Text"You are late," were the first words out of Damian's mouth when they met at the ticket booths.
"Jason's fault," Peter said blithely.
"That's a fuckin' lie," Jason drawled, slinging an arm over Peter's shoulder and drawing him close. Peter expected the move — his awareness of the web was growing every day — but the warmth of Jason wassomething he tried not to react to. "Petey still hasn't clued into the Gotham weather."
Peter scowled. "The forecast said seventy-two and clear!"
All six Waynes (and adjacent) looked pointedly at the parking lot beyond their shelter. Rain poured steadily. To the north, there was a patch of about ten car spaces that were being firmly avoided by visitors because they had flooded ankle deep. Peter's scowl deepened when they returned their gazes to him: all shared identical looks of condescending pity. From a family of adoptees, the resemblance was uncanny.
"If there's one thing you'll need to learn, Pete," Steph laughed, her smooth ponytail frizted with humidity, "it's that the weatherman doesn't know shit when it comes to Gotham."
Cass nodded sagely to her left. "True."
"Pretty sure they just guess," Duke chuckled ruefully. "One too many ASOS[1] stations destroyed. Or those weather balloons shot on sight. Now they just random number generate a prediction."
"You must learn to be prepared for any eventuality," Damian said, his expression sombre. "Gotham is an unpredictable place."
"That's what I said to him, boy scout, but did he wanna listen?" Jason said. Peter elbowed him when he attempted to ruffle his hair. "He wouldn't change into something more appropriate until the rain was fallin' sideways."
"It might've cleared up!" Peter said mulishly.
Again: six pitying stares.
He rolled his eyes and threw out a leg to model the heavy-duty boots that had mysteriously appeared from God knows where — they certainly weren't Jason's and were far too new to be his hand-me-downs. "I'm 'dressed appropriately' now," he huffed, mildly embarrassed.
The Waynes (and adjaced) dutifully 'ooed' in appreciation.
He should be grateful, he supposed, that Jason didn't share the real reason why they got caught up in the traffic that had actually made them late. It was too mortifying to admit that Peter nearly had a meltdown over a pair of shoes that were definitely new and definitely bought by Jason even if he swore on his own grave (like a weirdo) that he never bought them. But who else would have[2]?
Eventually, he'd given in and put them on, but only because it was pissing down with rain and he didn't fancy a day of traipsing around in soaked sneakers.
He could at least admit to himself that the boots were doing a great job keeping his feet warm and dry. But he'd rather eat one than admit that to Jason.
"Okaayyy." Dick clapped his hands. "We're all here now. Shall we?"
They bought their tickets (Peter was proud he'd earned enough to pay for his own and Jason's, and dutifully ignored the mocking 'awws' from Steph and Dick) and went in, armed with umbrellas and rain-resistant coats. Determined to match the miserable rain, the day was paired with a bitter cold that was already tingling across Peter's hands. He'd need to buy himself some gloves soon if this was what winter promised.
Though Peter had rugged up with a thicker jacket and a scarf once he'd accepted that the weatherman was a liar, he still stuck close to Jason, who radiated heat like a furnace. Peter was endlessly jealous: what he wouldn't give to have a body that could competently regulate body heat again!
As soon as they were through the gates, Damian took charge of the entire operation, whipping out the map he'd taken from the ticket booths. They huddled over the brochure with their umbrellas. Jason's was enormous — the kind that could probably have fit a family of four if they were trying — and Peter capitalised on it to press himself close, arm tucked into his. Jason huffed with amusement but then switched the umbrella to his other hand and disentangled from Peter to throw his arm over his shoulder and tug him even closer.
Peter shoved down the guilt at the easy accommodation and the flush of pleasure that followed. It had been so long since he'd shared the simple delight of touch. This was just meant to be way to further their gay agenda, even if it was pushing at the boundaries of PDA that either were comfortable with.
Still… he made no attempt to extricate himself.
"We will sweep the zoo from the northwest corner then to the east and proceed in a zig-zag fashion back to the exit." Damian demonstrated their 'plan of attack' with an imperious finger swept across the glossy paper. A few raindrops hand already slipped past the combined umbrella shelter, puckering the surface. "At noon, we'll convene for lunch at the koi ponds before continuing. There is a raptor feeding show at fourteen hundred hours that I expect us to attend."
Peter raised a brow at the teen's militaristic language, but besides Duke (who was merely rolling his eyes with fond exasperation), the others didn't react.
When none of them argued with Damian's plan, he led them on the warpath, marching straight past exhibits to be 'saved for later'. Peter took them in as best he could. Gotham, for all that it was a shitshow of a city, had a surprisingly well-furnished zoo. The greenery in particular was impressive: lush and verdant and practically seething with vitality. He barely had to even touch the web to sense the energy that burned like a low fire amongst it.
He noted their strangeness to Jason as they passed the gibbons enclosure. The apes sung like banshees, mournfully haunting their thick patch of artificial rainforest.
"Ah." Jason shrugged. "That'll be Ivy's doing, I bet."
"… Poison Ivy?"
"She's mostly reformed these days. Or at least, there's a truce in place. Every now and then she adopts some part of the city and works her magic."
"And she's picked the zoo?" Peter eyed the coconut palms that sprouted around the edges of 'The Tropics' enclosures. They had no business thriving so well in a city like Gotham. "I suppose it offers her a lot of biomes to play around with…"
"I think this time she actually worked with the zoo for the refurb. Usually, she just decides that patch of land is hers now."
Peter shuddered to think of the power Ivy must have, to maintain so many plants that should have withered and rotted in Gotham's unfriendly climate. Was it a conscious power? Was she actively keeping all of them alive, or was she simply the spark and the plants did the rest for themselves?
"I wouldn't mind meeting her…" he mused aloud.
Jason nearly stumbled. "That's… a bad idea."
"What's a bad idea?" Dick asked, continuing to demonstrate his lack of understanding for inconvenient things like 'boundaries' and 'private conversations'. He was pointedly ignored.
"I just think she'd be a fascinating person to talk to!"
"Yeaaah. Not sure if Ivy'd agree with you there."
"Poison Ivy?" Dick sounded both alarmed and delighted. "She's… not particularly friendly. To men in particular."
"Oh." Peter was momentarily disappointed. "… What if I approached her with a research proposal?"
"Do you have one?" asked Jason.
"No. But I could make one."
"You trying to dip your toes in a little villainy, Pete?" Dick laughed and sent Jason a look that went over Peter's head. Literally and figuratively.
"I mean…" Peter hitched his voice like he was seriously considering it. "It must be a lucrative business, right? And who doesn't want their own minions?"
"It's very fashionable these days," Jason agreed and Peter shot him an appreciative grin.
"See! Jace gets me. For that, you can be my left-hand man."
"Oh? And who'd be your right?"
"Dog, obviously. Right after I install her as overlord."
"Ah. We're back on the dismantling capitalism thing, huh? Not sure how that makes her your right-hand man though. Seems like it should be the other way 'round."
"Weeell. She's just a figurehead, 'cause no one could actively dislike her! She'd be so popular no one would even know all the elections were rigged. I'd be working from the shadows. Naturally."
Dick had a very strange look on his face when Peter realised he was still there, but was prevented from asking if he was okay by Damian's announcement that they'd reached their destination: the Reptile House.
The Reptile House was a relatively nondescript warehouse painted sage green. The entrance was decorated with a collection of large, concrete lizards, tortoises and alligators that a pair of intrepid six-year-olds were attempting to jump along while their father watched beneath the hood of a heavy-duty raincoat. Damian led them inside and all were relieved to close their umbrellas and let the water drip onto the painted concrete floor. Peter was reluctantly grateful for his new boots: he'd have fallen flat on his ass if he'd attempted to walk through that his sneakers.
Inside, the air was close and humid, with the faintest undercurrent of animal musk, swampy water and meat. Above them, rain thundered softly against the corrugated PVC roofing, mottled with age and lichen that let in only a pitiful amount of light. With the murals painted across the walls, it felt a lot like stepping into a rainforest.
There was another map on the wall, but the exhibit was a straightforward, closed circuit that rounded back to the entrance. Peter didn't pay it much attention because Damian materialised before him.
"Parker. There is a particular exhibit that would interest you. Come."
"Uhm…?"
"It's easier just letting him," Jason huffed, and nudged Peter with his shoulder. He shot Peter a wink when he glanced back. "I'll hang back with the old man and the ladies."
"Oi!" Dick squawked in outrage and Peter allowed himself to be dragged along by Damian.
"I think he'll follow just fine without you haulin' him along, Dames," said Duke, who easily kept pace on his long legs. He had at least four inches on Peter — maybe more — a solid build and an efficiency of movement that spoke of someone used to testing their body. His oversized maroon jacket did nothing to hide that, and a glance at his hands showed the same scarring around the hands and calluses Peter noticed on the rest of the Wayne family (and adjacents), though they weren't as extensive as some.
Damian dutifully let go of Peter's sleeve but continued walking with all the assuredness of someone confident they'd be followed. Duke kept easy pace with Peter, looking curiously into the glass-walled enclosures. Damian allowed them to stop at a couple — Peter particularly liked the one with the panther chameleon, which flashed a vivid green and teal the moment they appeared outside its leafy enclosure. It's cone-shaped eyes jumped between Peter and Duke warily and when he tapped into the web, he thought maybe he could feel a thrum of… something? He'd scarcely enough time to skim the brief description about chromatophores before Damian shoved them along.
"We're almost there!"
"Where — oh. Wow," Peter said without thought when they rounded the corner of the corridor.
The walls of reptile displays suddenly opened up into a viewing platform and Peter realised where the stink of stagnant water came from. The warehouse must have been much larger than he'd first thought, because the platform they stood on was raised above a sizeable pond, the waters greenish-brown and opaque, edged with tall reeds and palms. The insipid light working its way through the Gotham cloud cover and skylights was washed out by the huge bulbs that poured light and heat down on the crocodiles lying on the muddy shores like enormous scaly cats. Peter counted at least five of them. He pressed against the vine-covered railings to try and spot any more in the water.
"Cool, huh?" Duke agreed, joining Peter.
"I always liked crocodiles and alligators and stuff," Peter admitted. "Apex predators, y'know? The whole 'living fossil' thing wigs me out."
"Lemme guess: you were a dinosaur kid."
Peter gave him a disbelieving stare. "And you weren't?"
"Oh, sure, sure."
Peter got the impression Duke was humouring him, but he didn't care. He dropped into the web to see if he could suss out the crocs like he had the chameleon but was immediately grabbed by the vitality of the plants, just like before. The entire enclosure blazed with life, so thick with it Peter half-imagined he'd choke on it. The longer he stayed attuned, the greater the impression grew that it was watching him back.
Something brushed tentatively against his hand and Peter yelped with surprise and wrenched his hand off the rail.
"Pete?" Duke asked, mildly concerned.
"Just a bug!" Peter said and shook his hand for effect.
"Not a fan?"
"Of them crawling on me? Uh. No."
"Bitch, same." Duke grinned and turned back to watch the crocodiles.
Heart thundering, Peter looked down at the railings he'd been leaning against. Free Killer Croc! someone had jokingly (Peter assumed) scratched into the wood, but Peter was more interested in the vines curled lovingly over the beams. A lacework of aerial roots were etched into old paint. Or they should have, but as he watched with rising horror, the end of one spear-leaved vine dislodged itself again to attempt caress his other hand.
Peter abruptly stepped away and he could have sworn he felt disappointment resonate through the web.
He cut himself off from it entirely and turned to Damian.
"This is what you wanted to show me?" Peter asked, wincing at the strain in his voice. Fuck he hoped Damian and Duke hadn't seen anything. Becausewhaaaat the fuck.
Damian, who had been glaring at the crocodiles with a look that bordered on resentment — weird — tore his eyes away from the reptiles to land his scornful gaze on Peter instead. He scoffed.
"That was simply a ruse, Parker. Keep up."
Peter met Duke's wry stare and Damian sucked his teeth.
"I simply wished to know. How. Are you?"
Peter smiled and hoped it came across as bemused rather than manic. "I'm fine. Damian, if this is about Sunday, it's water under the bridge."
Damian was quiet for a time and Peter bore his scrutiny with as much grace as he could manage. At his back, he felt one of the vines stroke insistently against his palm and hoped to hell that neither boy noticed.
Eventually, Damian nodded. "Very well." His expression shifted and opened up. "Have you been maintaining Dog's—" he grimaced at the name, "training regimen? How are you proceeding?"
Peter latched onto the opening with the enthusiasm of a drowning man. He grinned brightly to hide his internal freak out and fumbled for his phone, fingers a little clumsy with the residual cold and sentient vine-induced nerves. "I have! I even recorded us. Look!"
Damian watched the video Peter pulled up with an intense stare. He had Jenny record for him yesterday when she turned up at the park. Jenny wasn't there all the time (fortunately, or he would have been concerned), but she'd taken to demanding Peter let her play with Dog. He suspected she missed dog-sitting and was more than happy to let the pair run around. While Jenny tired her and Dog out, Peter took the time to practice connecting and tracking the two through the web. He still hadn't cracked how to differentiate between specific humans (beyond adult or child) but he thought he was getting close.
When the footage finished, Damian replayed it, studying the routine while Dog danced through the long grass.
"You've done well," he said, short and clipped. Duke, who had rounded to watch over Damian's shoulder, spluttered in surprise.
"Praise? From Damian?" he gasped theatrically. "Now that's hard to come by!"
Damian twisted and glared up haughtily. "I acknowledge competence when it's due."
"Ohhhh. Wow. Could've fooled me?"
"The only one fooling themselves is you if you think yourself competent, Thomas." The remark should have been cutting, but Damian delivered it with such a smug grin both of them knew it wasn't meant to be taken seriously. Then he rounded back to Peter. "The camera quality of your phone is very high. What model is it?"
"Ah." Peter laughed nervously and slipped the incriminating device (dammit) back into his coat pocket. "I, uh, I made it?"
"Seriously?" Duke whistled, impressed. Damian appeared… less so. He was staring at Peter the same way he'd watched the video, like he was unpicking a tightly woven knot. "You gotta be pretty damn good at your job."
"I'm not bad, yeah." He tried to ignore Damian's eyes drilling into his forehead.
"Have you thought of going to college?" Duke asked. "I bet you'd be able to do even more with something like an engineering degree."
The 'E' word made Peter think of Mr Stark. What would he have thought, if that was something Peter pursued? Proud? Flattered? … Both?
Probably both.
Not that it mattered anymore, anyway. Mr Stark and anyone else who would have cared was dead. And those who weren't, didn't even know who he was anymore.
"Pete?"
He blinked. Oh. He'd zoned out again. Guiltily, he licked his lips and made himself answer. "I… never got to finish high school."
Duke's eyes widened with realisation. Peter figured the others had filled him in on the rest of his 'sob story' last week. "Oh. Yeah. Guess that'd make things hard."
"But not impossible," Damian piped up, frowning at Peter as though he was being stupid. It was hard to tell if that was intentional or just a Damian thing, though. The kid had sharp eyes. "You appear to have some capabilities."
Appear to, Duke mouthed, rolling his eyes with amusement.
"I don't see why you can't take the GED. That is what Drake did and he had a far less sensible reason for making himself the shame of the family."
Duke poorly held back a snicker and Damian appeared faintly pleased with himself. Was this normal for siblings? Peter felt his only childhood resonate strongly.
"I've… thought about it," he confessed when both returned their attentions to him. "But I don't know how—"
He cut himself off. He'd been about to say 'how long I'll be here for'. Not exactly the kind of thing you wanted to say to the people you wanted to trick into thinking you were dating their brother.
Duke misinterpreted his abrupt silence. "Tim didhave to get his GEDs. And I could tutor you, if you think you need it? I just graduated."
Peter blinked at the surprise offer. "I…" Shit, he was genuinely touched. His eyes suddenly burned with emotion. "You don't have to—"
"I'm offering." Duke shrugged. "College only just started; it's not whooping my ass just yet. Hell," he added with a grin. "I'll even charge you."
Laughter burst out of him, bright and unexpected. It drew the attention of Jason and Dick, who'd just joined them, though Cass and Steph were nowhere to be seen. Peter waved them off as the tightness in his chest abruptly eased.
"How much does Duke Thomas, experienced tutor, charge?"
"Hmm…" Duke tapped his foot on the ground as he thought. "How about twenty bucks an hour?"
"Twenty?" That didn't seem like a lot, but he had to remind himself it was only 2016 here, and there'd been no Blip to throw currencies out of whack.
"Okay, I admit I was pushing it," Duke laughed, misinterpreting his silence once again. "How about fifteen?"
Fifteen was even worse! Peter shook his head. "Twenty-five. And I'd only need it for social sciences. Maybe English."
Science and math would be a breeze, but this world had a completely different modern history that was sure to skew things for the other two. Even though he wouldn't be around long enough to even think about college applications, getting his GEDs was a point of pride that had burned back home. And sure, he could have fudged around with his school history, but Peter had been unwilling to compromise on what little of his identity he could hold onto.
"Tw-twenty-five?" Duke stared at him with horror. "No way man, that's daylight robbery! Fifteen!"
"Twenty-five."
Damian frowned. "Neither of you appear to understand how bartering works."
"Fifteen, Peter! I'm offering as a friend — I'd have done it for free!"
"You're being unreasonable! I'm good for the money! Value yourself more."
"This is ridiculous," Damian huffed. "Todd!"
"What?"
"You keep saying no and I'll go higher! Twenty-eight!"
"Who are you? Bruce Wayne? Twelve bucks! For twohours!"
"Why are you arguing?" Jason materialised behind Peter and placed two hands on his shoulders. Where he'd previously been, Dick was on the phone and frowning.
Peter twisted around to glare desperately up at him. "Duke won't let me pay him properly!"
"For… what?"
"I offered to tutor him!" Duke huffed. "Pete's grasp of money seems shaky at best."
"I understand money plenty fine!"
"Oookay," Jason said. "Duke, how much?"
"Fifteen—
"He said twenty to start!"
Jason turned Peter around to frown down at him properly. "And you're… mad about the discount?"
"Twenty-five should be his going rate," Peter said seriously.
"Pete, no one's paying twenty bucks an hour for a tutor," Duke complained.
Peter rounded back on him. "They should!"
"Man, you don't even know if I'm good!"
"He's got a point," Damian observed. "For all you know, Dog could do a better job."
"Oi!"
Jason stared up at the splotchy plastic roofing above as though it might offer guidance. The rain appeared to have calmed down, though it was still grey and gloomy. He shook Peter a little. In a fond way. "Okay. Pete, you pay Duke the twenty. Duke, you take the money — you're both being massive dumbasses and I'm embarrassed by both of you. Of the two of you, Petey's the one with the job. He can afford it." He frowned. Looked back at Peter. "You can afford it, right?"
Peter bristled. "Of course I can! But I still don't think—"
"It's called a compromise, Petey. I'm sure you're aware of the concept."
Peter pouted. Jason covered it up with an over-large hand over his face.
"None of that. I don't need you bringing out theeyes."
He huffed against the warm, callused palm. He didn't really know what Jason meant by that. "Fine."
Jason took his hand away and rounded on Duke. "Well?"
"Fine." Duke glared at Peter. "I'm gonna tutor the hell out of you."
"You'd better."
They shook on it.
"Right," Jason sighed. "Now that that ridiculous scene is outta the way, I suggest we move on. Dami, what's next?"
"The Birds of the Tropics."
"Cool. Let's see some fancy fucking birds, yeah?"
They carried on; Peter's hand was firmly wrapped in Jason's like he was worried Peter might throw himself into another argument with a sibling. Duke kept pace beside him as they discussed the details about tutoring.
It was a foolish thing to agree to. Peter knew that. For all he knew, he could be gone by next week. But he couldn't help himself. He… missed this kind of thing. Missed learning. Missed being a student. Feeling like there were people who felt the same as he did about academics. And Peter was… weak. He was so tired of being strong.
"I'd like you to know," Damian said to them very seriously as they left the Reptile House (it had indeed stopped raining). "That I am wildly disappointed in both of you."
Peter and Duke both burst into laughter.
— + —
"Where've they gone?"
"Where've who gone?" Jason tilted his head in question. Unbeknownst to him, a yellow and black butterfly had landed right on a curl of his white hair. Peter glanced down at his bingo card and crossed off eastern tiger swallowtail[3].
"Five."
"Shit."
"Dick, Duke and Cass. I swear they were just with us!"
Jason looked around the butterfly house. It was a large greenhouse, teeming with the kinds of plants most would probably consider weeds (thistle, milkweed and clover were the only ones Peter could confidently identify), but were artfully arranged in sweeping beds of colour, positively teeming with butterflies and the odd bumblebee.
Fortunately for Peter's sanity, none of the plants had attempted to say hello.
"Can't see 'em." Jason shrugged, unconcerned, and was momentarily startled by the swallowtail that flew off him. "Maybe they went to the bathroom."
"But!" Peter frowned. "They're missing out."
He tried to think of when he'd last seen them as he attempted to get an orange sulphur (already ticked off, dammit) to climb onto his finger from a thistle. It flew away instead: all of the butterflies had avoided him so far. Peter tried not to take it personally.
The others had definitely been with them when they left the Tropics, and Peter was pretty sure he'd seen Dick veer away from the golden orb vivarium? But after that… he was drawing a blank. He attempted to find them on the web, but it was a hopeless endeavour when he couldn't differentiate people, and the zoo had only grown busier. It was late morning now and the web was alive with vibrations, too many for Peter to separate anything from a distance when he was still so new at it. Just connecting was giving him the beginnings of a headache.
"Pete?" Jason was frowning at him. It was a mild frown though. The one he had when he was concerned, not exasperated or angry. "You there?"
Ah. Oops. Jason only asked that when he spaced out. He smiled in reassurance. "Yeah."
Jason, unfortunately, wasn't reassured. "Do you need to—"
"Parker! How many have you got?"
Jason scowled at Steph's interruption, but Peter latched gratefully onto the distraction. "Five!"
"Loser!" Steph sing-songed, ignoring the scandalised mother glaring at her. She waved her paper around like a flag. "I've got six!"
"Crap."
Butterfly Bingo had quickly devolved into a fierce competition between them, even if Damian had technically won only five minutes into the house. He'd flung his crossed-out card at Jason before abandoning them to attempt to cover himself in as many butterflies as was humanly possible.
Peter said 'attempted' but considering there were about twenty crawling over Damian's arms and head, he was actually succeeding. Unable to stop himself, Peter snapped a picture with his phone: the boy had the softest, most satisfied smile he'd ever seen.
He immediately sent the picture to Duke with a '????????????? Where ARE you????????' tacked on for good measure. He was left unread.
"If it was just them going to the restroom," he mused to Jason, "wouldn't they be back by now?"
"Maybe." Peter could hear the shrug in his voice. "Knowing Dick, he's just got them distracted. You'll see: they'll turn up with something stupid like a turkey leg or a child-sized plushie or somethin'." He snorted. "Or an actual child."
Peter turned back to Jason, but the sass he'd been about to throw back froze in his throat. Two butterflies were clambering across Jason's hand while he stared at them with a complicated expression. They looked out of place, powder-blue and an almost translucent yellow, terribly delicate against Jason's scarred knuckles. When he slowly tilted his hand, they continued to climb upwards to sit upon the highest perch of his fingers.
In that moment, Peter though Jason looked shockingly, disarmingly young.
He checked his bingo card. Yes! He checked off the eastern tailed-blue and clouded sulphur. "Seven!"
"You bastard!" Steph cried. "Where?"
Jason looked up at Peter and grinned toothily. He gently flicked his hand and the butterflies launched into the air before Steph could crash into them.
"Sorry, they're gone." Jason was smirking as he crossed one of the butterflies off his card.
"Ahhh you tit! I bet you scared them away." Steph slung an arm over Peter's shoulder and Peter dutifully showed her his card. He was two away from Bingo. She sucked her teeth and pushed his hand away in disgust. "How'd the goblin manage to get them all so quickly? You think maybe he doused himself with butterfly pheromones or something?"
All three turned to observe Damian and his menagerie of fawning butterflies. He noticed them staring and gave them the middle finger. Coupled with the haughty stare, he looked like a fae king sneering down at his subjects.
In jeans.
Feeling daring, Peter snapped another picture.
The glare intensified. A second middle finger joined the first but further retribution did not come.
Peter took another picture.
"Ohhhh, you should send that to me," Steph chuckled as she leaned against his shoulder. She was apparently the kind of person to use their whole body to do so. The average person would probably have stumbled beneath her, but Peter did not. "I gotta use that for future blackmail purposes."
Obediently, Peter forwarded the picture to her (and another to Duke for good measure — still unread). Based on the punishing glare burning a hole in his forehead, Damian would be demanding he delete the pictures the moment he decided the butterflies weren't worth it.
Peter sent him back a broad grin and took another photo for good measure.
"Menaces, the both of you," Jason huffed.
"That may be," Peter said, and put his phone away. "But I'm a menace who's about to beat you."
"Oh yeah?" Jason waved his card at Peter. There was only one butterfly left. "You sure about that, Petey?"
Both Peter and Steph gasped in scandal and broke apart. The game was on.
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In the end, despite their best efforts, Jason won. Peter maintained he cheated and was supported by Steph. They both watched enviously while Jason approached the tired woman at the entrance to exchange his bingo card for a lollipop.
"Sorry, Pete. It sucks to suck," he said upon return, and then, ironically, began to suck on his ill-gotten candy.
"Delete them," Damian demanded, having abandoned his fawning butterfly followers to glare furiously at Peter and Steph. He poked Peter with a force that probably would have left bruises if Peter weren't part-spider. "Delete them, delete them, delete them!"
"Sorry, Dalek, your orders have no hold over me." Peter grinned. He danced out of Damian's way when he attempted pickpocket Peter's phone. "I've already saved them to the cloud and installed a dead-man switch! If you kill me, they'll be sent to everyone in my contacts list!"
"You are as insufferable as your partner," Damian growled. "I wish you years of misery together!"
"Aww." Jason ruffled Damian's hair — or attempted to. He was thwarted by a sharp smack of his hand. "You just say the darndest things."
"I can send you the pictures, though?" Peter offered, figuring he could at least throw him a bone. "They're pretty great, if you ask me."
"Wha— Parker!" Steph cried. "We spoke about this! The opportunities for blackmail were endless!"
"I seek a life of peace and prosperity for all."
"That's the biggest crock of shit I ever heard in my life."
Peter poked his tongue at Jason, who had started crunching on his lollipop like an absolute freak, then sent Damian the string of photos he'd taken. Damian looked them over with the same critical eye he'd used watching the video with Dog.
"These are… adequate," he admitted. "Alfred would enjoy them, I suppose."
Peter huffed a laugh. "If you say so."
The four of them wandered back through the bugs exhibit (both Peter and Damian had Thoughts™ about the zoo using the 'B' word when they'd included displays of centipedes and spiders). Peter's eyes got caught again on the golden orb weavers as they left. They'd set the lights in the huge vivarium just right to catch the delicate strands against the black wall behind.
His wrists itched.
Suddenly anxious, he followed the others out. The sky was heavy and black with the threat of rain, but the heavens had yet to re-open. They were greeted by the missing three who wore matching, grim expressions that slipped away when they saw Peter and the rest.
"Damian, my butterfly prince!" Dick cried and picked up the squawking teen to twirl him around. "You looked so handsome!"
"Grayson I will curse your bloodline! Put me down!" Damian hissed, and then did something to Dick's hand that had him dropping the teen with a pained yelp.
"Where'd you go?" Peter asked Duke, who grimaced.
"Sorry, man. Bugs really aren't my thing. I had to get out."
"Oh…" He hadn't thought before that Duke was freaked out by the exhibit, but maybe he was just really good at masking.
"I kept him company," Dick added, slinging a consolatory arm around Duke, who rolled his eyes but didn't shrug him off. "As his emotional support animal."
"I… see." Peter glanced at Cass.
She grinned. "I just like to see people in crisis."
Peter blanched at the familiar words and Cass immediately frowned. Against his will, his thoughts turned to MJ. Guilt and grief washed over him, so hard it stole his breath right out of his throat.
What was she doing now?
Was she at college yet? Was she loving it? Peter could imagine MJ throwing herself into every activist role she could at MIT. His nose was suddenly full of her scent — citrus, bright and peppery with a hint of warmth beneath. In his hands, her frizzy hair. He loved carding his fingers through it, destroying and reshaping the waves of it. MJ would complain but let him do it anyway. He could have sat for hours with her head in his lap, some stupid show playing on the TV, just touching. And then they'd get up and Peter would laugh himself stupid at the bird's nest he'd made of her hair, and she would punch him in the arm and call him an ass, and then she'd kiss him before she stumbled sleepily to the bathroom to 'fix it'.
That hungry chasm in his chest ached.
Peter had promised her. He'd promised and he'd lied—
And then there were arms around him and it wasn't MJ he was smelling anymore, it was trace scents of gunpowder and cigarettes and layered stronger over that it was leather and sandalwood and coffee and fake raspberry flavouring.
"Breathe, Peter," Jason murmured, the vibrations of his voice passing right through Peter's skull.
He drew in a shaky breath. Flushed out the memories. Struggled to ground himself in the present.
Absently, he felt himself being guided somewhere. He let Jason walk him backwards but kept his face buried in the man's chest. The scent of coffee — MJ hated coffee — kept the thoughts of her at bay, but that chasm where his heart should have been writhed angrily.
Eventually, they stopped. He vaguely wondered where Jason had led him, but not enough to check and he didn't have the fortitude to tap into the web. For a while, Peter let his only struggle be his attempt to match his breathing with Jason's.
"Pete?"
"Sorry, I—"
"You don't gotta apologise."
"I ruined things again."
"You really didn't."
"That's a lie."
"Do I sound like I'm lyin'?"
He paused to think about it. Shook his head.
"You had enough? Wanna go home?"
Peter shook his head against Jason's warm chest. "No. Just… give me a minute."
A hand paused above his head — he could sense its hesitancy — then it ran softly over the back of his hair. Peter let out a faint noise — he couldn't help it even if he'd tried — and the hand passed gently through his curls again. And then again and again, more certain.
Fuck. When was the last time he'd been hugged? Not since the Erasure.
And the last time he'd had one that hadn't smelled of blood?
His hands were pressed up against Jason's chest. He pinched a wrist to drag himself back before he could think of the ruined lobby of a certain luxury apartment block.
Jason caught the movement. Rough hands wrapped around his wrist and tugged. "None of that."
Peter thought of fighting him. But it wasn't worth it. He'd already done what he needed anyway, and the itching of body parts that didn't belong to him was replaced with a bitter throb of pain.
"You wanna talk about it?"
Again, he thought about it. Should have kept it to himself, but the truth was fighting its way to the surface, rising like a cyst to be lanced and purged.
He gave in. Just enough to satisfy the need. Peter was so tired of the lying and the silence.
"Home," he confessed. "What's gone. What I can't get back."
Jason stilled, just for the briefest of moments. "You'll get back, Pete—"
Peter was shaking his head. "No," he said firmly. "No. It's — gone. There was nothing left. Not of me."
The hand not curled around Peter's wrists resumed its carding through Peter's hair. Peter clutched Jason's jacket like a lifeline. He was struck with the mad thought that if he let go, he'd be swept away by the bitter Gotham wind.
"Okay," Jason said eventually. "Okay, Peter."
They stood like that for a long time.
— + —
Peter found himself again.
He didn't know how long they'd been there — tucked behind the bugs exhibit he belatedly realised — but his back was cold and a soft drizzle was falling. Sheltered beneath the warehouse awning, Jason and Peter remained dry; fortunate because Jason's umbrella was nowhere to be found.
He was proud he'd not cried, though his eyes certainly felt that way — raw and burning when he closed them — so it was probably a moot point.
Pulling away was a struggle, but he managed. Jason slouched against the wall the moment he did, watching Peter warily. "You sure you wanna stay? No shame in goin' home."
There was. But Peter kept that to himself. "I'm fine." He forced on a smile. Jason's expression drew on a sucked lemon look. "I'm starving. And you know what they say."
"… What do they say?"
"You're not you when you're hungry."
The sucked lemon look intensified. "Did you just quote a Snickers ad at me."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I—" Jason gusted out a sigh. "You know what. I'm not even surprised anymore."
"Oh good. I've beaten you into submission."
Jason's grin was all teeth. "Sure you have." His pale eyes skimmed over Peter, holding onto his wrist a second too long. Peter couldn't help but tug on the edge of his coat, even though the fresh bruise wasn't visible with his arms down.
"Let's go?" he asked, tentative.
Jason pushed himself off the wall with his shoulders. "Better move quick: Dick's got our umbrella and I don't trust him not to hand it over to the first bedraggled brat that crosses his path."
"Ah. So we're against the dry-children agenda. I see how it is."
Jason's lips twigged upwards. "Fuck them kids."
"You beast."
"That's me."
Jason led Peter back around the building to join the others, huddled together from the drizzle beneath their umbrellas. He paused when the Waynes (and adjacent) looked up upon their approach, but forced himself to keep walking, maintaining a smooth, brave face. Fears of questions were swiftly resolved: it seemed even the Wayne family (and adjacent) had the tact to leave him be. The most acknowledgement he got was Cass, placing a rueful hand on his shoulder while Dick wordlessly handed over Jason's umbrella.
Peter breathed in deeply. He knew his smile was a bit to fixed but there was no helping it. "Are we ready to eat?"
"Alfred packed us lunch," Damian said and pointed at Dick who was carrying a backpack Peter didn't remember seeing before. "Grayson fetched it for us."
"In the cold and the rain, all by myself," Dick lamented.
"Poor Dickie, I bet you were—" Whatever Jason was about to ask was cut off by the appearance of a gaggle of zookeepers in khaki shorts and long-sleeved green shirts. They were led by a harried woman that Peter thought he'd seen in the ocean mammals section.
"I don't know what happened!" she said to the others in low, nervous tones. Peter doubted the Waynes (and adjacent) could hear her. "I just came back from lunch and they were gone!"
They rushed past and Peter, on instinct, glanced back at the Waynes (and adjacent). He was taken aback by Dick's expression: grim and hard-eyed. Utterly alien on his usually genial, handsome face.
And then Peter blinked. And Dick was back, a soft smile smoothed over the hard edges that had surfaced, blue eyes glittering as he gazed back at Peter.
He had something to do with that. The thought came to him, bright and clear and backed by hardened instinct.
Peter kept the realisation clear from his face, hiding it with a smile of his own, shaky and unpracticed as it was. "Shall we go find somewhere to eat?" he asked, and Dick's gaze sharpened with acknowledgement.
"Sounds like a great idea, Pete. I bet there's covered tables at the food court."
He knows you know.
Peter shoved the certainty aside. Whatever was going on with the Waynes (and adjacent) wasn't a mystery for Peter Parker to solve…
… But it might be a mystery for Spider-Man.
[1] The Automated Surface Observing System (ASOS) program is a joint effort between the National Weather Service, the Federal Aviation Administration, and the Department of Defense. ASOS serves as the U.S.'s primary surface weather observing network and supports forecast activities, aviation operations, and the needs of the meteorological, hydrological, and climatological research communities.
[2] It was Tim. Tim would.
[3]Butterflies listed respectively: eastern tiger swallowtail; Orange sulfur; eastern tailed-blue; clouded sulphur
All are native to New Jersey and I definitely didn't spend half an hour researching this. No sir.
[CLICK TO RETURN] Message to Dickhead. Time reads 11:45AM
J 11:26AM: can you seriously not shut off even for a day? TF did yall go. P's wondering where you went.
Dickhead 11:36AM: sry! Had to investigate smth. Ivy called, noticed a disturbance in the force
J 11:37AM: I hate when you try to use pop culture references.
Dickhead 11:37AM: OK Boomer
Dickhead 11:38AM: were coming back now. Meet out?
J 11:41AM: [middle finger emoji] [middle finger emoji] [middle finger emoji]