and let Titus sniff his hand, scratching behind his ears when he licked Peter’s hand. Piper whined.

“You are in big trouble when we get home, missy.” He held onto her leash tighter. “Anyway, my name’s Peter. Peter Parker. It’s nice to meet you.” Peter held out his hand. The stranger took it, stiffly shaking it. Peter giggled internally.

“I’m Damian Wayne. It is nice to meet you too I suppose.” The brunette smiled.

“Let’s get that coffee now, yeah?”

Previous: Part 3

Next: Part 5

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 3: 

“I can’t believe him!” Peter gritted out as he came at the punching bag with everything he had. Harley winced from the sidelines as she watched his knuckles become absolutely decimated every time his fists came down on the fabric of the bag.

“Maybe lay off a little, Pup? Your hands are looking a little,” she paused, staring at his hands in fascination, “worse for wear.” Peter blinked and looked down at his knuckles, a little shocked to see them split, bloody and bruised.

‘When did I start punching that hard?’

Harley clenched her teeth. She wasn’t unfamiliar with blood, far from it actually. With the amount of help Mister J needed on a weekly basis and her separate work, it was just a natural part of it. An occupational hazard, if you will. She didn’t enjoy spilling blood too much, unless someone really deserved it.

Then, she would really enjoy it, milk it for all it’s worth. However, on Peter, it was just wrong. It was a stark contrast with his pale skin and one she did not like. She wanted to scrub at it until it disappeared completely, so no trace of hurt or discomfort was showing on her friend.

“Here,” she said, holding her hand out to him, and he took it without question, “let’s go and clean that up, huh? Hey Renee! We’re gonna use your first aid kit!” Harley called back to her long time friend, who grunted.

“You know the people who work here?” His friend nodded and grinned.

“We’re pretty tight. Ran together some years ago.” Peter nodded in understanding.

“What did you guys do?” Harley’s smile dimmed a bit and quite noticeably to Peter.

“Ya’know, Puppy,” Harley looked at him with a sad and pleading expression, “you shouldn’t ask questions about things you don’t want to know the answer to.” Peter paused for a second and nodded in return. He’s been there before, not that she would know. He had yet to tell her anything about the other world or about his powers.

There wasn’t any magic here, no aliens, no Superman, no Wonder Woman, and no Batman. News reports didn’t say anything about superheroes and he hadn’t heard anything from Harley, the most accurate and trustworthy source of gossip he has.

Nothing made sense to him here. The only times he had asked about Batman and his associates, he was shut down instantly by Harley, who seemed scared shitless. Even the Joker, while notorious on the streets, wasn't as big a deal as he should’ve been had this world been the canon one.

In the back room, a small TV was playing live news as his alabaster haired friend pulled out a large box, a red cross adorning the side. Harley motioned for him to give his hands and he did without fuss, ignoring the small complaints that Harley gave. These wounds were nothing, after all.

It seemed that there was a large event going on, men in suits in front of a building, two men in the middle shaking hands and smiling towards the cameras that were no doubt flashing into their faces. One man was significantly taller than the other, towering over most people there. A handsome smile built onto his face like it was natural, but to Peter, it didn’t feel right. He was very handsome, with dark blue eyes that shined due to camera lights, dark and slicked back hair, and sun kissed skin. He cut an imposing figure, broad and bulky; it was obvious he worked out. Peter narrowed his eyes. He looked familiar.

“Looking at the news?” Harley asked and Peter hissed as she disinfected his knuckles. His friend murmured an apology, and he ignored the stinging pain, going back to observing the men on TV.

“Yeah,” he replied, “who are they?” Harley glanced at the screen.

“Wayne Enterprises probably expanded again. That must be the new partner and next to him is Brucie Wayne, CEO of WE.” It clicked as soon as she said Wayne Enterprises. Peter’s eyes widened.

Looking closer, he didn’t know why he didn’t see it before. The chestnut haired boy stared at Bruce Wayne for a few moments longer. It felt weird to him that comic book characters were real here. ‘Really weird,’ he thought before flashes of fast movement near the edges of the screen caught his attention. His eyes widened further when he saw a very familiar face. He turned back to Harley, who was wrapping his hands.

“Is Dick related to Bruce?” His friend paused in her actions, looking at him weirdly.

“Uh, yeah?” She stated it like it was obvious. “He’s one of Bruce Wayne’s adopted sons. Oldest of five.”

“Who are the other four?” Harley cut the medical cloth, taping it securely before closing the first aid kit and walking up to the TV. She pointed to two men standing beside Dick, both taller than the handsome annoyance in Peter’s life.

“This one,” she pointed to the tallest standing in the middle, “is Jason Todd. Real shady rumors goin’ around about him. Shady guy in general. Real bad anger problems. Smart guy though. And this one,” she pointed to the last man, “is Tim Drake, heir to the company. Extremely smart. Constantly tired looking. Jason hated him for a while before they seemed to make up. Last one’s Damian Wayne, Bruce’s only biological son and the littlest Wayne. He’s not here. Probably in school. There’s a daughter too. No one really knows about her, just that her name’s Cassandra Cain. She’s the second youngest and never really shows herself in public.”

Peter nodded and observed the Wayne kids that were on the screen. Jason Todd was the tallest by far, probably even taller than his adoptive father. He looked a lot like Dick did with dark hair and blue eyes, though he had a hint of green to them. Weirdest thing was that he had a streak of white going through his bangs. His posture told Peter that he was bored, with his hands in his pockets and his back slightly slouched. Dick nudged him multiple times and seemed to be scolding him mildly, not that he listened. A cocky smirk appeared on his face. Peter shivered. ‘Just like his brother,’ he thought. Next, Peter observed Tim Drake, who too looked like Dick.

‘Bruce Wayne must have a type,’ he thought with a bit of amusement. Long black was collected into a small ponytail at the base of his head, Peter observed as Tim turned his head to look in another direction. His skin was a lot paler than his brother’s and if Peter looked closely, he could see massive dark bags underneath his eyes. His posture was much better than Jason’s, back so straight that it almost looked natural. He smiled politely, though Peter could see that it wasn’t really genuine. Like his other family members, he was dressed immaculately in an expensive suit, but unlike the others, he was typing away at his phone, likely important business if the slight furrow in his brows indicated anything.

“How interesting,” he muttered. Harley’s features scrunched up from the corner of his eye and Peter smiled softly at the cute expression.

“I mean, if you say so, Pup.” Suddenly, his friend hissed. His head snapped towards her.

“What’s up?”

“You’re about to be late for work.” Peter cursed.

-----

Peter panted lightly as he rushed into work. Harley had wanted to come with him but had something else to do. He could already guess what it was.

“Sorry I’m late!” He called. There was no reply so Peter headed into the bar and began to work, but not before noticing a large figure hunched over the counter. Peter smiled. “Hey Slade.” Slade looked up at Peter, a small twitch at the edge of his mouth.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted softly and looked around, the twitch becoming a smug smile as he watched people avoid his gaze. “Seems real quiet in here today.” Peter too looked around and noticed that, yes, there wasn’t a fight like usual. There wasn’t even an argument. Peter tilted his head in confusion, a soft furrow in his brows which unknowingly made his large brown eyes larger.

“Weird,” he remarked. Slade glanced toward his favorite bartender, a chuckle rising in his throat. His sweetheart was just too cute. “Oh!” Peter exclaimed, causing the mercenary to look at him. “You know Dick Grayson personally right, Slade?” The older man’s one eye narrowed slightly, and he nodded, trying to ignore the small feeling of jealousy bubbling in his chest. “Can you give him something for me? If you’re going to see him soon?” Pushing the envious feeling aside, Slade nodded once more.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” Peter smiled sweetly, and Slade was sure that if he wasn’t so emotionally constipated, he would be blushing. Peter pulled a neatly folded envelope from his back pocket and pushed it towards him. “What’s in it?”

“You can see when Dick opens it. Also, tell me what his reaction is.” That piqued the mercenary’s interest.

“You know, you can just mail it to him. Where he lives isn’t exactly private.” Peter bit his lip, contemplating while Slade’s attention seemed to be on the plump bottom lip that was captured between white teeth. He internally groaned.

‘He’s gonna be the death of me.’ Peter finally seemed to decide something as he straightened up.

“No. It has to come from you. It’ll be funnier that way.” Slade cocked a silver eyebrow.

“Funnier?” Peter grinned, a note of mischievousness peeking from behind innocent, honey brown eyes.

“You’ll see.” Slade stared at him for a second more before shrugging.

“Alright,” he said as he shoved the envelope into his jacket pocket. “I see him tonight anyway, so it works out.” At this, Peter’s grin widened.

“Perfect.”

-----

Peter decided that a walk around the block was a good idea after work. It was quiet out, despite it being Gotham and even though he was tired, there was a restless energy inside him that he had to let out. He was smart enough to bring a thicker jacket this time, courtesy of Harley’s mothering ways. Peter also felt his thoughts quiet for once and he just continued to walk aimlessly, not noticing when he had taken a wrong turn.

It was only 30 minutes later that he realized that the place he stopped in front of had a familiar illuminated sign. Large red letters read, ‘BP Gym.’ He noticed that it was also still open, though empty. Then, his Spidey Sense started humming and he felt a strange pull towards the gym. Peter narrowed his eyes and without another thought, entered the empty looking space.

“Hello?” He called out cautiously, looking from one end of the room to the other, noting the security cameras in every corner. From behind the desk, he could see that the computers were still up and running so someone was here recently.

He was about to go behind the desk when a shout reached his ears, in the direction that Harley had led him this morning to the boxing ring, countless other punching bags and more workout equipment.

He rushed forward, following the grunts of struggle and burst into the open double doors to see two people inside the ring and a few spectators watching on the ground, his loud footsteps catching everyone’s attention. His pale face flushed as about five pairs of eyes stared at him intently.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “I thought I heard a struggle so..” Amused grins lit some faces and others lost interest. Peter observed those in the room. Some were familiar faces he had seen that morning, probably regulars or owners of the establishment. There were only two faces he hadn’t seen in person this morning.

Looking closer, Peter could see one face, grinning viciously with a split lip and a black eye, that looked very familiar to him. In the end, it was the white bangs that reminded him of who this was. ‘Jason Todd,’ he realized. Then, on one of the benches around the ring, sat his brother, Tim Drake, paying him no mind. Only one thought was running through his mind at that particular moment.

‘What the hell are they doing here of all places?’

“Hey,” one of the people he had seen this morning said, “you were with Harley today right? You’re new?”

“Uh, yeah! I just… ya’know, had some extra energy and uh,” he tried to puff up his shoulders like the intimidating man he was (he really wasn’t) but it ended up looking like a shrug more than anything, “aggression that I had to get out. So I was just hoping to use one of your bags?” The people still watching him huffed out some laughs and Peter felt his cheeks warm.

One of the women, Renee, Peter recalled from this morning, gestured for him to follow her but before they could go anywhere, a gruff and deep voice called out to them.

“Ya’know, instead of fighting the bags, why don’t you fight me?” Peter and Renee turned around to see Jason grinning down at them from the ring, the light bending around him to make him look more ominous than he already did.

“C’mon, Jay,” a redheaded male said from beside Jason, “that’s just not fair. He looks like he’d die the moment ya touched him.” Peter frowned at the statement. Jason snorted.

“He needs to learn how to protect himself. There are big, bad people out there.” He was just as obvious as he was mouthy. Peter caught on pretty quick and a streak of irritation flashed through him. There was no hesitation in Peter when Jason turned back to him and said,

“Whatcha say, kid?” Peter stamped down the feeling of annoyance and he turned back around, hearing Renee following after him over the sound of Jason scoffing about him to the man next to him and the unmistakable feeling of Timothy Drake’s eyes on his back.

“What the hell is my luck, running into the Wayne brothers?” He muttered to himself, taking care so that Renee could not hear. She went ahead of him, leading him to a small room, filling with hanging bags and weightlifting equipment.

“Here,” she grunted and left before Peter could thank her. He shrugged off his jacket and placed it onto a bench, heading over to a random bag. His hands were still wrapped from this morning but he had no doubt that the wounds had already healed. He spent at least an hour like that, hitting the bag, trying to get Dick out of his head.

‘Dick and his stupid money,’ were the only things running through his mind the entire time. It was around one in the morning when he stopped, his knuckles ruined like they had been that morning. He sat beside his jacket, his elbows on his knees and staring at the floor when the squeak of the door sounded. Heavy footfalls reached his ears and he looked up to see Jason Todd in all his glory, smirking at Peter.

“Can I help you?” Behind him, Peter could see Tim Drake, typing away on his phone, a concentrated look on his face. Jason shrugged his shoulders.

“Just wanted to see how you were holding up.” Peter levelled him with a look that said he didn’t believe him. Jason chuckled, his white bangs shaking with him.

“Tell me, do you make it a habit to proposition fights with people who look weaker than you?” The taller male gave Peter a toothy smile.

“Only when they look like they need it.” Peter narrowed his eyes, though by the way Jason’s smile became wider, he wasn’t that intimidating.

“Well I don’t need it, but thanks anyway.” Peter stood up and turned his back to Jason, grabbing his coat and making his way towards the door. He heard Jason following him but paid him no mind. Outside, in the hallway, he noticed a small water fountain and feeling thirsty, he headed over, passing Tim Drake without a glance. While he drank, Jason kept talking.

“Aw, don’t be like that, kid! I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime! I’m the best fighter in Gotham!” From behind him, Peter heard a foreign voice snort, likely Tim.

“Don’t let Damian hear you say that.” A scoff.

“Demon Brat has nothing on me.” The rustle of clothes reached Peter’s ears, likely someone shrugging. He finished drinking, thirstier than he thought. ‘On that note, hungrier too. I wonder if Harley’s home yet.’ He bypassed the Wayne brothers, making his way to the front while taking note that they followed him as well, both eyes burning into the back of his neck, analyzing and observant.

“Whadaya say kid?” Peter didn’t turn back to them.

“No thanks,” he said, pushing open the door to face the chilly night, “I don’t want to hurt you.” He started making his way to Harley’s apartment and if his super hearing picked up a harsh bark of laughter from inside the gym, he could always say it was a mistake.

-----

Slade made his way through the crowded room, music and bass booming loudly around him. It was at this point that he wished he had brought his earplugs. Everything was way too loud. He supposed he could blame that on getting older.

The mercenary passed two guards, disguised as bouncers, and both eyed him in distrust. He uttered the password and entered when they opened the door for him, not minding their gazes. A long hallway stretched, furnished elegantly and lit adequately. It definitely gave Slade the feeling of a nice hotel or casino resort. The mahogany door at the end of the hallway was his stop. He approached, knocked once on the dark wood, and entered.

Inside, he found the blonde girl, Stephanie, lounging on a loveseat, her head resting on Damian Wayne’s lap. He was mildly surprised to find him only scowling and not completely overreacting, making a large fuss about someone other than Dick touching him. She laughed at something he said, his scowl deepening and Damian huffed, crossing his arms and settling back into the loveseat with his shoulders slightly slumped.

Adjacent from them, at a large table with plush chairs, sat the red headed girl, Barbara Gordon and next to her sat, shockingly, Jim Gordon, her father and the Commissioner of Gotham PD. He sat with a smile on his face, and chuckled when Dick, who sat across from them, made an offending face at something. Barbara rolled her eyes.

Finally, on a large armchair by a dim fire, sat Bruce Wayne, devil ruler of Gotham’s underground world and the angel of Gotham’s high society. No heads turned but he knew that they all knew that he was there. Slade approached Dick, aware that Damian turned his head to keep an eye on him. He reached into his pocket and threw the envelope his sweetheart had given him earlier. Dick looked down at the crumpled piece of mail before looking up at Slade.

“What’s this, Slade?” He shrugged, nonchalantly sticking his pinky in his ear.

“Something from sweetheart. Told me to give it to you today.” At the mention of ‘sweetheart,’ Dick’s head snapped up and he lunged for the letter, a smug grin eating at his lips. Inside, Dick found two other envelopes, one a light blue in color and the other a light yellow. The yellow one was addressed to Slade and the blue one to Dick.

The dark haired male handed Slade his and viciously opened his own. He emptied the contents of it and found two slips of paper inside. He held each in one hand and inspected them. On one hand, he found the check that he had written Peter, slightly crumpled. On the other was a note that Peter had written him.

‘Fuck you. I don’t need your charity. -P.P.’

Slade, peeking at the note over his shoulder, laughed, loud and booming. Dick scowled and threw the two slips of paper onto the table.

“Shut up,” he muttered. The mercenary, however, continued to laugh, contentious of the fact that everyone was staring at him. Dick’s scowl further deepened before softening to curiousness at the unopened yellow envelope in Slade’s hands. “What’s in yours?” Slade laughed for a couple seconds more before he calmed down a bit and looked down at the yellow piece in his hands, his chest still shaking with a few more chuckles.

Slade fingered it open, his thick fingers dipping inside to pull out a multitude of bills, totalling to over $800. He stared at them, confused for a second before realizing what it was. Slade chuckled some more.

“What is it, Wilson?” Damian’s harsh voice came from the loveseat where both him and Stephanie had sat up in alertness.

“Looks like my sweetheart doesn’t accept charity very well.” Jim and Damian cocked an eyebrow at this while Bruce looked on calmly. Barbara grabbed the two slips of paper on the table while Stephanie got up from her position, making her way over to the table. Barbara too laughed a bit after reading the contents of the note. Dick slumped into his chair further. Stephanie’s reaction was similar to Slade and Barbara’s, cheering at Peter’s boldness.

“That’s my boy!”

“Who would be your boy, Steph?” Bruce timber cut through the laughs, everyone instantly standing at attention at the head’s voice. A small smirk played at his lips at the effect he had on everyone, and he waited for an answer. One always came.

“Just someone we all met. Dick here tried to woo him, but he, uh-” a snicker came out of Stephanie’s mouth, “rebuffed him.” Damian wandered over as well, scowling at the note.

“How vulgar,” he remarked and for the first time, Slade really looked at the youngest Wayne. Dick wasn’t wrong when he had said the boy had grown. He was now a man, nearly as tall as him, and broad too. He was tan and just as brooding as his father. Jade green eyes cut through the soul of everyone it passed over and a handsome face ruined (or accentuated; either way you want to look at it) by the severe scowl he always seemed to be wearing.

“Also!” Stephanie’s loud voice cut through Slade’s thoughts, her finger pointing to him in an accusatory manner. “Since when was he YOUR sweetheart?” Slade smirked.

“Since I met him first.” The caused an outburst from both Stephanie and Dick, only for them to realize that they would have to fight each other and Deathstroke the Terminator for Peter.

“Screw off Dickface! I saw him before you!”

“Steph!” Dick whined.

“And you! He’s my friend! You can’t-” a cough from Barbara interrupted her, and Stephanie continued, “He’s our friend! You can’t have him!” The mercenary grinned, his one eye scrunching up in smugness.

“Oh blondie,” he drawled, “I already have him.” Slade laughed when she lunged forward, barely restrained by her family. While it tested his luck, it was always so fun to rile up the Bats, the aliases they were known as in the underworld.

In the corner, Bruce observed the chaos with a raised eyebrow.

Just who was this man and how did he get some of the most powerful people in Gotham City wrapped around his finger? Bruce’s blue eyes narrowed, his handsome face screwing up slightly. He relaxed himself, leaning back into the plush armchair and thought.

‘How interesting.’

-----

Peter knocked on Harley’s door, hopeful to find a couple of leftovers in her fridge. She never really minded when he came over to eat. Actually, she seemed to enjoy it when he barged in. Usually, she would bounce up to the door, already knowing who it was through the security cameras she hacked (while Peter didn’t condone this, he also knew she was a woman living alone, so precautions had to be taken) and usher him in excitedly.

This time, however, was different. Harley still hadn’t opened the door. Peter frowned. Something was wrong.

“Harley?” He said through the door. “It’s me! Peter! Can you let me in?” Some shuffling came from the other side of the door and Harley’s voice rang out.

“Hey Puppy!” It was a sad excuse of an excited tone. “Look, I’m really sick right now,” she coughed, quite fakely to his ears, “and I don’t want to get you sick. Maybe another time?” Her voice did sound quite hoarse though. Peter shook his head, knowing fully well that she could see him. Through the door, Peter could hear her heartbeat speed up.

His frown deepened and he thought back carefully. She sounds hoarse and bad, she wouldn’t let him, her self-proclaimed light of her life in, and, most importantly, she was doing a job today. It clicked in Peter’s brain. His fists pounded on the door, harder than before.

“Harley!” His voice was urgent and demanding. “Harley! Let me in right now!” A sniffle came from the other side of the door.

“I can’t do that Pup! I don’t want to see you right now!”

“Harley! Let me in or I will break down the door!” He knocked incessantly. “Please! Harley! I’m worried about you!” It seemed that he wore her down (not that it took much) and she opened the door. What Peter saw broke his heart completely.

Harley stood in the doorway, pajamas on and showing all the bruises she had accumulated in one day. Large patches of blue, purple, red, and green bloomed all over her arms and legs, cuts with no bandages on them, and the shadow of a purple handprint left itself around her throat. Peter felt red hot rage start to bubble in his veins. He stomped inside the apartment, his hunger forgotten.

“Who did this, Harley?” He seethed as he looked her over. He wouldn’t dare touch her. He knew what kind of feeling someone would have after that kind of experience and it was not to be touched. She stayed silent and Peter knew the answer.

“That’s it,” he hissed, his hands clenched into fists so tight he knew that there would be indents from his fingernails. “You’re breaking up with him.” Harley shook her head rapidly, wincing when it aggravated some of her wounds. His rage boiled further.

“You know I can’t, Pete,” she rasped, making it clear it was obviously painful to talk. “He’s my Mista J. He’s all I have. You know that.” Peter shook his head and Harley looked at him with wide eyes.

“You’re so much more than him, Harls,” Peter’s eyes and demeanor softened as she looked away, “I wish you could see that. You have me too, you know? I’m always here for you.” There was a small pause.

“It’s been too long. This is all I know.”

“Wrong,” he said, “it was all you knew. I’m here and I’m telling you, because I care and I love you, that this is not healthy. I know you’re scared and you feel it’s been too long, but it’s not too late.” Harley sighed.

“I don’t know, Pete.”

“Yes you do, Harley. He’s using you and you’re letting him! This is abusive and it’ll kill you sooner than later.” Tears started spilling down Harley’s face, touching pale skin and likely stinging the small cuts on her face.

Suddenly, she rushed forwards and embraced Peter, who instantly embraced her back, minding her injuries. They stood like that for a while, Harley sobbing into Peter’s neck and him softly shushing her. Finally, after her hiccups died down, she whispered,

“He nearly killed me today.” Peter pulled back, his doe eyes looking into Harley’s blue ones. “There was a drug deal gone wrong and he wanted to kill a couple of the kids selling. They didn’t know any of the shit they were getting into. They were just kids!” Harley sobbed, her story momentarily paused. Peter was disgusted and mildly felt like he would throw up. “So I said no! And then he killed them right in front of me and then attacked me! My Mista J would never do that to me! He said he wouldn’t but he did! He did it, Pete!”

She cried harder and Peter, while his rage and need for justice burned hotter than before, he was a friend first and foremost. He shushed her and held her longer.

“I know it hurts. But you’re gonna break up with him, okay? You’re gonna put this behind you and you can move on. I’ll help you.” Harley said nothing for a few minutes. Then, she pulled herself out of his arms, rubbing at her swollen eyes and nodding.

“Okay,” she whispered, “can you stay with me tonight?” Peter melted at the request.

“Of course Harls. I’ll stay as long as you need. Just let me go get my stuff okay? I don’t want it to get stolen. Again.” Harley laughed. It was a small laugh but it was there. It was the most beautiful sound that he had heard all day.

-----

Peter entered the shelter and headed for his cot straight away. He had to get his stuff quickly and head back to Harley. She needed him more than ever. He stuffed all his belongings into his backpack, making sure nothing was missing. He didn’t want to have to come back to get something that would likely be stolen. Suddenly, his Spidey Sense rang out, alerting him of danger from behind.

Peter slowly straightened and turned around. He came face to face with a neck connected to a head which connected to a face he did not want to see at the moment.

“You!” He hissed out, irritated. Dick Grayson stood in his immaculateness, standing out in the whole room with his expensive suit and accessories and good looks. Dick smiled his megawatt smile, trying to make it less obvious that he was caging the cute boy in. Peter wasn't fooled for a second.

“Hey gorgeous,” he greeted with a flirtatious tone, “miss me?”

Previous: Part 2

Next: Part 4

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 2: 

Dick raised a suspicious eyebrow at the two women in front of him.

“So,” he started slowly, “you want to kill this man,” he pointed to the man chained to a pole, squirming with fear, “because he slapped someone? Like slapped in the face?” Barbara rolled her eyes.

“Yes, Boy Wonder. Do keep up.” Dick’s eye twitched imperceptibly. Despite her being one of the only people who could sass a Wayne and get away with it, that didn’t mean it didn’t piss him off sometimes.

“Okay, fine. Why don’t I ask a better question. Why is my bastard of an ex here?” Three pairs of eyes slid over to where Deathstroke, in full uniform, lounged on a lone wooden crate. The man’s white eyebrow raised, his eyes full of amusement.

“That hurts, little bird. Here I thought we would be able to let by gones be by gones.” Dick grit his teeth.

“Keep that up, Slade and I’ll send Damian after you,” the dark haired man snarled, a sneer twisting his handsome features, “he’d be happy to get rid of you after last time.” This only made Slade laugh.

“The baby Wayne can try all he wants. He won’t be able to do anything.”

“He’s not so much of a baby anymore. He’s almost as tall as you with much more on his body count than you’ve ever had.” Dick looked up at the larger male’s 6’5 form, knowing that Damian was only, at most, an inch shorter. Of the many traits he had taken after his father, Damian Al Ghul Wayne, Ibn al Xu’ffasch, at the age of 19, far surpassed Bruce in height, now towering over his father at his full height of 6 '4, and matched him in the bulk department. Slade scoffed at the man.

“That doesn’t matter. Nothing is going to take me away from this.” At this, Dick glanced at the man with renewed interest and back at Slade with suspicion.

“Why the hell are you so interested in this, Slade? Working with people isn’t exactly your style and Barbara tells me you’re even doing this pro bono,” a bloodthirsty grin overtook Dick’s face, “whoever this is must be real special.” A threat resided in Dick’s voice, something that stiffened the other three people in the room. Before Slade could speak, Barbara cut in.

“Dick,” she started, and while he didn’t turn towards her, she knew he was listening. “It’s not just him. It’s us too.” She gestured to Stephanie and herself, Stephanie nodding to convince Dick it was really what they all wanted. Because, it genuinely was what they had wanted. The fact that both his unofficial sisters wanted this too made him falter a bit. Dick stared at the blonde and the redhead before turning back to glare at the man chained to the pole. He visibly paled and scrambled backwards, despite his back resting against the cool metal. A slight smile at the man’s obvious fear slipped over Dick’s face before it disappeared and he sighed.

“Fine,” he said, and his eyes darkened. Everyone else in the room straightened.

While he would deny it fervently, Slade felt a small shiver make its way down his back as he eyed his ex in arousal. He particularly loved it when he used to do that. Dick grinned again, teeth showing; a pretty smile. Dangerous. “But only if I get to watch.”

-----

“I wonder what’s happened to Mr. Stanley.” Peter didn’t have to see Stephanie stiffen. He heard her. Pretending as if he didn’t, he continued, “I hope he’s okay.” Stephanie coughed into her sleeve and he looked over at her in concern. How much of it was an act and how much of it was genuine worry, he didn’t know. Peter handed the blonde a napkin, who took it with a nod of thanks.

“Why would you want to know if he’s okay? He slapped you just last week!” Peter shrugged, uncaring of the odd look his now friend was sending him. Barbara apparently had some business to take care of so Stephanie came in alone. Harley was busy as well, running after her boyfriend. Peter’s lips twitched into a frown at the thought of Harley being hurt. Again.

Stephanie, who noticed his slight frown, concluded the wrong thing.

“Pete, you’re too good for this world.” Peter averted his eyes away from her, a sad look crossing his face. He remembers all the people he couldn’t save in his own world. The people he killed because he wasn’t old enough, experienced enough, prepared enough, good enough. Of all the things he was, good was not one of them.

“I’m really not, Steph. I’m really not.” Ignoring the imploring look his blonde friend sent his way, he said nothing and looked away. There was nothing to say anyway.

Steph left not long after that, saying that she had somewhere she needed to be. It had been a week and he had still not seen Mr. Stanley since he had slapped him. There wasn’t any doubt in Peter’s brain that Slade, Steph and possibly Barbara had been responsible for his disappearance. They must’ve been meticulous too, since no news report of a missing man has shown up at all. A shiver of both fear and warmth crept up Peter’s back at length they went to. He oddly felt scared yet safe at the same time, even though he still had his powers.

‘And the suit,’ his mind supplied. Peter glanced down at his wrist where the watch Mr. Stark had gifted him lay, wrapped around his wrist. He had come up with the idea not long after his nanobot suit came to fruition.

While it looked like a regular touch screen watch, it held all the nanobots needed to pull together his suit inside, even becoming a set of web slingers itself once the suit was deployed. There were two buttons side by side on the side of the watch, one being to turn the watch on and off and the other to activate the suit. Mr. Stark had instructed him to pull the second button out, listen for the clicking sound and watch for the screen of the watch to pop upwards before pushing down on the screen, which would deploy the suit. Peter had not taken out the suit since his arrival into this world. It was nice to know he had it in case of emergencies, however.

Barely two hours later, Peter was exhausted and just wanting to get back to the shelter so he could sleep. After three fights (which was three fights too many to break up) and demanding customers, even in broad daylight, he only wanted to be alone. Well, as alone as he could get. He threw the towel over his shoulder down onto the wood of the bar and stretching his arms upwards, his back cracking deliciously as he moaned in relief.

‘Thank God, my back was killing me,’ he thought as he continued to stretch his stiff muscles. Quiet footsteps lumbered towards his side of the bar, their heaviness and sound familiar enough to Peter for him to not open his eyes and realize who it was. Another little crack came from his spine and Peter moaned quietly. A huff of laughter sounded in front of him.

“Careful, sweetheart. People might get the wrong idea.” Peter cracked one eye open at Slade, letting his arms fall back down to his sides and levelling the mercenary with a deadpan stare, silently noting the quick and quiet steps that were approaching the two.

“The wrong idea about what, Slade? Stretching?” Slade’s one eye roved over Peter’s small frame hungrily, and while Peter did feel a bit endangered, he also felt fond. After a few days of conversation with Deathstroke, his Spidey Sense had calmed down significantly and Peter knew that Slade would never do whatever Peter didn’t want him to do. Slade shrugged.

“You never know, sweetheart.” A voice spoke behind Slade, lilting and teasing.

“Aww Slade. You’ve replaced me already?” Both men looked at the intruder, a very handsome man with tanner skin than Peter’s (though that’s not saying much. Peter was pretty pale), striking blue eyes and a wide, pretty smile. Peter supposes he should be falling for him or at least be flustered, but he can’t bring himself to be with his Spidey Sense starting to sound like a banging drum at the arrival of this man.

The smile seems to melt the people around them, mostly women and even some men, but Peter’s seen it a hundred times before. It was similar to Mr. Stark’s fake smiles at press events. The first he had been to was his inauguration into the Avengers and while he was convinced at first, Peter started seeing the smile’s ingenuousness more and more as he attended other press conferences and parties. Looking at this man’s smile was like a mirror image, leaving Peter more than convinced of some sort of ulterior motive.

“Little bird,” Slade murmured, eyes suspiciously downcast. Peter watched as the man’s smile became sharp for a fraction of a second before it was gone. If Peter hadn’t seen it with his senses, he would’ve thought it to be a trick of the light or something. The man’s striking eyes swiveled over to Peter and the curly brown haired boy had to stop himself from tensing up at the intensity of the gaze. He couldn’t help but feel like he was now a sort of lab rat to this man. His gaze held interest but it was the same kind of interest that one would give an ant on the street.

“Hello,” he greeted politely, “can I get you started with something?” The sharpness was there again and gone again before Peter could even blink.

“Why, yes you can,” he purred, dark hair falling into his face attractively as he sat down next to Slade. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter noticed that Slade tensed the tiniest bit. The man spoke again, getting Peter to focus on him again, “you can start by telling me your name, gorgeous.” Peter was a bit flustered at the nickname, though he tried not to give any outward indication that he was affected.

‘Seriously, what is up with people and giving me nicknames!’ Peter pointed at the name tag pinned to his shirt and watched as the man raised an eyebrow. “I meant tell me, gorgeous. Verbally.” Peter stared at him.

“Sir, I don’t mean to insult your intelligence, but you can read right?” A quiet snort came from Slade but both Peter and the man ignored him.

“Of course I can read, but I want you to tell me your name.” Peter searched this man’s face, his intentions unclear. It was obvious he had ulterior motives but what were they? Finally, he answered.

“Peter. Peter Parker.” He grinned like the cat who got the cream. He held his hand out which Peter took hesitantly, letting the man’s much larger hand engulf his own, noticing that despite the strength he obviously carried, he kept his grip surprisingly gentle.

‘Manipulative,’ his mind whispered, ‘careful.’

“Richard Grayson. But you can call me Dick.” Peter’s eyebrows raised in surprise and a light giggle left his lips, shocking not only himself but Slade as well. It was interesting but he latched onto the name.

“Okay, Dick,” he put emphasis on the name, watching for any reaction that would accompany his subtle insult. There was none. “What can I get you?”

“Virgin mojito with ice. Thanks.” As Peter worked on making the drink for Dick, he kept a super sense ear towards their conversation.

“What are you doing here, little bird?” He heard Slade whisper.

“Seeing what all the fuss was about.” When he was done, Peter gave the glass to Dick who turned his attention towards the superhero-turned-bartender.

“So,” Dick started as Peter wiped down some wet glasses, “where do you live?” Peter glanced up and saw that Dick was leaning closer towards him, eyes sparking in interest.

“Why?”

“So I can take you on a date.” Peter barely stopped himself from scoffing.

“I just met you.” Dick nodded, his face portraying the question, ‘so?’ “So, I’m not going to tell you where I live.” The dark haired man shifted to one side, Peter’s eyes following him.

“You’re saying you don’t trust me?” The sharp grin was back, only this time it was on full display. ‘People obviously can’t tell the difference between pretty and danger,’ Peter thought as he watched more and more people start paying attention to the ridiculously attractive man sitting at the bar.

“Of course not,” he answered simply, his eyes straying to Slade for a quick moment. Dick’s eyes were analyzing and somehow, Peter felt like he knew more about Peter than Peter did himself. Even then, Peter refused to be daunted. ‘It’s not how Mr. Stark would be.’ Dick, noticing that Peter looked at Slade, suddenly looked like Christmas had come early.

“You know,” he purred, “Slade here isn’t exactly someone you should trust either.”

“How do you know I trust him?”

“You call him by his first name. Although common, he doesn’t enjoy just anyone calling him that.” Peter recalled the moment when Dick had slid into their conversation unannounced.

“If that’s the case, then you must be close to him too.” Surprisingly, Dick was startled for a quick second before he started rolling with the punches. It made Peter proud in a way. He gets the vibe that this man doesn’t get surprised easily.

“Maybe once upon a time. But still.” Peter sighed.

“Why shouldn't I trust him?” Dick leaned forward, his hand beckoning Peter to as well, which he did reluctantly. Slade tensed a bit more next to Dick.

“He’s a mercenary for hire.” It was whispered as if it was a great secret. Peter didn’t react. At all.

“Yeah, I know.” A moment passed as Slade’s shoulders slumped and Dick tilted his head in curiosity. “Besides, he’s never been anything but transparent about his job, even if he didn’t tell me. If there’s anyone I shouldn’t trust, Mr. Grayson,” Dick’s eyebrows raised to his hairline at the formality, “it would be you. You may be able to charm everyone else here but I’m not fooled. Your pretty smile and flowery words are fake enough for me to see through.” Dick was about to reply but a sharp rap on the door to the interior of the bar caught their attention.

“You’re off, Parker,” his manager rasped, clearly still hungover. He turned back to the two men sitting in front of him.

“Well, I’ll see you later Slade.” The older man nodded.

“See you, sweetheart.” Peter flashed a blinding smile towards him, making sure to leave Dick out of it. Said man was aware and huffed a laugh at Peter’s antics.

“What about me?” He pointed to himself. Peter shot him a deadpan look.

“I hope to never see you again.” With that, he walked off and out of the bar, hearing quiet chuckling but not quite noticing the interested looks from the man that would soon become one of the many thorns in his side. Fucking Parker Luck.

-----

Peter’s eye twitched as Dick sat down beside him, for once not alone. Babs followed behind him. It seemed that today it was Steph who was missing. It was barely even a week after their first meeting at the bar and he already couldn’t stand the sight of the other man. The fact that he kept appearing at all ofPeter’s shifts didn’t help. Dick smiled that pretty smile that Peter was sure tricked so many other people into selling their soul.

“Peter! What a coincidence!” A discreet glance at the red head behind Dick told Peter that this meeting was anything but a coincidence. The brown eyed boy didn’t answer, causing the darker haired man to pout. Instead, Peter met Barbara’s eyes and waved.

“How’re you, Babs?” Barbara’s soft smile lessened his irritation slightly. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’m good, Peter. Thanks for asking.” Peter nodded and went back to checking his phone, his break almost over. He’d be damned if he let Dick Grayson take up all his time. Ignoring the heat that dominated the side of his face, he sent a text to Harley.

To Harley: Are you going to be meeting me at the club today?

It wasn’t even a minute later that Harley texted back.

To Puppy: I can’t today, puppy. Mr. J has a job and wants me to help! Wish me luck! <3

Peter sighed, causing Dick to not-so-subtly turn to him in curiosity.

To Harley: Okay. Good luck. Stay safe.

Peter logged out of the app and checked his bank account, deflating at the meager number. ‘Only $329.53. How am I ever going to get out of the shelter?’ He needed so much food on a daily basis that he barely had much money left over. Momentarily distracted, Peter left his phone screen open for anyone to see, even the annoying man sitting next to him. Dick whistled.

“That’s a low number.” Peter shot him an irritated glance.

“Don’t you have anything else to do, other than stalking me?” Dick pretended to think about it for a moment, before shaking his head, his blue eyes filled with mirth.

“Nope. Looks like you’re stuck with me for the rest of the night.” The brown haired boy clenched his hand, balling it into a fist. His eye twitched again. Taking a visible breath, Peter walked behind the bar, avoiding looking at the handsome man.

‘Just another hour, Parker,’ he thinks, though his rising annoyance made him want to flee, ‘just another hour, and you’ll be fine.’

-----

After an hour of Dick blatantly staring at him (and no one, not even the security guards, questioned it. He thought it was odd), Peter was finally free to go. Babs had left within the first fifteen minutes, saying she had some late night errands to run. He practically flew into the back room to change into the clothes he wore before getting into uniform, and made it outside the club in record time, avoiding Dick when he surged up from his seat as Peter briskly walked past.

The cool air hit him, causing him to shiver and clutched his hoodie. He scolded himself for not believing the forecast this morning. Gritting his teeth, he started walking in the direction of the shelter, purposefully starting on a light jog as he heard heavier set footsteps behind him.

“Hey! Peter!” Dick called, following closely behind. Too close in Peter’s personal opinion, but before he could speed up, a strong hand grabbed his upper arm, and insane strength (at least, by normal human standards, but Peter was far from normal) halted his path. Because he had been running, physics decided to be a bitch (like it always was), and he crashed into Dick’s chest, the side of his head bouncing off the other man’s sternum.

Using it to his advantage, Peter rammed his shoulder back into his chest, managing to hit Dick’s solar plexus. It should’ve been enough to get the taller man to let go, but instead, his grip tightened on Peter’s upper arm and before Peter knew it, he was being hoisted up, an arm cinching around his waist as he was bodily carried into a nearby alleyway.

Now, Peter knew he was short and incredibly skinny, even after his transformation, but to hear it from someone else was a bit embarrassing in his books. Especially someone who had at least five inches on him, if not more.

“Jesus, do you eat? You’re tiny.” Dick hissed as Peter’s free arm came down on his shoulder blades and arms, anywhere he could reach. Funnily enough, Peter was barely putting any of his real strength into the hits, but he knew it was enough to bruise Dick for the next couple weeks. “Hey- ow! Peter!” He yelled but Peter continued to hit him. “Peter! Stop!”

“Let me go, Dick!” It seemed that Dick had had enough because next thing he knew, he was being pushed against a brick wall, the expanse of his chest pushed uncomfortably against the bricks by one if Dick’s long forearms and his upper arm had been let go in favor of capturing both of his wrists in one hand. Peter was about to stomp his foot onto Dick’s, probably breaking it, but Dick’s shout stopped him before he could.

“Peter! Wait! I just wanted to take you home!” That caused Peter to pause, looking up at Dick. None of his senses told him that Dick was lying, so instead of attacking him, Peter asked through clenched teeth.

“Why?” Peter glared up at Dick, and while he knew that his expression was about as threatening as a kitten and that he probably faced worse faces than Peter’s, he still watched in satisfaction as the taller actually seemed nervous now. His heartbeat also conveyed his anxiety.

“Gotham’s dangerous at night. And I think I’ve known you long enough to be at least a little worried,” Dick’s demeanor suddenly shifted, a smirk lighting up his face, “Besides, I don’t want my new favorite friend to get killed. Then who will glare at me with such a cute face?”

Now that Peter was closer to him, he could see why people seemed to fall for him wherever he went. Dick was very handsome, with a cheerful, if not cocky attitude. But Peter refused to be one of those people.

“I don’t need an escort. I can take care of myself.”

“You look like a breeze could knock you over.” Peter bristled.

“Are you saying that I need your help? ‘Cause I really don’t.”

“You couldn’t get me to let you go. Do you think that anyone else on the street, who are mostly larger than you and me, wouldn’t be able to take you down?” Peter scoffed, and using some more of his super strength, he shoved Dick back, the other man stumbling all the way to the other side of the alleyway. Dick braced himself on the wall, looking at Peter with wide eyes.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, Dick, but I can take care of myself. Whether or not you see it.” With that, he walked out of the alleyway and back towards the shelter. He heard no footsteps following him this time.

-----

Dick massaged his chest, still leaning against the wall that Peter had shoved him against. It was almost out of nowhere that his strength came and managed to successfully get Dick to let him go. He didn’t run after Peter, but he was resolved to escort Peter home safely. Afterall, if Steph and Babs liked him so much, Dick would probably like him too.

‘Yeah, he did not disappoint.’

His first time meeting Peter was rather weird for Dick. His first impression was ‘cute.’ The guy had one of the largest sets of honey brown eyes he’d ever seen. His hair was curly and fluffy, and Dick was tempted to card a hand through the light brown locks to prove their softness. He was small, too, with a short stature and skinny arms. Basically, he looked defenseless and naive, if not adorably so.

However, nearly everyone he met that wasn’t an assassin, mafioso, terrorist, whathaveyou, had fallen for his charms. Sometimes, even the assassin, mafioso, terrorist (etc.) had fallen for him. But Peter was different. The instant Peter spotted him next to Slade, his guard was put up quickly and he wasn’t fooled by charming smiles and pretty words. If that wasn’t enough to prove his oddity, the fact that he had said it straight to Dick’s face, even when Slade was right next to him, just made him more interesting to Dick.

So sue him if he was slightly concerned about someone so defenseless looking roaming around at night. He was a son of the Wayne Mafioso branch, largest crime family on the East Coast, and Gotham and her inhabitants were his to help, protect, and punish if he so pleased.

Pushing off the wall, Dick decided that this particular inhabitant was also his to help and protect, even if it was against his will.

Dick suddenly realized that Peter must’ve been new to Gotham, seeing as he didn’t recognize him as Bruce Wayne’s first, adopted son, which only served to make Dick want to protect him from the streets even more.

“Okay, it’s only been a couple minutes since he left. He can’t be that fast,” Dick muttered as he started on the path that Peter took to go home. A couple blocks up, Dick could see the heel of Peter’s shoe as he turned the street. Following quickly, he ran the couple blocks and turned the corner, as well, seeing Peter crossing a crosswalk to the other side of the street. He followed as well and all the way to a place that looked unfamiliar to him. It wasn’t an apartment building. Peter entered through the doors.

‘A homeless shelter?’

-----

A couple days passed since the little scuffle with Dick and Peter was thankful that the man had at least some common sense to know when he wasn’t welcome. Peter hasn’t seen him at all the past few days and he couldn’t be happier. Harley noticed.

“Whatcha so happy about, Pup?” She asked when they were hanging out at her apartment. Peter smiled beamingly at Harley who covered her eyes like she was looking into the sun. Both of them giggled.

“Just happy. Hey, Harley?”

“Hmm?” Harley played with the stick of the lollipop in her mouth, absently listening.

“Do you know Slade personally?” The platinum blonde shook her head.

“Nope. Why? You finally admitting yer’ feelin’s for him?” Peter huffed, giving his friend a knowing look.

“No, I’m not into him. Like I said, too old. Not exactly my type.” Harley hummed but looked skeptical. “Anyway, even if you don’t know him personally, do you know who he works with?” His friend thought about it for a minute, swinging her legs back and forth in her seat at her kitchen table.

“Some. Why?”

“Just wondering if you knew someone named Dick Grayson?” Harley froze, a terrified look dawning on her face. Peter frowned and was about to ask her if she was alright but Harley suddenly surged forward and grabbed Peter by the arms, her grip tight.

“Where did you hear that name?!” Peter, now more concerned, drew his eyebrows tight.

“I met him the other day, when you weren’t at the bar. He came in alone and talked with Slade. He came in another day too, with Babs.” Harley’s eyes searched his own wildly, as if trying to see whether or not he was telling the truth.

Her blue eyes widened when she saw that he was completely serious. Slowly, she let go of Peter’s arms and sat back down in her seat. She put her head into her hands, leaning over the counter for a minute, so silent that Peter started to become even more worried. Silence was uncharacteristic of Harley Quinn.

“Okay,” she spoke up after a couple minutes, “I want you to promise me something, okay, Peter?” Honey brown eyes widened a bit. She used his real name. This was serious.

“Anything, Harls.”

“I want you to stay away from Dick Grayson and anyone he associates with.” Peter blinked.

“What about Slade?”

“Yup.”

“And Babs? And Steph?” If Barbara Gordon knew Dick Grayson, then it was likely that Stephanie Brown knew him too.

“Them too. We’re going to move. Mista J won’t mind. We’ll move closer to the border, nearer Canada and-” she continued muttering, more to herself than Peter, but Peter had enough.

“Harley, we can’t move. I can’t move. I have two jobs and other commitments. I can’t just drop everything and move.” Harley gave him a desperate look.

“But-” He cut her off.

“But nothing, Harls. I know you’re worried. I knew he was dangerous the minute I met him. I can take care of myself. I’m much stronger than you think I am.” His friend didn’t move for a few moments, staring into his completely serious face and then deflated.

“I just worry,” she murmured, apology evident in her tone. Peter walked around the kitchen counter to hug his friend, who embraced him just as tightly.

“I know you do.” The hug lasted for a few more minutes, both basking in the comfort of the other before it was time for Peter to leave. He grabbed his coat off one of the small chairs at a round dinner table and said his goodbyes.

“Be safe!” Harley called after him as he left her apartment. He waved back with assurances he would be careful. He chose to walk, despite the cold and damp weather, seeing as his bank account couldn’t suffer anymore in terms of small spendings. ‘Besides,’ he reasoned with himself, ‘I need some more exercise.’

It was about 30 minutes later that he finally reached the shelter, his coat somewhat damp. Entering the door, and feeling some warmth descend upon him made him want to groan in relief. However, after that feeling had passed, another, colder feeling lay itself upon him like a blanket. Something was wrong. Peter looked around, trying to see any potential dangers but there were none he could see or hear.

Walking swiftly, Peter reached his cot, still eyeing his environment in suspicion. When he still found nothing out of the ordinary, he finally looked down on his cot to see a single white rose and an envelope sitting across his now neatly made cot. Someone had been there and messed with it. The thought made him shiver and with shaking hands he picked up the rose in one hand and the envelope in the other. He peeled the flap and opened it to see the contents. Two small, folded slips of paper sat inside.

‘Sort of anticlimactic,’ Peter thought, his face filled with confusion. He pulled out the larger of the two slips of paper, and unfolded it. And then proceeded to drop everything in his hands. The rose, the envelope and the check for $100,000 fell quietly onto his cot. His wide eyes stared down at the pale piece of paper.

‘What the fuck,’ he thought with shock. Then he remembered that there was another piece of paper in the envelope. Taking the envelope in hand, he tucked the check inside and pulled out the other slip. Unfolding it, he saw that it was a note.

‘The first of many. -D.G.’

The envelope once again fell from his hands, and Peter felt another wave of emotion crash over him. However, this time, it wasn’t shock or fear. No, it was rage.

‘Motherfucker.’

Previous: Part 1 

Next: Part 3 

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 1: 

The sounds of hard bone hitting flesh made Peter wince as he furiously scrubbed at the now non-existent stains on the hard, polished wood of the bar. His eyes were down cast as he tried to ignore the massacre in front of him with every fiber of his being. Despite it being early in the afternoon, his shift had already started off quite eventfully, with a barroom brawl. Even now, he found it hard on himself not to intervene. However, he knew he couldn’t draw attention to himself. In this type of environment, attention was either bad or worse with no better or inbetween. It was something he couldn’t afford.

A thump in front of him drew him out of his musings, his Spidey Sense starting to tingle quite annoyingly. Whoever was in front of him was dangerous. A deep voice started to speak.

“Old fashioned,” came the demand. Peter nodded silently, willing his face to be impassive as he concentrated on making the drink for the man. When he was done, he slid the drink over to the bar counter.

“Here you go sir,” he uttered politely, glancing up and taking note of the patron. He was an older man who wore a black, fitted T-shirt that displayed his assets clearly, biceps bulging as he leaned leisurely against the counter. White hair covered his head, cut recently as the smell of fresh shampoo came off of him to reach Peter’s sensitive nose. He could also clearly see little hairs clinging to the black of his shirt. The man had an eye patch over his right eye and was huge as well.

When he finished his drink, he slid it back over to him, and stood up at his full height, towering well over Peter and the rest of the patrons in the bar. The man’s one eye glanced at him, appraising him and Peter couldn’t help but blush a bit. He looked away, but not before noticing the slight twitch of the man’s mouth as he did.

‘Fuck,’ he thought and to avoid more embarrassment, Peter glanced around the large man to look at where the brawl had gotten to now.

“You new here?” Peter’s large eyes came back up to meet the other man’s and he nodded shyly.

“Yeah, a little over a month.” Eye-Patch (as Peter has now affectionately nicknamed him) hummed and stared at Peter for a little while longer, who fidgeted uncomfortably. Even though there was plenty of noise within the mostly empty club, the silence between both men was getting to Peter, which prompted him to ask a question. “Do you come here often?” The man grinned.

“Not before.” That made Peter blink. He tilted his head in confusion. He was obviously missing something here.

“Huh?” Eye-Patch laughed, gaining the attention of several people around them.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Peter bristled a bit at the nickname, “just that you should probably expect me more.” Reaching into his pocket, Eye-Patch pulled out several hundred dollar bills and threw them towards Peter, whose eyes widened at the sight. “Just for you. Keep the change.” And he walked out the door without another word. Peter gaped at the door for a long while before looking at the neat bills on the counter.

“Weirdos,” he grumbled underneath his breath but not before pocketing the money. Another low thrum sang at the back of his head and he felt a presence sidle up beside him. He knew who it was without even looking.

“Hey Petey Boy!” Peter grabbed the glass that Eye-Patch just drank out of and began washing it.

“Hey Harley. What’s up?” The woman squealed happily, popping the gum in her mouth obnoxiously. Peter found that he quite liked Harleen Quinzel, after he worked past his first impression of her.

“Nothin’ much,” she drawled out teasingly, her blonde pigtails bouncing around her, “just wonderin’ when ya’ became such good friends with Deathstroke over there.” Peter grabbed a rag hanging on the bottom countertop and started to wipe down the glass in his hands.

“Who?” Harley giggled loudly, toying with the hem of Peter’s T-shirt as she grabbed onto one of his arms. He glanced down at her with a soft, curious look and she rolled her eyes playfully.

“Y’know, hunky Eye-Patch guy? Guy who just left?”

“Ah,” Peter realized before questioning, “his name is Deathstroke?” Harley rolled her eyes again.

“No, silly! His real name is Slade Wilson. He’s a mercenary for hire.”

‘Guess that answers that question.’ Harley blew a bubble and popped it again, winking suggestively at him, “and he was so interested in you!” Peter snorted.

“Nah. I’m new here so he was just asking. Besides, he’s a bit too old for me.” The look on Harley’s face was dubious.

“Uh-huh. Sure, honey. I’m just saying, he’s pretty hot. Also,” he felt a squeeze on his bicep, “have you been working out? You’re ripped!” Her smile became mischievous. “Trying to impress someone? Ooh! Ooh! Is it me?” Peter gave a small laugh, his curly hair bouncing as he shook his head.

“I’m always trying to impress you, Harls.” The blonde giggled and leaned over to kiss his cheek before swiping her thumb across it, wiping away the lipstick.

“Aww, you sweetie. If I didn’t have my puddin’, I would be with you in a heartbeat.” Peter forced a smile as Harley made heart eyes at the mention of her on-again-off-again boyfriend. Right now, it was decidedly on. If you asked Peter, he would say he knew the signs of an abusive relationship when he saw them. “Anyway. I just came ta tell ya’ that your shift for this afternoon ends right now and I’ll see you in a few hours!”

“Okay, thanks.” She kissed his cheek once more, not bothering to wipe away the residual lipstick before flouncing out of the bar. Peter wished she could see that she could do so much better than a man nicknamed ‘The Joker.’ Somewhere among the brawl that still had not stopped, the sound of glass shattering grabbed his attention. Peter sighed.

‘I better clean that up before I leave.’

-----

Peter walked the few blocks that it took to get to the homeless shelter where he stayed. He opened the door that housed the tens of people that wandered the streets, and closed it softly behind him. Setting towards his cot, he noticed that people were bustling around like crazy, and a nice smell was coming from the kitchen. His stomach grumbled but he willed it to stop. He needed the money to get a new place and he was a few hundred away from achieving his goal for the upfront portion. He was lucky that Harley decided to help him out and aid him in forming a bank account here. Peter reached his cot and sat down, noting that, luckily, no one had tried to steal his stuff. Again. Settling back against the pillows, Peter thought about the past couple of months.

He had first come to this world so unfamiliar to him through some sort of magical portal. God, he fucking hated magic sometimes. Mr. Stark had let him go into his lab unsupervised for the first time since the incident involving the toaster, pink glitter, and the flamethrower.

It was nice.

He was sitting at one of the tables, tinkering around with one of his web shooters, Led Zeppelin (“For the sake of America’s Ass™, Peter, it’s ACDC!”) booming in his ears when suddenly, he felt himself being pulled back, a cold feeling settling across the back of his neck and making its way to the rest of his body. Then, a weird expression came over his face as another feeling came over him, like he was being stretched thin, but it didn’t hurt. There’s a quick flash of a blinding light, causing him to shut his eyes (his overly reactive senses are a blessing and a curse) tightly and the next thing he knows, Peter hits the ground hard, his body making a soft thudding noise.

The first thing to register is the sight. It wasn’t overly bright, like the light was. In fact, it was rather dark. Brick walls surrounded him from two sides, indicating that he was in an alleyway of some sort. It wasn’t too spacious and various bags of trash were littered all over the place. Doors were lined along the brick walls, all closed and looking uninviting. Then came the smell. It was horribly pungent, probably even to the regular nose.

To Peter’s nose, however, it was hell. He could practically feel his olfactory glands swelling from the amount of stink he was admitting into his body. Gagging, he tried to stand up to get away from the smell only to stumble and nearly eat the gravel under him.

‘Parker Luck fucking sucks,’ he thinks as he collapses against one of the doors on the brick walls, then thinks groggily, ‘hey, that rhymed.’

He rested his head against the cool metal for a moment before his Spidey Sense, sensitive and overly reactive at the moment, blares a warning, making him shoot backwards. He lays on the ground for less than a second when the door he had previously rested on opened with a bang. His head pounded more than it ever did before, and the added sound of the metal banging against the brick and a high pitched voice screeching didn't help either. Peter squinted at the rather tall female figure standing in the doorway screaming obscenities into the lit room.

She screamed her last words, no response following her, and stepped outside with a huff, slamming the door behind her. Peter closed his eyes again, and laid his head against the concrete sullenly, fully expecting her to leave him. If he was a woman in a city at night, he would do that too.

“Oof, yer’ lookin’ kinda rough there buddy.” Peter’s eyes popped open in surprise. The woman was standing over him, a look of sympathy and concern displayed on her pale face. She crouched down and the closer she got, the more clearly he could see her features. She was pretty, with alabaster skin and platinum blonde hair pulled into pigtails, the ends dyed red and blue. Her bright blue eyes blinked curiously at him as he laid unmoving for a second.

“I fe’l rough’,” he croaked, his hands rubbing at his throat in an effort to ease the pain he felt as he spoke. The woman clicked her tongue and reached for his wrists, bringing them away from his neck.

“Alright, sweetie, I need you to answer every question as best as you can okay? I’m a doctor, I can help you.” Peter groaned and pointed to her, his arm bending at the elbow to raise his finger in the air.

“Wha’s yur’ name?” He managed to slur out. ‘Stranger danger Parker,’ he reminded himself in lieu of Mr. Stark. If he were here, he would be shaking his head in disappointment, Peter was sure of it.

“Ah, how rude of me! Ma names Dr. Harleen, but ya’ can call me Harley!” The hand pointing at her turned into a wave, greeting her.

“Hey,” he replied weakly, “my name’s Peter. Peter Parker.” He could hear the grin in Harley’s voice.

“Well, Peter Parker, tell me. Are ya feeling nauseous or dizzy?”

“Yes.”

“Any ringing in the ears?”

“No.”

“A headache? Are ya feeling really tired?”

“Not that bad of a headache. Tired, yes,” he sighed, fatigue heavy in his voice, “look, Doctor, I don’t have a concussion. Just feeling weird right now.”

“Ya drink before you came here or eat something weird?”

“No, I’m just weird like this.” Harley was silent for a moment.

“Do ya want me to help get you home?” Peter sighed again, pushing his arms up to help himself lift his torso so he was sitting upright.

“I, uh, don’t have a home,” he looked around the alley, his senses starting to clear (though his nose still throbbed at the smell), “where am I, by the way?” Harley leaned into his vision, a slightly incredulous look on her face.

“You don’t know where you are?” Peter shook his head, happy his headache was now subsiding. The disbelieving expression didn’t disappear from Harley’s face. “Well, you, puppy, are in Gotham, the most crime ridden city in the world.” Peter sent Harley a weird glance.

“Gotham? Like Gotham City, Batman’s Gotham City?” The second the sentence went out of his mouth, Harley covered his lips with her hand.

“Never say that name unless you’re looking for a death wish!” She hissed at him, her eyes hard. “Promise me!” Wide eyed, Peter nodded reluctantly and he was let go. It wasn’t like he read the comics or anything. He didn’t really know much about Batman. Just that he had a sidekick named Robin and they fought the Joker on a regular basis. Harley straightened, causing him to look up at her. She extended her hand which he took and he slowly stood up with her help. She dusted him off, her hands sweeping across the back of his jacket and the front of his shirt for him. He nodded in thanks.

“Do ya have your phone on ya?” He reached into his back pocket and felt that, yes, thankfully, his phone was still in his pocket. He tugged it out and unlocked it, tapping on the call icon. He goes straight to Tony’s number. A ring doesn’t even make it onto his phone before the screen says that there’s no service for his phone. He sighs forlornly. There goes trying to contact home.

“Sorry Harley, I don’t have service here.”

“So ya don’t have service, no way to contact home, and ya have no idea where ya are?” Peter shook his head. It was Harley’s turn to sigh. “Alright, puppy, yer' comin’ with me. I know a nicer homeless shelter than any of the ones they got on Grand.” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the alleyway onto the nearly empty street. He should’ve probably been concerned that he was heading somewhere with a random woman, granted one who had tried to help him. There was still a low thrum of danger at the back of his head, but all he could focus on was that ridiculous nickname.

“Puppy?” The blonde haired woman paused, turning back with a teasing smirk on her pretty face.

“‘Cause yer’ so cute like a puppy, with those puppy dog eyes and pouty frown. Yer’ even smaller than me!” At that point, he had taken note that she was, in fact, a full four inches taller than him. He looked at her with somewhat genuine offense.

“Hey! I’m 5’6! You’re only so much taller because you’re wearing heels!” He pointed towards the pumps that adorned her feet. Harley scoffed and took off her heel for a second, showing both of them that, even without the heels, she was still an inch taller than him. He groaned. This night was just getting worse and worse. First, he’s in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar woman who was taller than him. Hearing Harley’s laugh though, as they walked through the streets arguing about who was really taller, made him feel at least a little better. It wasn’t much, but every little bit counts.

All that eventually led to where Peter was now, laying on a cot in the same homeless shelter that Harley had introduced him to. He had gotten a couple of jobs with the help of Harley’s shadier connections. He had realized early on that this dimension was not the same world that the comics had shown. This was somehow different. There was no one with super powers, though the monikers were still real. Batman was real, but Harley (the only person he trusted up to this point) hadn’t told him anything, and by the fifth time that he asked, he realized he wouldn’t be getting anything out of her so he stopped. He had wondered who Batman was here, and if he and Robin were still partn-

The sound of an alarm pulled him out of his thoughts, and Peter hurriedly grabbed his phone and turned it off. He saw the time and sighed.

“Time to head to work,” he muttered.

-----

“Hey Puppy!” Harley squealed as he entered the club that was now flooding with people, the lighting dim save for a few spotlights that roved over the sea of people. Peter straightened his clothes, a white button down paired with some slacks. They had been the Joker’s but, according to Harley, they didn’t fit him anymore. Peter shivered at the thought of taking something of the Joker’s, but he guessed it couldn’t be helped.

“Harley!” He yelled back in greeting and both walked over the bar. Peter quickly clocked in and set off to work, one of his coworkers behind the counter already. From there, it was quite the busy time, people requesting drinks all over the place. Peter and Harley talked from time to time as he prepared other’s drinks. It was a fairly smooth evening so far.

Of course, as soon as he thought that, trouble had to come, brewing in all its toxicity. When he had first started as a bartender for the club, he had been warned to keep an eye out for suspicious activity, just so the club doesn’t get hit with another lawsuit. Harley was fiddling with her phone in one corner of the bar, and at this point, Peter was used to the loud noise of the club, having inconspicuously stuffed his ears with ear plugs earlier. However, it didn’t completely cancel out the noise as his super hearing still noted everything within his vicinity. In the opposite corner of the bar, away from him and Harley, Peter somehow heard the soft sounds of paper being ripped, a drop of something hitting the water, and a soft fizzing noise.

His head imperceptibly turned to watch as a rather handsome man handed a tall glass of something to a beautiful blonde accompanied by a taller, equally beautiful redhead. ‘Taller than me too,’ he thought bitterly. The blonde accepted the drink as it was slid over to her and was about to lift it when Peter quickly rushed over. He leaned over the counter and subtly pressed a finger down onto the base of the glass, which was widened, using his strength to keep the glass down. He made subtle eye contact with one of the bouncers next to the door, and the man got the message pretty quickly. He started toward the bar while Peter distracted the patrons.

“Sir!” His voice still sounded somewhat soft and high pitched over the bass of the music. “I think there’s someone outside looking for you! You match the description I think!” At the odd look given to him, he continued trying to convince him, “what’s your name?!” The man’s glassy eyes roamed over Peter’s face before answering,

“Trevor!” Peter squinted, trying to sell his lie.

“Last name?!”

“McConnelly!” Peter nodded and waved over the bouncer, who lumbered over.

“Is this the Trevor McConnelly the person outside is looking for?!” A quick once over of Trevor told Peter all he needed to know about him. “Wasn’t it his girlfriend?!” Without question, the bouncer nodded. Trevor suddenly paled and rushed past the bouncer, a man named Gus, who followed him. Peter shot him a thankful look and then turned back to the two women, glancing about them awkwardly.

“Sorry, but I wouldn’t drink this if I were you. He slipped something into it.” The women, shockingly, didn’t look surprised. They only glanced at each other before turning to him with twin smiles, an unheard conversion passing between their eyes that Peter didn’t know how to interpret.

“Thanks for the assist. I really appreciate it,” the blonde purred over the music. Peter could’ve sworn the grin on her face turned sharp for a split second before it flitted away and an almost natural smile came over her face once more. Almost being the key word. A shiver crawled up Peter’s back and the thrum of Spidey Sense became nearly haywire as he stared at the expressions of the two women. They were a lot more dangerous than they appeared.

“I don’t mean to condescend, and I’m sure you’re both able to protect yourselves, but please be careful. No one deserves that to happen to them,” he said as earnestly as possible, using his large brown eyes to his advantage. That seemed to soften at least the red head as her smile started to turn a little bit more gentle. The blonde seemed a bit thrown by his honesty, but quickly recovered, and her smile too seemed a little tender.

“I appreciate it! Not a lot of people can make that statement sound nice!” He gave them a small, genuine smile before turning back to the bar and continuing with other orders. Harley was suddenly gone from her spot, and Peter furrowed his brows. ‘I hope she’s okay,’ he thinks as he starts on another drink for another patron. He quickly shoots a text in between requests and then shuts off his phone. At one point, he’s done with all his requested drinks and takes a bit of a break. He turns around again only to see the two women from earlier still at the bar, conversing quietly. They’re quite perceptive, he notes because the instant his attention turns to them, their attention turns to him and they’re locked in a staring contest. He shyly wanders over to their spots, nearly missing the slight amusement that flashed between both of their eyes.

“What’s your name?” The redhead asks as he nears them. Peter smiles innocently, trying to keep posture loose as his Spidey Sense reacts again. His hands pull at each other, something he can’t help, and something that both women definitely notice.

“I’m Peter. Peter Parker. And you?” He’s as polite as possible. Always be polite to a customer, he remembers his manager saying. The redhead speaks again.

“I’m Barbara Gordon, but my friends call me Babs. You can too.” Peter nodded, his curly down hair bouncing as he did so. The women’s eyes crinkled as they smiled, their expressions now a hundred times more genuine than before.

“Stephanie Brown, Steph. But you can call me ‘Mine,’” the blonde winked with a small and suggestive smile. Peter’s cheeks turned red at this, his pale skin flushing. Barbara and Stephanie could tell too, as they chuckled a bit at his face and Peter turned his head away in embarrassment. When he turns back a few moments later, they’re still laughing, and he pouts a bit. ‘I never know how to respond to those comments,’ he thought. As their laughter subsided, they started asking more questions. With the danger at a small vibration at the back of his mind, he felt like he was in an interrogation.

“Have you worked here long?” Stephanie asked, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck and cleavage. Peter made a huge point to himself to look straight into her eyes or over her shoulder under the guise of watching someone else.

“Not really,” he replied, “Just over a month. I work at The Captain’s Bar too.” Both women perked up in interest.

“Really? We frequent but we’ve never seen you.”

“Well, I work in the mornings and afternoons on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. You guys should come by sometime when I work! It’s quieter then if you guys want to talk!” They smile at him and he feels the vibration of danger slowly slip away until it’s nearly nothing. Peter guesses he won them over.

“Sure thing! We’re free next Wednesday so expect us then!” Peter nods, his fluffy hair bouncing again. Sudden, dual beeps enter his ear canal as he hears both women’s phones go off at the same time. They glance at the texts and curse and Peter suddenly realizes he shouldn’t hear those sounds and he’s staring so he turns away, trying to find interest in something else.

Stephanie talks again, “do you have a napkin and a pen?” He searches around the bar for a pen and he grabs a napkin from the neat stack in the corner. He gives them to her and she quickly writes down two sets of numbers. “These are our numbers! Keep in touch!” With that, they’re gone. Peter takes the napkin delicately into his hand, observing Stephanie’s writing style before pocketing it carefully. He resumes his job, but it’s not five minutes later that he remembers, the thought irking him. Damn pet peeves.

“Fuck,” he curses quietly, “she took the damn pen!”

-----

It was a week later that he encountered Barbara and Stephanie again. In the meanwhile, he was added into a chat between the two women, their conversations ranging from everyday, talking-about-the-weather to absolutely ridiculous. Peter knew not to draw attention to himself but he reasoned that two more friends couldn't hurt. He rather enjoyed having more people to talk to, not that Harley was an unsatisfying friend to be around. Speaking of, he had found that Harley had left because her “puddin’” needed her. When he had called her later that night, concerned, the excuse rushed out of her lips, leaving him less than convinced, but he let it go.

She arrived at the barroom the next day with her usual smile and a bouncing ponytail and everything was back to normal. Eye-Patch came in more often, Peter noticed, leaving more and more hundred dollar bills on the counter. Peter had tried to get him to stop, only to receive a smug smile and a goodbye of ‘sweetheart,’ before he was on his way. He found that Deathstroke, Slade Wilson Peter recalled as his name, was a man of little words, but that didn’t stop him from making small conversation with Peter when he could. Harley thought that he wanted to impress Peter. Peter disagreed completely.

“I think he might be making fun of me.” Harley rolled her eyes.

“Not true. I know guys like him. He’s trying to impress you, Puppy. Don’t doubt me.” Peter, knowing that arguing with her would be fruitless, just shrugged.

“Whatever you say, Harls.”

Wednesday came, and just like they said, Stephanie and Barbara entered The Captain’s Bar near the end of his shift with dazzling smiles on their faces as they shifted the backpacks on their shoulders. Peter greeted them happily.

“Hey Babs! Hey Steph!” They greeted him, waving jovially and walked towards the bar, sitting on seats right in front of him. “How are you guys doing?” Now closer, he had more of a view to observe the two women. They had slight bags under their eyes and their skin was paler than usual. “Are you guys okay? You look tired,” Peter asked with genuine concern. Stephanie leaned forward onto her elbows, which she settled on the counter. Her neck dropped a bit and he could suddenly see the back of her collar, a small, nearly inconspicuous red stain on there. It was freshly made, the texture under the lighting still looking wet. It looked like blood, he realized. With that conclusion, the thrum of danger returned and another shiver was forced down his back. The women noticed.

Stephanie raised her eyebrow, “The question is, are you okay?” Babs’ look was no less concerned. Peter nodded shakily.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. It’s just, you got a little bit of blood on the back of your shirt. Are you hurt? Do you need first aid?” The blonde’s eyes widened a bit before her small hand clutched the back of her collar, Peter still looking at her in worry. Barbara’s jaw clenched and she plastered a fake smile onto her face.

“Steph’s fine, she just had a bit of a rough night. We’re both okay, so you don’t have to worry Peter.” He nodded reluctantly, still worried but content to take them at their word.

“Then what can I get you guys?” They rattled off their drinks and he rushed to make them, vaguely aware of the door opening to let another customer in. It wasn’t until he slid the girls’ drinks over to them did he realize that Slade had walked in. The one eyed man grinned predatorily at him before sitting down at the nearest end of the bar. Peter muttered a “be right back” to Babs and Steph before wandering over to the mercenary.

“Hey Slade.”

“Sweetheart,” the older man rumbled his greeting.

“The usual?” A short nod from the man sent Peter on his way to making an old fashioned drink for him. As he gave the man his requested beverage, Slade pointed over to the two women who were conversing softly with themselves, his one eye narrowed.

“Those two your friends?” Peter glanced at Babs and Steph and looked back at Slade, confused.

“Yeah? I mean we met like a week ago, but I guess you could call us that. Why?” Another body slumped into the chair next to Slade, slurring an order. Slade took that as a distraction for Peter and stood up.

“Because you have interesting taste in people, sweetheart.” He sauntered towards the women, his shoulders drawn tighter than Peter’s ever seen them. He watches Slade interact with the two women, watches their reactions to each other. He notices that, oddly enough, Slade is the one in the submissive position, while Stephanie and Barbara are dominant, despite their dispositions. Slade was stiff, in a combative stance while the other two were completely open, smirking and tilting their heads up at the older man. A hand snapping in front of his face brought Peter out of his thoughts.

“Hey, twink!” The man who slumped next to Slade sneered up at Peter from his position over the counter, “I told you to get me a fuckin’ drink,” he slurred loudly enough to catch the attention of those nearby. Slade, Steph and Babs turn their attention towards them.

“I’m right on it, Mr. Stanley,” Peter said politely, his hands starting to sweat, “can you repeat your order again?” The man squinted up at him for a moment, straightened up in this seat, lifted his hand and slapped Peter straight across the face. Being Spider Man, he saw it coming straight away, but had the forethought to remember not to draw much attention to himself. He tried to make it seem like the hit actually affected him a bit. So he stumbled off to the side, falling down in the process and watched as Slade stormed over to the man and proceeded to punch the drunk, living daylights out of the man. Steph and Babs went to the side of the bar where the small door separating the bar and the rest of the room was and rushed over to Peter, helping to straighten him up.

“You good Petey?” Babs voice was soft as if afraid he would spook like a cornered animal. He nodded distractedly, focusing on Slade who was now shaking the drunk man. He was knocked out instantly by the punch. He pushed himself up, looking at the other two who stood up with him. Slade noticed movement in his peripheral vision, his gaze snapping over to Peter in an instant.

“You okay, sweetheart?” The look of Peter’s reddened cheek made Slade clench his teeth.

“I’m fine, Slade,” he replied before pointing at the man that was limp in the mercenary’s arms, “let him go.” Slade blinked and looked at the man, sneering and releasing him, letting him hit the floor with a loud thump.

“With pleasure,” he smirked as Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 'Typical Slade,' Peter thought. Only God knows how many fights that man gets into.

“Just,” Peter leaned over the counter and took note of the unconscious male, his eye well on its way to swelling to the size of a golf ball, “wait here while I go get my manager.” The brown haired boy sighed in suffering as he headed toward the back of the bar to get his manager who would no doubt fire him soon for this.

‘Fucking Parker Luck,’ he thought bitterly.

Unawares to Peter, Stephanie and Barbara joined Slade in watching over the knocked out patron, looking down at him as if he were scum underneath their shoes. Stephanie glanced at Slade, who, even though he wasn’t looking at her, knew that she required his attention. Fully aware that he was listening, Steph said,

“I assume that you won’t struggle to say yes to this mission?” He knew exactly what she was talking about.

“No problems here, blondie. I’ll even take this case pro bono if I get first shot at him.” Slade grinned at the blonde, a ruthless intent behind his expression. Steph, who mirrored this, then turned to Babs to gage her reaction.

“Count me in,” she murmured, her tone soft but firm. She was quite disgusted by the display that negatively affected their new favorite bartender, “but you do know Dick and Tim are gonna want to know why we’re doing this.” Slade stilled at the mention of his ex, and whether or not the two women noticed it, they didn’t comment. Instead, Steph hummed.

“That may be, but I think they’ll quite like Petey.” The blonde sent Babs a knowing smirk, which Babs rolled her eyes at. Secretly, however, she agreed with her friend.

‘Yeah,’ she thought as Peter came back out, his fluffy brown hair bouncing with every step and his doe brown eyes wide, ‘they’ll definitely like him. A lot.’

Previous: Synopsis 

Next: Part 2 

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Synopsis:

Peter Parker was happy with his life. He was in college and acing his classes, he had a future at Stark Industries, he and Mr. Stark were getting closer, and Spider Man was officially in the Avengers Initiative. Everything was good.

Then Parker Luck had to fuck it all up.

Again.

Or, where Peter falls into another world where Batman runs the mob, he gains four sugar daddies, and is best friends with a clown's girlfriend.

He really needs a break.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - of 10