Chapter Text
Peter turned the corner on the sidewalk, following the crowd, it was like second nature for him now, to avoid alleyways, hands in your pockets, eyes on other people, grip belonging and most importantly to no trust the police. Well yes he didnt trust them much when he was home in Queens, it was all the more stressed while in Gotham.
Two months, thats all the time he needed to adapt, it was easy after he planted his feet down, finding an apartment complex that in the past was essentially nuked by some guy named ‘Dr Phosphorus’. Karen informed his that the monthly cost was low, and in reality most of the radiation had decayed, and the little that remained would be comforting on Peters body. And it was.
“Morning Peter” The newspaper boy greets handing Peter a newspaper, just a month ago it was Peters job, but he landed a new one at a nearby electronic repairs shop, only working on the weekends, but it pays equivalent of a whole week.
“Morning, make some good money today, yeah?” Peter greets waving as he walks away
Peter strides to the library, its not the place he likes to visit the most, especially after he was informed by Karen that the main lady there, was in fact a vigilante, and while yes. Thats great! An informed side kick/ seat woman for the vigilantes in the city is amazing.. it also meant that if she started to suspect him of anything, his life could be at risk.
its all because of the Anti- Meta laws.
Ands as far as Peter is aware, he’s one of em.
He popped on a facemask when entering the library, quietly putting this borrowed books in the drop off bin before waltzing over to the engineering books, looking for the specific one Karen told him to grab, because of her lacking new (old) software, she could not pull off the internet, and Peter refused to pirate when he could just pick up a copy himself (plus he likes the feeling of a book in his hands). But as he reaches for the book, a smaller hand grabs it just before him.
They meet eyes, a boy, slightly tanned skin, blue eyes and black messy hair thats been noticeably tamed by product. Looking about 12-13, if he had to put an age to the face.
“Pardon me, my.. elder brother demanded I grab this book for him, he stated this volume was the most important to his recent projects” he says, speaking eloquently. A bit too eloquent for a kid as young as him, but Peter just shrugs.
“Its fine, im sure I can pick up the same volume from a book store or from the library when your brother finishes” Peter shrugs, but upon hearing his voice the boy stills. “Something wrong kid?”
The boy shakes his head “I am not a kid” he states gripping the book.
“Sure, sure, you look like you still have a curfew” Peter jokes back, unable to resist the urge to tease.
“You’re saying you dont look the same?” The boy scoffs, he’s not wrong, Peter looked maybe 15 at the least but he was nearly 17, well not nearly since its October but close enough..
“Ha. Ha. Im not 12” Peter laughs drily.. but the boy furrows his brows.
“Do you come here often?” He asks suddenly.
“Only to pick up and drop off books, why?” Peter crosses his arms.
“You remind me of someone.”
Peter panics for a second heart rate increasing immeasurably high, before remembering, there is no Peter Parker in this world, never will be. So whoever this kid thinks he is or thinks he looks like.. isn’t something he needs to worry about.. probably.
“Damian Wayne.”
“Huh?” Peter tilts his head.
“My name.” Damian says bluntly, seeming oddly hostile? “… Ill tell Drake to finish his work quickly, stop by tomorrow and ill see if I can get the book to you.”
“You think your brother can finish that whole book jn one night?” Peter raises an eyebrow, to which Damian scoffs.
“Yes. He can indeed finish this book within a couple hours.”
Theres a hostility or irritability radiating from the kid, but Peter pays it no mind, maybe he just started puberty or something. “Okay then, ill be here tomorrow.”
Peter wave off to Damian who only glares, seriously is the kid constipated or something? Maybe whoever he reminds him of aint that good of a guy huh…
Peter heads home, fast, avoiding shortcuts, walking by all the smaller places he used to work, before entering his ever so slightly irradiated apartment, the prices were low and despite the sketchy contract that made is so the homeowner had no responsibility if the tenants contract radiation poisoning, it was fine.
Damian Wayne
He feels like the name is important, like something is nagging at him, he knew to a degree that Wayne was a important family, owning some tech company or whatever. But for the first time he needed to check this out.
“Karen.” He calls out as he sets his bag on the ground by the door “Run through the results for the Wayne family, show me anything that stands out” Peter yawns as he speaks collapsing onto his shoddy mattress.
“Is there a particular reason for this inquiry?” Karens robotic voice rings out from the makeshift home computer.
“Just curious.” Peter shrugs..
Theres the sounds of electronic whrrrrrrrr and clicks of the fans in her computer box thing. In all honestly, he did a crap job repairing her, didnt have the materials to do it right. But he knew deep down he would fall apart without some kind of memory of home. Even if Dr Strange told him to let go.
“I found something of interest” Karen suddenly speaks up.
Yeah lets focus on that.
“Yup ill be right there” he sighs getting up with with a hup! But as he approaches the screen.. his blood runs cold. The Wayne family, and in that family photo sits a man. A man Peter only remembers from a family photo that hung from Uncle Ben’s wall. Richard Greyson Parker. Except here he was Richard Greyson Wayne. “This- this cant be right- Karen Dr Strange said—“
“Mary Parker does not exist, the only reason we did not catch this earlier is because the man if fully grown and lives a city over, he no longer has much of a standing in the city, though he does make a trip every month or so for dinner” Karen speaks, snapping Peter from his worry driven trance “This world can not have a Peter Parker. But, biologically, your father can still-“
“That man is not my dad.” Peter cuts through his voice shaky.
“…” electronic whrrs come from the computer “I understand. I suggest you eat dinner and rest. But this information could be very useful, it is a fact that this apartment will not have adequate heating for you when this winter comes along, perhaps you can-”
“Im not going to- to show up on their door step like a cat in the rain” Peter interrupts “Im fine on my own Karen, I’ve made it through the past months just fine, im not going to go up and claim a-a blood right to money or-“
“Peter your cortisol levels have increased drastically, I suggest sleep and a nutrient rich meal” Karen spits out facts, its become a problem, since coming to this world she lost all the ‘empathy’ Tony had, mostly because of the damage all his stuff took when he was just unceremonious dropped from the sky.
“Yeah.”
He walks over to the fridge, all the food he has is either readymade microwave meals or simple things, the cupboard is filled with canned foods. Reminiscent of his bathroom drawers that has about 3 bottles of aspirin in case of a fever.. A minor sickness could be debilitating given his metabolism..
He closes the fridge deciding whatever is in there isn’t worth eating because he’s just nervous or whatever, opting to reach for a can of tuna. Popping it open and pressing it onto a piece of bread, it could be good, if he had onion, mayo, paperback cheese and pickles. But he doesn’t, not even a toaster. So its just soggy bread with tuna, unstrained tuna.
“Peter, I do believe seeking out the Wayne family would be beneficial to-“
“Karen. Mute.”
Peter lays down on the mattress shoving the bread in his mouth as if he was the non existent toaster. He really could have used that stupid handbook. He really hopes that Damian kid wasn’t kidding about the whole ‘brother being smart’ stuff. He’s aware to a degree about the Wayne family happenings nothing big, why would a spider as small as him worry about what a hawk does in their nest. He technically attends the Gotham Academy, only on paper, never shows up to class, drops off all his work. Its just for the degree, since attendance doesn’t count for his grade, thats all that matters. Just so he can keep keeping on.
Like what Tony would tell him to do.
Peter rolls onto his side, nestling in the blankets.
Since coming here he’’s felt colder, even Karen acknowledged that his body is failing to self regulate heat.
He just hopes he can get spare parts from his job to build a heater.
Just keep on keeping on
The clock doesn’t stop.
Damian gets home, shoving the book into Tims hands. “Wooah, calm down demon, im thankful you got this for me~“ Damian rolls his eyes at Tims tone, saying his thanks in a sing-song voice. “Whats with the attitude? You got a rock in your shoe?” Tim teases.
“Finish the book by this morning and give it to me at breakfast, Drake” Damian says irritated with the infantilization.
Damian storms up to his room, pushing past Alfred in his annoyance before sitting on his bed replaying the day in his mind. Hes not crazy, he knows that, and he also know for a fact something was up with the teen he met at the library, same voice, same sense of dry stupid childish humor, same eye shape. It was like someone took the childhood photo’s of Dick off the wall, photo copied them then ran them through photoshop and just color shifted everything, hair slightly more brown, eyes brown skin ever slightly tanner, but the build was still the same, even without seeing the lower half of his face due to that flimsy paper mask he could tell..
It had to be the same.
And that left a pit in his stomach. Dick was really the one who raised him, Bruce tried and in Damians eyes often fell short he didnt hate Bruce but for a while Dick was the closest thing to a dad, even now he’s probably the only one he can say he somewhat looks up to so even just the thought that… someone new can just come into the house?
Take his place?
Take what little praise he gets?
No. Not happening. If that teen has the families blood, he needs to prove his worth. Damians eyes glint to the katana gently placed on the wall, freshly polished.
Prove his worth.
His lips press into an annoyed line.