Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Peter had been surprised by the little things he missed about the life he’d left behind him.  He had expected to miss May and Ned.  He hadn’t expected to miss Flash and his bullying, or his favorite Star Wars poster on his bedroom door.  He hadn’t expected to miss the little white cartons of milk he drank with his lunch at Midtown High.  It was odd how these things worked.  He supposed all of those things represented the normalcy of the life he’d had before.  It had been mediocre, but it had been his.  Now he wished for mediocre during the long cold nights spent under a cardboard box.  He wished for the normalcy of Flash taunting him in the halls between classes, and Ned asking if he could have the rest of Peter’s milk at lunch because he’d choked on the nasty pizza that tasted like plastic that the Midtown cafeteria served every Friday.  That life had gone now… seemed so distant that sometimes Peter wondered when he woke up at night if it had been real at all or a figment of his imagination.

Peter Benjamin Parker was too soft to be living on the streets.  Flash had said it the last time Peter had seen him, and while Ned had called Flash an ass, Peter knew Ned had agreed.  Peter had wanted to protest, to tell Ned that it would be fine, that he was better off on the streets than in foster care where he’d already been beaten a dozen times despite only having been in foster care for a month.  He had wanted to say that, but he hadn’t, because Peter believed what Flash had said and had already been thinking it about himself.

“Peter, you can’t just run away.  What will you do for money?  Where are you gonna sleep?  It’s November and it’ll start snowing soon.” Ned had pleaded with him.  He’d been pleading with him for weeks not to run away.

“Parker run away?” Flash had said with a smirk as he passed their table at lunch in the cafeteria.  “Penis is too soft.  He’d never make it on the streets.  You’re better off hiding him under your bed Leeds.”

Ned had been all for the idea of stashing Peter somewhere safe, but Peter had known it would never work.  The moment he didn’t turn up at school or at the foster home, he’d be reported as a runaway and Ned was the first person they’d check with to see where Peter had gone.  That was just about how things had gone down too.  After he’d left, it had taken three days before Peter was reported missing, and he’d watched from afar as Spider Man while Ned was questioned by police outside his apartment.  He knew Ned would never tell the police where he had gone, but all the same Peter hadn’t told him, just in case.  If Ned didn’t know where he was, then Ned couldn’t get in trouble.  After that Peter had cut ties with everyone he had ever known, which wasn’t hard since Aunt May had died, and Ned was his only friend.

Peter thought of Ned often after that last day he had seen him.  He felt bad about how he had left because he hadn’t told Ned that he was leaving that day after school and never coming back.  He had waved goodbye to his one and only friend after school and hopped on a city bus.  He hadn’t told Ned, but he had a feeling his friend had known anyway, because Ned just stood on the sidewalk and stared after him.  That had been at the start of November.  It was in the middle of December now, and just as Ned had predicted, the temperatures had dropped and it had started snowing just after Peter had left.

Peter hugged himself for warmth, jumping up and down where he stood under an awning of a boarded up business in Brooklyn.  The snow from that morning had turned into sleet, and the icy rain was pelting the city, perhaps trying to punish Peter for being such a bad friend.  Despite that his spider suit was made of old sweatpants and hoodies, Peter was freezing.  With little to do in the daytime now that he wasn’t in school, he spent his time out in the city helping people as Spider Man, some of whom repaid him for his help with food.  Just that morning a little old lady had bought him a hot churro from a street vender after Spider Man had helped her carry her groceries five blocks home.

Being Spider Man and figuring out his powers had been hard enough when May was still alive, between school, homework and trying to find any time at all to spend with May between her shifts at the hospital.  Now, living on the streets, freezing cold and always hungry, it felt downright impossible.  Peter kept with it anyway, because it was the only thing he had going for him.  As just Peter he was scared constantly of being mugged like uncle Ben had been, or of child protective services finding him and sending him back to the same foster home he’d run away from, or to an even worse one.

When he put on the spider suit however, something in him changed.  Where Peter had been weak before his powers, Spider Man was strong.  Where Peter had been picked on and bullied in school, Spider Man was respected, maybe not by everyone, but by enough people that he felt safe walking down the street.  Peter Parker had never accomplished anything a day in his life, but Spider Man helped people on a daily basis.  While Peter was hoping that he’d be able to figure things out at some point and hopefully return to school, because he really wanted to go to college for science and engineering, he also hoped to someday join the Avengers as Spider Man.  It might be a pipe dream, but it was his, and as he had little else to hold on to, he was clinging to it with every last scrap of strength and dignity he had left.  It was what got him to wake up and put on the suit every morning even when he felt like just staying down… like letting himself die there in the cold.

One consolation was that Flash had been wrong, as much of a surprise as that had been to Peter.  Peter had made it almost two months living on the streets.  He wasn’t doing well, not by any sense of the term, but he was alive, and that was all that mattered.

The wind shifted and the sleet started blowing under the overhang, hitting the legs of his spider suit and soaking them.  His shoes were already wet and his feet were cold.  He only had three pairs of socks, and his other two pairs were wet from the previous two days.  He needed someplace warm and dry to lay his clothes out and let them dry off.  For the last week he’d been sleeping behind a Chinese restaurant in an alley because there was a ledge that kept him somewhat protected from the rain and snow, but the sleet that day had probably soaked through the cardboard Peter had been using to block off the wind and to try to hold some of his body heat in during the night.  He needed someplace permanent, at least until the weather warmed up again.

It wasn’t that Peter hadn’t been trying to find a warm place to stay since he’d run away.  In the long hours of lying sleepless and cold on the hard ground, he’d contemplated going to one of a dozen homeless shelters, but you had to give them your name when you checked in to stay for the night.  In the case of unaccompanied minors, there were too many questions asked.  Peter had tried twice on exceptionally cold nights, but both times he’d been scared away by the questions being asked at the front desk.  “How old are you?  Where are your parents?  Where do you go to school?”  It was too much of a risk going to a shelter where he knew CPS would be called.  He didn’t want to go to sleep in a cot and wake up the next morning to police and a CPS worker waiting to take him back to the foster home on 169th.

Twice he’d tried to stay under a bridge, but it was too open and windy, so Peter had finally settled on sleeping in narrow alleyways across the city.  He moved every few days so the police didn’t get called on him, and tried not to go back to the same alley after he’d left it behind.

Deciding that the sky looked like it wasn’t going to let up anytime soon, Spider Man left his spot under the awning and turned his steps towards the East River.  There were some warehouses down there he’d been considering checking out.  If he could find an abandoned one, he might be able to find an open door (or break the lock) and get inside.  It wouldn’t be warm, but it would at least be dry and sheltered from the wind.

It took him over an hour to walk to the industrial area full of warehouses.  He would have liked to have just swung over, but his web fluid was running low, and he didn’t want to risk breaking back into the high school science lab until he had no other choice.  Besides that, he didn’t want to risk swinging around in the icy rain and taking the chance that his webbing might slip off the side of an icy building and wouldn’t hold his weight.

It was dark by the time Peter found a sheltered spot to take off his suit and change back into his regular clothes.  His spider suit was too soaked to continue on in it, clinging to his skin and making his hands and arms feel like ice.

He walked up one street full of warehouses and down another.  All of these looked like they were used regularly.  If he didn’t find a place soon, he was going to have to just break into one of them whether it was being used or not just to stay the night.  He could rise early and leave before anyone showed up to work in the morning.

One warehouse caught his eye because the metal sides were rotting away, but just as he was approaching a door to try the handle, it opened and two workers came out, heading home for the night.  One called back inside to tell someone goodnight, and Peter could hear some sort of machinery going.  This place was out.

Feeling desperate as the rain picked up again and his hands were growing numb, Peter ran from one warehouse to the next, ears perked for sounds inside, trying each door as he passed.  At the end of a street he found another likely prospect and paused for a moment to listen, ear to the door.  He couldn’t hear anyone inside, and hoped that meant he wasn’t going to run into night security or any late night workers.  The windows were boarded up and one had broken glass.

He jiggled the door handle, feeling discouraged when he found it locked.  He really didn’t want to break the law, but after a quick look around to be sure there were no security cameras, he pulled on the handle and twisted hard, using Spider Man’s strength to break the knob.  He pulled the door open just enough to peer inside and make sure it was empty.  With a look around him to the empty street to be sure it was empty as well, he pulled the metal door open the rest of the way and went inside, closing it as quietly as he could.

Squinting into the darkness, Peter brought his hands up to his mouth and breathed into them, trying to warm them up.  They were so cold they hurt.  He guessed that was a good sign, though it didn’t make it a pleasant one.  The warehouse was empty.  There was no furniture, machinery, or things stored in boxes.  It was abandoned, at least for now.

A clanging sound off in the distance caught his attention and his head whipped up, looking for the source.  It sounded like someone had dropped a tool on the ground.  There was a closed door on the far wall.  It must have come from the room on the other side.  Dang.  He had really wanted to curl up in a corner and stay the night.  He couldn’t if there were people around.  What if he just… went and had a look?  It could have been a stray cat knocking things off a shelf, or a work crew cleaning up for the night to go home.  If that was the case he could settle down for the evening, eat the rest of the soggy churro in his bag and try to get some sleep.

Peter crossed the empty space and went to the door, finding it unlocked.  He opened it an inch and peeked through.  It was dark on the other side, but he could tell the small room was full of machinery.  Across this room was another door, this one open just enough to let weak light spill into the storage space.  Across the storage room and to the open door, he heard male voices and the sound of something like a blow torch.  There was another clanging noise, and then the sound of a box of little metal items being knocked over.

“C’mon, do you have to do that Jackson?  I’m trying to get this thermal regulator working and I needed every one of those bolts you scattered on the ground.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, sheesh,” another voice said.  “The way you talk you’d think I’m trying to make your life harder Tinkerer.  I just wanted to test this new gizmo.”

There was a noise, like a piece of equipment had started up, not quite like a vacuum cleaner, but close and the sound of lots of little metal things hitting a metal surface.

“The Electromagnetic Arc,” Tinkerer said.

Peter peered around the door, inching it open a little more.  He couldn’t see them, but he could tell what part of the warehouse they were in.  On the other side of the door was a huge warehouse like the empty one he had broken into, but this one had work lights over workbenches, and tools like bandsaws.

“Nope, definitely not calling it that.  What about supermagnetic charger?”

“Except it doesn’t charge anything and it’s not a super magnet, it’s an electromagnet.”

“Well whatever it is, it picked up all of your-”

A hand came down hard on Peter’s soaked t-shirt and he startled, letting out a little shout of surprise, spinning around in the dark room and breathing hard.  He found himself staring up at a man with a scraggly beard and long hair who looked pissed.

“What are you doing here?  Who are you?” the man shouted.

Peter tried to duck around him and make a run for it, but the storage room was cramped and full of stuff that would make it too hard for him to get out without falling and breaking a leg.  The man stepped in front of him and grabbed his upper arm hard, and Peter froze stiff.  He didn’t have the suit on.  He didn’t have his web slingers on.  He wasn’t Spider Man, just Peter.  The same Peter that had been beaten up in the foster home by the older boys that lived there.  The same Peter that had been beaten up by the man that was supposed to take care of them.

“Chief!  Hey chief!” the man yelled, grip still tight on Peter’s arm.  “Better get in here!  We got ourselves a spy!”

“I’m not, I’m not, I’m sorry, please,” Peter rambled, voice and body shaking.  He was still freezing, but he was also terrified.  If they held him here and called the police, he was done for.

The door he’d been peering around just a few moments before swung open, causing Peter to jump.  He wanted to stumble back but the man with a scraggly beard still had a tight grip on him.  Peter was sure his arm would be bruised.

The light in the storage room flipped on and Peter found himself face to face with an angry looking man with short hair.  The other two men he’d been eavesdropping on hurried up behind him to see what was going on.

“Chief.  I found him standing here in the dark and peering around the door.”

Peter shook his head, mouth open.  He had been sneaking around and couldn’t deny it.  He had no idea what to say.

The new man, Chief, glared at Peter as he looked him up and down, but as Peter stood there, helpless and struggling to find anything to say at all to escape this situation, the guy’s face softened a little.

“Let him go Randy.  I doubt he’s from Damage Control.”

The man let go of Peter’s arm and he immediately reached up to the aching spot and held it, backing away half a step, though when his feet hit a box of metal parts, which made a loud noise, he stilled and stared down at his feet.  He wished he had decided to break into the boarded up store he’d spent the evening outside of instead of coming down here.

“Who are you?” Chief asked.  “What’s your name?”

Peter didn’t answer, and he missed the look the man gave to the other men around them.

“What are you doing here in my warehouse?” Chief tried again.

Someone reached forward and grabbed the backpack off of his back and Peter shouted out.  His spider suit and the few pairs of clothing he had were in there, along with the last five dollars he had.  He’d found a five dollar bill the day before and had been saving it for food.

“Wait!  That’s all-” he paused and remembered where he was and that he was surrounded by large angry men and looked down at his feet again, trying to shrink into himself so much that he could just disappear entirely.  If only that were one of his newfound powers…

“That’s all what?” Chief asked.

“It’s all I have,” Peter mumbled quietly.  If only he’d been bitten by a radioactive gecko that had the power to camouflage itself.

Chief reached out his hand for the bag and the other man, Randy, handed it to him.

“You break into my warehouse and snoop around, but you don’t want me to snoop through your things?” Chief asked.

“I’m sorry,” Peter mumbled again.  “I was just looking for a warm place.”

“Runaway,” one of other men said with a laugh.  Peter looked up and found him grinning as he chewed a piece of gum, or maybe chewing tobacco.  Peter didn’t like the look he was being given.  “What should we do with him chief?”

Chief sighed heavily, looking Peter over closely again.  He looked down at the sopping wet bag, heavy with Peter’s wet spider suit, and then handed it back to him.  “Go on, give us some space,” he said, waving the other guys away.  One of them grumbled, but they left, going back out into the well lit warehouse workspace, leaving the two of them alone.

“It’s still raining out there.  You wanna take your bag and leave?” Chief asked.  Peter clutched his dirty backpack close to his chest and didn’t answer.  “Look, you’re the one that broke into my warehouse.  That means you answer my questions or I call the cops.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said.

“At least that’s something,” Chief gruffed.  “What’s your name?”

“Peter.”

“Pete,” he said.  “Anyone ever call you Pedro?”  Peter shook his head.  “How’d you get in here Pete?”

He motioned lamely behind him to the other portion of the warehouse that was empty and dark.  “The door was broken,” he lied.  Well technically he supposed it was broken now that he’d broken the lock open.

“You got a blanket or anything?”

Peter shook his head.

“You got anywhere else to go?”

He gripped his bag tighter to himself and shook his head again.

“How old are you?  Thirteen?”

“Fourteen,” Peter said.  Aunt May had thrown him a little party at the end of August right before school had started.  It was just the two of them, but they had watched Star Wars and eaten Thai Food, and she had bought a cake.  It was one of the last good memories he had of her.

“Don’t start that,” Chief said, and Peter looked up, wondering what he was talking about.  “Wipe your face.  Can’t live on the street if you’re gonna cry.”  He motioned to Peter’s face and Peter hastily wiped his eyes on his sleeve.  “Geez kid, where the hell are you supposed to be right now?  Who’s missing you?”

“No one, I swear,” Peter said.  “No one, it’s just me.”

“This isn’t a hostel kid.  You can’t stay here past tonight, got it?  There are shelters for this sort of thing… Child Protective Services…”

“NO!”  Peter shouted, then he remembered himself and clamped his mouth shut again.

Chief sighed and said, “I’m running a business here.  You stay here tonight, you’re making a promise that you’re gonna keep anything you see or hear to yourself, got it?  Anything you see in here is none of your business, period.”

“I won’t Mr. Chief sir, I won’t say anything.  I can just go back into that other empty warehouse and sleep.  I just wanted to get out of the freezing rain.”

Chief shook his head.  “It’s too cold in there.  Come on.”  He opened the door to the warehouse workspace again and motioned for Peter to follow him out of the storage room.  The men he’d encountered earlier were welding two pieces of metal together, sparks flying up into the air and onto the concrete floor.

“Eyes down, what did I just say to you?” Chief said, and Peter immediately dropped his eyes to the floor.

“Yes sir Mr. Chief.”

The man sighed again and Peter followed him until he came to a set of metal stairs and followed him up into a little office just big enough for a desk with an old computer, a desk chair, a filing cabinet with a coffee pot on top, and a two seat couch that was covered in grease and ripped along one arm.

“You can sleep there,” Chief said, pointing to the couch.  “And stop with that Mr. Chief stuff.  My name is Adrian Toomes, or Chief, but not Mr, got it?”

“Yes sir Mr- I mean Chief.”

“Go on, sit down.  You have any dry clothes to change into?”  Peter shook his head as he sat gingerly on the couch, like he might break it, and Chief said, “I’ll kick the heater up.  Maybe lay some of your clothes out to dry.”

He noticed Peter eying a jar of peanuts on his desk and pushed it towards him.  “Take ‘em.”

“I can’t,” Peter said.  “I’m allergic.”

Chief opened a drawer in his desk and rummaged around for a minute, coming up with a stick of beef jerky, which he tossed to Peter.  Peter caught it, though he fumbled and almost dropped it since his hands were still cold.

“Not an athlete huh?” Chief asked.

“Just cold.”

Peter was so hungry he ripped the little stick of beef jerky open with his teeth and forgot to say thank you as he started eating it.  He was aware that the man was watching him, but he didn’t know what to do or say.

“The crew will be working all night, so you’d better stay in here, got it?  I’m going home, but I’ll lock the door to the office so you can sleep.  You can still get out from the inside, but I’m the only one with the key who can get in.”

Peter looked up from the jerky, surprised.  That was thoughtful of him.  He had been worried about staying here now that he’d been invited to do so and had thought about leaving as soon as he was left alone.  If he was going to be behind a locked door however… it made a bigger difference than Mr. Toomes could know.

“You mean- I can really stay the night?  You’re not calling CPS?”

“I said you could and you can.  I’m a man of my word Pete.  You just keep your head down and your nose out of my business while you’re here tonight and you and I will be just fine.  If you don’t, and you disrespect me by not following the rules, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Peter took another bite of the jerky and wondered if that meant he was going to get cement shoes and go for a swim in the river.  He really didn’t want to go for a swim.

“I’ll stay here,” he promised quietly.

“Good.”  The man looked at his watch and stood up.  He gave another look to Peter, sitting on the couch, hair and clothes wet and a mess, and then said, “I’ll be back early Pedro.  If you’re not here when I get back, I’ll understand.”  Then he opened the door to his office, stepped out and locked it, and was gone.  There was a window looking down onto the warehouse workspace with the blinds lowered, and Peter stood up quickly and pulled a blind up just enough to peek out.  Mr. Toomes had gone down the metal stairs and to one of the workstations.  He said something to one of the men who had been welding, but Peter couldn’t hear what over the machinery.  Then he crossed the warehouse and was gone out a door and onto the street.

Peter went to the door and tested the doorknob.  The door opened and he reached around the other side and tested the doorknob from the outside, and found that it was still locked and wouldn’t turn, just like Mr. Toomes had said.  He closed the door again and went back to the couch and unzipped his bag.  The heater had kicked on and hot air was blowing out of the ceiling of the little office.  He pulled out everything but his spider suit and laid two wet t-shirts, a wet pair of jeans, a wet pair of sweatpants, and wet socks on the floor around the couch.  He doubted they would dry by morning, but if he could get them even half dry it was better than nothing.  He found the half eaten soggy churro in the bag and stared at it for a full minute before stuffing it into his mouth, grimacing at the mushy mess as he swallowed it whole.  It was disgusting, but it was all he had and he didn’t know if he’d get lucky and get any food from Mr. Toomes or another old lady the next day.  He couldn’t afford to waste a single bite of food, even if it was soggy.

Glancing up at the clock on the wall, Peter laid down on the little couch and curled into a ball, trying to get warm.  As he lay there, he stared at the back of the office door and found a two year old calendar there with curled edges and a picture of a lake.  A calendar, not a Star Wars poster.  He missed his room, and aunt May, and the safety of their apartment in Queens.  He rolled over, back to the door so he didn’t have to look at it anymore and closed his eyes.  It wasn’t home, but for the first time since May had died, it was a safe place to sleep.  The heater ran all night, and despite the sounds of falling metal tools, welding and saws going down below him in the warehouse, Peter slept through the night.

* * *

“You better get up Pedro, can’t sleep all day.”

Peter stretched but found that he couldn’t push his legs out as far as he’d like to because the couch he was on was short.  He was confused for a moment, because he was warm, and wondered why his bed was so short.  His spider powers hadn’t given him a growth spurt had they?  Aunt May would fret if he grew out of the new clothes she’d just bought him for school.

“Hey, you awake yet Pedro?”

His eyes snapped open and he jumped.  He wasn’t at home and it wasn’t aunt May in his room coming to wake him up for school.  He shot up into a sitting position and his eyes found Mr. Toomes, who looked startled and then perturbed.

“Calm down there Pedro, you’re still safe.  It’s noon though.  You can’t sleep all day.  I’ve got calls to make.  Private calls.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Toomes, I didn’t mean to.  I know you wanted me gone as early as I could be.”

“I didn’t say that.”  He sat down behind his desk and reached into a plastic bag Peter hadn’t realized he had.  As soon as he untied it the smell of hot food assaulted Peter and made his stomach grumble.

“Here, eat this.”  Peter wasn’t certain at first that Mr. Toomes was talking to him despite that he was holding out a hot sandwich wrapped in paper towards him.  “You hear me?  Take it.”

“But- it’s your lunch.”

“No it’s not.  I ate on the way over.  I bought this for you.”

Peter didn’t wait to be told again and snatched the sandwich, unwrapping it hastily.  Aunt May would chastise him for showing such poor manners, but he was too hungry to stop and say thank you first.  Maybe Mr. Toomes expected him to pay him back.  If he did, Peter would have to part with his five dollar bill, but he would if he had to.  He still didn’t know who he was dealing with, and didn’t want to owe money to a man that might make him take an involuntary swim in the East River.

“How much do I owe you?” Peter asked, pausing for just a moment between bites to ask the question, before hurrying through the rest of the sandwich.  It was so much food and his stomach was already hurting from hurrying through it.  There were three kinds of deli meat, lettuce, mustard, tomatoes, and bell peppers.  He was in heaven.

“You got money to pay me back Pedro?”

He shook his head.  “Just five dollars.”

The man frowned and then reached back into the bag.  “Here, probably won’t fit because you’re so skinny, but it’s all I could find so fast.”  He threw a gray sweatshirt without a hood at Peter along with a pair of black sweatpants.

“I can-” Peter paused, “I can borrow these?”

“You can have ‘em.”  Mr. Toomes looked over the edge of his desk to the floor where Peter’s meager wardrobe was still drying.  “Looks like you need ‘em.  It’s just some old gym clothes.”

Peter put the big sweat pants on over his threadbare sweats, and then pulled on the baggy gray sweatshirt.  They were amazing and would do wonders to keep him warm so long as he could stay dry.

“Sleep ok?” Mr. Toomes asked, not looking up from the papers he was now shuffling through on his desk.

Peter looked up.  “Yeah, it was warm.”

“How long you been out on the street?”

Peter shrugged and Mr. Toomes looked up and said, “Thought we had an understanding Pete.  You broke into my warehouse, you answer all my questions.”

“Since the start of November,” he said.

“You work?”

“No sir.”  He shook his head.

“What do you do all day then?”

“I spend a lot of time at the library reading.”  It was a half truth.  He did spend a lot of time at the library because it was warm, and because he needed to study to keep up with his classmates, but he spent a lot of time out as Spider Man too.  He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but at some point he had to figure out how to get himself back into Midtown High.  It wouldn’t be this year, and maybe not next either, but he hoped that by his junior year he’d have things figured out enough to get himself back into school.  He’d be two years behind, but if he could study hard enough at the library, he could test back into the year he should be in.

“Reading what?”

“Science, tech, that sort of thing.  I have to keep up with my studies so I can get back into school.”

“You like school huh?”

“I was going to a really good one.”

“Yeah?  Which one?”

Peter clamped his mouth closed as he began to pick up his dirty clothes off the floor and stuff them back into his bag on top of his wet spider suit.  The less Mr. Toomes knew, the better.  Peter didn’t want him to have enough information to figure out who he was and to give to CPS.

“Look, Pedro-”  Peter looked up, still stuffing clothes into his bag.  “If you’re gonna go back out onto the street, you gotta have a plan.”  His eyes wandered up to Peter’s face where there was a bruise.  He’d gotten into it with a car thief a couple nights before and taken an elbow to the face.

“I’ll be ok Mr. Toomes.”

“Yeah,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced.  “Forecast is calling for three inches of snow tonight.  Where are you going to sleep?”

Peter shrugged.  At least it wasn’t going to be freezing rain blowing in sideways on him.  If he had a choice he would stay here another night, but Mr. Toomes was asking a lot of questions.  The more he learned the more he would want to call the police to report him.  It was illegal to harbor a runaway.

“And what are you gonna eat for the rest of the day?”

“Yesterday a lady bought me a churro.”

Mr. Toomes snorted and then gave Peter an uncomfortable look and said, “Your clothes are dirty.  You could use a shower.  What are you gonna do to take care of that?”

“I got enough of a shower last night in the rain.”  He’d said it trying to be funny, but Mr. Toomes didn’t laugh.

“I was thinking I could use a little help around the shop,” he said as Peter sat to pull his still wet shoes on.  “Sweeping up, picking up after the guys.  What do you think?”

“Like a job?”

“Sure.  Ten bucks to sweep the shop, another five to pick up all the trash those slobs leave around.  That’s fifteen dollars a day… enough for you to get a meal and go to the laundromat.”

It was a tempting offer.  “Could I maybe just, do that today?”

Mr. Toomes nodded.  “There are rules, remember?  You remember what I said last night?”

“Stay out of your business or I’m going swimming.”

“Swimming?”

“I figured I’d get cement shoes and be dumped in the river.”

Mr. Toomes just stared at him for long moments, then he snorted and said, “Geez Pedro, where the hell did you come from?  A mob boss isn’t gonna come knocking on my door looking for his kid is he?”

Peter gave a nervous laugh.

“Just don’t ask questions and don’t touch anything on the floor.  If one of the other guys tells you to stay away from something, you do it.  Stay away from anyone welding or using heavy machinery.  Don’t startle any of the guys using the tools.  If someone looses fingers or you get crushed under a truck or something I’m gonna be pissed.”

“Yes sir.”

“I told you, stop with the sir.  The crew calls me chief.  C’mon, I’ll take you down and show you where the broom is.”

“Ok Mr. Toomes.”

He didn’t acknowledge Peter or the name he’d called him.  He opened the door to the office and led Peter down the rusting metal stairs and into the shop.  Daylight was coming in through a couple of high windows now and under a rollup door that led out to the street that was only raised a foot.

“Pete here’s gonna sweep up and throw away trash.  He knows the rules.  Tinkerer, you’re in charge of him while he’s on the floor.”  He pointed to a short man with brown hair and blue eyes.  He had a green beanie on and a weird looking pair of glasses that looked like they would help magnify small mechanical parts.  Currently they were up on his forehead.  “That’s Tinkerer Pete.  Do what he says.”

“What about me boss?” the shifty looking guy from the night before that had creeped Peter out asked.

“Just get back to work Jackson,” he said.  “I gotta make a business call.”  He slapped Peter on the back, startling him and making him stiffen.  Mr. Tooms gave a frown at that and then turned to go back up the stairs to his office.  Peter wondered if he was going up there to call the police, but figured he could make a break for it if he heard the police roll up.  It also struck him that Mr. Toomes could have called the police while Peter had still been sleeping.

“Peter, right?” Tinkerer said, and Peter turned to him and gave a nod.  “Broom’s over there against the wall.  Sweep everything into a pile and then try to sort out any knuts, bolts, or screws that look like they can be used again.  Any tools you find on the floor, bring ‘em to me.  Then you can throw whatever’s left in the pile into the trash.”  He waved his hand around the workbenches and said, “You can throw away any food trash you find, but don’t touch anything else.”

“Yes sir.”

Tinkerer laughed and said, “Hear that guys?  He called me sir.  It’s nice to be respected.”

“Maybe do something that deserves respect,” Jackson said with a snort.

“Yeah yeah, all right, you know I’m the one who keeps this place running right?  I’d like to see you come up with new designs without me.”

Peter moved off to get the big push broom Tinkerer had indicated and got to work sweeping up around the workbenches, trying to stay out of the way of the men moving heavy boxes of metal scraps and assembling various machines.  Peter had no idea what they were making, but it looked complicated and he remembered what Mr. Toomes had told him about minding his own business.  He tried to listen for Mr. Toomes’ voice to see who he was talking to on the phone, but he couldn’t discern his voice over all the noise in the workshop.

After he swept around the workbenches, Peter moved out to the edges of the warehouse and swept up dirt and dust that looked like it hadn’t been swept in weeks.  It was a full hour before he was done with sweeping and then picking up empty burger wrappers, french fry containers, chip bags and old pizza boxes.

“What do you think Tinkerer?” came Mr. Toomes’ voice, and Peter’s ears perked up.  “Look like we can keep him on?”

“He did good chief.  He stayed out of the way.”

Mr. Toomes came up to Peter and reached into his pocket.  He pulled out a ten dollar bill and a five and handed them to Peter.  “If Tinkerer says you did good, then it looks like I owe you some money.”

“Are you sure Mr. Toomes?” Peter asked, taking the money from him.  It was more than he’d had in months.  May had never been able to give him an allowance, but she used to give him five dollars a day to spend on snacks after school.  Sometimes he spent it and sometimes he had saved it to buy other things he wanted.  Once he had saved up and bought a handheld game system.  $15 was a lot to him now though.  He’d be able to do his laundry at a laundromat for the first time since he’d run away in November.

“What’re you gonna spend it on?” Mr. Toomes asked.

“Laundry,” Peter said, tucking it in his pocket.

“Good man.”

Peter put the push broom back where he’d found it and turned to ask if he could retrieve his bag from Mr. Toomes office so he could leave, but found Mr. Toomes right behind him, and startled.

“Whoa, settle there Pedro.  I wanna talk to you about somethin’.”  It looked like it might be break time for some of the guys in the workshop as they were no longer working.  They were listening, Peter could tell, but they were trying to look like they weren’t.

“Ok, sir.”  He swallowed.  He wondered if Mr. Toomes wanted the $15 right back for letting him stay the night, or for the sandwich he’d given him when he woke up.  Maybe he wanted money for the clothes too and Peter would have to give him the $15 and also the $5 in his bag.

“I don’t know what your deal is, but I’m assuming you don’t wanna get caught by the police.”

Peter just stared at him and didn’t say anything.  His mouth had gone suddenly dry.

“Not getting caught means keeping your head down and going unnoticed.  You go out looking like this… hair a mess, face dirty, clothes dirty, and it’s pretty obvious to others that you’re homeless.  You look young and it’ll lead others to ask questions.”

Peter gave a nod, jaw still tense.  He already knew this.  It was one of the reasons why he spent all day in his spider suit and didn’t change out of it until after dark when he was ready to settle down for the night.  Sometimes he slept in his spider suit if he was sleeping in a public place.  He felt like people wouldn’t mess with Spider Man and it was a good way to keep his identity hidden.

“Washing your clothes is a good start.  You need to shower too, and a haircut.”

“I don’t have money for a haircut Mr. Toomes,” Peter said.

“I was thinkin’ Tinkerer or Herman could give you a quick cut.  Wouldn’t be pretty or anything, they’d just shave it short.  Herman shaves his hair short anyway.”  He motioned to a man at one of the workbenches with short hair.

“Would that-” Peter paused.  “I don’t wanna be any trouble.”

Mr. Toomes raised his hand up to stop him.  “If you’re gonna come back and sweep up again tomorrow, you need to not look like a homeless kid coming in here, understand?  It’s as much for me as it is for you.  I don’t need the cops coming in here knocking on the door asking about you.”

“Oh,” Peter hedged, playing with his fingers.  “All right.”

“There’s a shower over there in the corner,” he said.  “It’s there for emergencies… because we work with chemicals and other dangerous things in here.  You can use it though, tonight after everyone leaves if you want.”

“After everyone leaves?”

“You might as well stay tonight too.  A big storm rolled in this morning and it’s been snowing all day.  That’ll give you a chance to shower tonight and then sweep up again tomorrow before you head out to do laundry.”

“Is that- ok?”

“It’s fine.  The guys are leaving at three.  They’re normally here pretty late but it’s Christmas.”

Peter looked up at him, brows raised in surprise.  “It is?”  He knew it had been getting close because he’d seen the Christmas lights and other decorations up in apartment windows and on businesses.  He didn’t have a phone or a watch anymore though, so it was hard to keep track of the days.  Sometimes he stopped at a newsstand to look at the date on a paper, but it had been more than a week since he’d last done that.

Mr. Toomes looked at his watch and said, “Another hour and they’ll be gone.  Why don’t you go back up to the office and sit tight until everybody’s gone.  Go on, it’s unlocked.”

Peter moved past him, feeling awkward, and crossed the shop to the metal stairs.  The guys were talking behind him again.  One of them had asked Mr. Toomes how long Peter was staying, but he didn’t want to slow his pace so much that it was obvious he was eavesdropping, so he continued into the office and shut the door.  His bag was where he’d left it in the corner near the little couch.

He couldn’t deny it would be nice to stay another night, especially if the snow was deep outside.  The chance at a shower sounded good too.  Mr. Toomes was right, he would draw less attention if he was cleaned up.  Peter stared at the old calendar on the back of the office door again and let himself wonder that Christmas had come and he hadn’t even known it.  That meant that last night had been Christmas Eve.  It explained why Mr. Toomes had let him stay the night and why he was willing to let him stay the night again tonight.  A lot of people were nicer around Christmas time… nicer than they might have otherwise been.  If Peter had shown up a week before, Mr. Toomes probably would have called the police and washed his hands of him.

He startled a minute later when the office door opened and the man Mr. Toomes had indicated earlier stuck his head in.

“Hey, if you want a haircut you gotta come downstairs.  Chief won’t want hair all over his office floor.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a bother,” Peter said, standing up to follow him out of the office.

“I’m getting paid no matter what I’m doing while I’m here.  Chief is paying us double for being here on Christmas, even though it’s just for a few hours.”

Peter followed him down the stairs and to the corner by the shower that had been set up in the corner of the warehouse.  It was little more than a faucet high up, not an actual shower head.  Herman, that was his name, wasn’t it? led him to a little table not far from the shower and picked up an electric razor that ran on batteries.

“How short you want it kid?”

Peter looked up at Herman’s hair.  It was so short there was almost nothing there.  He didn’t want it that short, but he also needed it not to be down past his ears.

“Uh, could I keep a couple inches?”

“Yeah, I’ve got an attachment for that, hold on.”  He dug around in a little black bag full of attachments and pulled one out and put it on the razor.  “Just hold still.  It won’t cut you, just your hair.”

Peter stood as still as he could and closed his eyes as he heard the buzz of the razor coming to life.  A moment later and locks of hair began falling in front of his face as his dirty hair was sheared off.

“This’ll be easier to keep clean,” Herman said.  “It won’t tangle as much either.  When was the last time you cut this?”

“September.”

“If you’re not gonna wash or brush it you should have this done every couple weeks.”

Peter closed his mouth.  If he had a choice he’d keep it cut, washed and brushed.  He was having a hard enough time just finding a place to sleep every night and enough food to eat though.  He hadn’t been worried about his hair or his clothes, and wouldn’t be now if Mr. Toomes hadn’t said something about it.

They were done in just a few minutes and Herman said, “Done.  Not too bad kid.  You might clean up nice after a shower.  There’s no soap or anything, but you can probably use some hand soap from the bathroom.”  He pointed to a door Peter hadn’t been through yet to let him know where it was.

“Thanks,” he said.

“No problem.”

Herman put the razor away in the black bag and then left the building, probably to go home or take the razor back to his car, Peter wasn’t sure.

Twenty minutes later, the guys started to shut their equipment down and headed for the door as well.  Peter thought perhaps Mr. Toomes had already left, but was surprised when he called his name from the office.  He went back up the stairs to the office and found a bag from McDonalds that smelled amazing.

“I’m eating at home, but I went out and got this for you.”

“I can pay you back.”

Mr. Toomes laughed.  “Yeah, I know you can now.  I don’t want your money.  Spend it at the laundromat.  You did a good job cleaning up the shop today, you deserve it.”

“Thanks.  Thank you.  For the food I mean… and the clothes.  And the haircut.”

“You talk a lot don’t you?” Mr. Toomes asked, and Peter snapped his mouth shut again.  He rambled when he was nervous.  Aunt May said it was ‘endearing’ and Ned hadn’t seemed to mind, but sometimes others complained about it.

“Eat your dinner.”

Peter took the bag and sat on the couch and was happy to find a large fry and a Big Mac inside the bag.  He went for the salty fries first.  It had been a long time since he’d had food this good.  Aunt May didn’t like him to eat fatty foods like this, but he had lost a lot of weight since November and was looking forward to eating whatever he could get.

“So where did you go to school at?” Mr. Toomes asked again.  Peter didn’t want to answer him, but felt bad not telling him after all he’d done for him in the last day.

“Midtown.”

“Midtown School Of Science And Technology?”  he sounded surprised.

With how Peter looked, it didn’t surprise him.  With the mess he’d gotten himself into, no one thought Peter was smart enough to get into Midtown.  Most people that passed him when he wasn’t wearing his spider suit thought he was a hoodlum or criminal.  “I’m smart,” he said, wishing it didn’t sound like he was bragging.  “For a couple months I was top of my class.”

“My daughter goes to Midtown.”

“Really?” Peter asked.  “I didn’t get to know too many people while I was there.  I was only there for a couple months.”

“Do you know Liz?”

“She’s a junior,” Peter said.  “She runs academic decathlon.”

“That’s right,” Mr. Toomes said.  He looked surprised again.

“I was on the team until I had to leave.”

“Why was that?  Why did you have to leave?”

Peter clamped his mouth shut again, and was glad when Mr. Toomes didn’t ask any more questions and let him finish his burger and fries.  It was a lot to eat, but Peter didn’t want to waste any of it.  As soon as he was done, Mr. Toomes stood up and said, “I’ll leave the office door unlocked so you can shower and get back inside.  You can lock it from the inside once you’re back in here.  I’m gonna lock up the warehouse though.  Guys will be back in the morning, but I’ve got to go out of town.  They know you’re supposed to sweep up again tomorrow, and Tinkerer has the money to pay you.”

“Mr. Toomes… are you sure this is ok?  I don’t want you to get in trouble for having me here.”

He laughed.  “You’re the least of my troubles Pedro.  Remember to take a shower tonight.  Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas Mr. Toomes.”

“You better start calling me chief.”

“Chief.”

“There you go.  See you Pete.”

He left, and Peter watched him from the office window as he walked out of the warehouse and shut the door behind him.  After he was gone Peter went down to check to see if he’d really locked the warehouse door.  He had.  He had also locked the storage room door, so Peter knew no one was coming in from the back side of the warehouse on the other side of the storage room like Peter had.  He was alone.  He inspected the shower for a minute, and then looked around for cameras, but couldn’t see any.  He went into the bathroom and brought out the little pump of hand soap and set to taking the fastest shower he could, just in case Mr. Toomes or one of the guys came back in.  He washed his hair and scalp twice, and scrubbed his arms and hands, trying to get the grime from the past weeks off.  The water was cold, and there was no towel, but he was glad to be clean and back into the clothes Mr. Toomes had given him that morning.  The hand soap made his hair feel coarse and wiry as opposed to soft, but it was a thousand times better than having it feel greasy and long and tangled.

Stomach full, clean, and warm, Peter went back up to the office and shut and locked the office door.  As he lay on the couch, staring at the calendar yet again, and rolling over because he couldn’t stand to look at it anymore… couldn’t stand that he wasn’t in his own room, in his own apartment with aunt May, he squeezed his eyes shut.  “Merry Christmas Peter,” he told himself, and then, “Merry Christmas aunt May.”

* * *

Peter didn’t sleep until noon this time.  He woke up to the sound of equipment starting up, and looked up at the clock on the wall to see it was 7:30.  He looked out the office window down at the shop floor and spotted Tinkerer and Herman working.

He checked his ratty backpack to be sure he had all of his clothes, and then grabbed it and left the office.

“Rise and shine kid,” Herman said to acknowledge his presence.  Tinkerer looked over too.

“Chief said you’re sweeping again today.”

“Yes sir.”

“I know chief said for you to call him chief.  To be honest, it kinda makes me nervous for you to call me sir.  You should call me Tinkerer, or Phineas.”

“Ok,” Peter hedged.  He moved for the broom and got to work sweeping.  The floor was still pretty clean from the day before, but he swept the entire warehouse anyway.  There were no food wrappers around to throw away, so it only took him forty minutes to finish this time.  When he was done, Tinkerer was ready with fifteen dollars for him.

“Here ya go.  You heading out to do laundry?”

“Yeah,” Peter said.  “Erm… thanks.  I mean, could you tell Mr. Toomes thanks for letting me stay over Christmas?”

“Tell him yourself when you come back.  He’ll be back tomorrow.”

Peter frowned and gripped the shoulder strap of his bag tight.  Tinkerer made it sound like he had permission to stay longer.

“Chief wants to be sure you washed your clothes and showered,” Herman said.  “He wanted us to tell you to come back and stay the night again.”

“Are you sure?”

Herman laughed.  “Pretty sure.  It’s your choice, but that’s what he said.  Tinkerer and I will be here til’ five tonight, then Jackson and Randy and a couple of the other guys will be here from five to eleven.  Just be sure to be back before eleven if you want to be let in.”

“Ok, thank you.”

Peter walked to the door and opened it, glad they weren’t trying to stop him or keep him there.  He still feared one of them would call the police on him, and couldn’t believe his luck that they hadn’t yet.

It was cold out, but the oversized gray sweatshirt from Mr. Toomes worked to keep some of the wind off of him.  He walked down the street and turned left.  There was a sandwich shop, a few more warehouses, a little store, and then a few apartment blocks.  It took him an hour of wandering to find a laundromat, but he’d kept track of the streets so he knew how to find his way back to the warehouse.  He still wasn’t sure if he was going back or not, but just in case he was, he wanted to remember how to get there.

Because he only had a few things to wash, it only cost Peter three dollars including a small packet of laundry detergent to wash and dry his clothes.  He made sure his spider suit got washed with his other clothes as well.  It was important that Spider Man didn’t look like a bum too.  He couldn’t believe he still had thirty two dollars left, when days ago he only had five.

If it wasn’t for the fact that he was still completely alone, a runaway, and had few prospects, Peter would have marveled at how a shower, a haircut and clean clothes could make him feel like a new person.  If only he could be a new person… if he could be like Ned, or Flash, or MJ… just a regular kid worrying about taking a Spanish test or studying for Algebra (or pre-calculus in Peter’s case).

He knew he needed to save his money, because even if he was allowed to stay one more night and sweep one more time, he’d still find himself back on the street and needing food.  He really wanted to buy some of the things he needed though.  He was desperate for new socks, new shoes, gloves, a cap, and a thick winter coat.  $32 couldn’t do that for him, but he could maybe buy gloves and another pair of socks.  Peter turned down another street and found a thrift store a few blocks down.  After twenty minutes of browsing, and $10, he came out with two new pairs of socks and a pair of thin red fabric gloves.  He’d save the other $22 for food.

Peter walked to the Brooklyn Heights Branch of the Brooklyn Library and spent a couple hours browsing for books.  He had no interest in reading history or studying Spanish, but those were classes he had been taking before he’d run away, and he knew he needed to know the information if he was ever going to test back in, so he checked out a basic Spanish book, and an American history book.  He also checked out two books on nanotechnology and one on remote robotics dealing primarily with drones.  This was the stuff he really wanted to read about.  He would force himself to get through the history book before he dug into the science and engineering books.  It was how he had been motivating himself to keep up with the other subjects he had to learn for school.

On cold days like this Peter might choose to sit in the library and read all day because it was warm, but now that his spider suit was clean, he really wanted to put it on and go out into the city.  He had enough web fluid left for a couple days.  If he used too much he’d have to go back to Midtown High and break into the Chemistry lab again.  He’d been back twice to make more web fluid since running away.  He really needed to make as much as he could and then find a place to stash it.  Maybe he could pay for a public locker somewhere now that he had a few dollars.  Then he wouldn’t have to go back again.  He hated going back to Midtown because he didn’t want to get caught breaking and entering, but also because walking down the halls he knew Ned had been in earlier in the day made Peter feel angry, sad, and lonely.

He changed into his spider suit in the bathroom of the library, and when he was sure no one was looking, exited with his bag and then webbed himself through the city to the other side of Brooklyn and then out into Queens.  It had been more than a week since he’d patrolled in Queens and he missed it.

He stopped on a roof across from Ned’s apartment first.  It looked dark and empty.  Ned was probably visiting family somewhere for the holidays.  Next he went by the apartment he had shared with aunt May.  A new family had moved in and a little girl had his old room now.  The day that they had moved in was the day Peter had headed for Brooklyn and decided not to come back for a while.  He missed Queens though.  He’d spent eleven years of his life there, first in a little duplex and then later in the apartment after Ben had died.

It made him even more homesick to be back now.  His old room had a string of colorful Christmas lights in the window, and there was a childish drawing taped to the window as well.  He squinted, trying to see what it was from across the street, but he couldn’t make it out other than that it was red.  Probably Santa Claus, he thought.  Santa had skipped him this year…  Peter knew he wasn’t real, but he couldn’t help but thinking to himself that Santa skipped over homeless kids.

He swung down the street and around the corner to Delmar’s and walked into the little deli.  He hadn’t been by in sometime because he hadn’t had any money to spend.  He hadn’t eaten yet today though and figured spending a dollar or two wouldn’t be so bad.  Before he’d been sent to foster care, Peter and Ned used to come to Delmar’s every day after school for snacks or a sandwich.  Sometimes he’d even stopped by as Spider Man, so he didn’t feel strange doing so now since he couldn’t be seen in his old neighborhood as Peter.

“Hey!  Spider Man!” Mr. Delmar called out when he saw him.

“Hey Mr. Delmar,” Peter said, trying to deepen his voice so he wouldn’t be recognized.  Spending the last few weeks in Brooklyn had gone a long way towards helping him with his fake Brooklyn accent.

“You hear about the string of bank robberies this month?” Mr. Delmar asked as Spider Man went down the aisle with granola bars and grabbed the cheapest one he could find.

“No, what bank robberies?” he asked.

“One in Manhattan, and two in the Bronx.  I think the news said they’re taking ATM machines.  I had the ATM machine in my store taken out.  I can’t afford for them bozos to come in here and rip up my store to take that machine.”

“Huh,” Spider Man said, forgetting his accent.  He cleared his throat and said in a deeper voice, “sounds serious.”

“Lucky they haven’t hit that bank across the street yet.  I’ve been hoping they’ll focus on other banks and forget about this one.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for you,” Spider Man said.

“Yeah?  Well you can have a burrito then, or a sandwich.  Gotta keep up your strength to fight bozos like that.”

“I couldn’t,” Spider Man said, holding up his hand.

“Sure you can.  Gotta do my part to support our friendly neighborhood Spider Man.  You haven’t been around much lately.  I saw on the news a few days ago you were out in Brooklyn.  Tell me which sandwich shop over there is feeding you so I know who I’m competing against.”

“No one,” Spider Man said.  He watched as Delmar started throwing pepperoni and salami onto a piece of bread.  Peter couldn’t believe his luck.  This would be the third really good meal he’d have in two days.  Maybe it was just because it was still so close to Christmas.  By New Years he bet Mr. Delmar wouldn’t be so charitable.

“Here, you take that and watch over my shop, huh?  Keep an eye on that bank.”

“Mr. Delmar,” Spider Man said, “I- you know I can’t be here all the time, right?”

“I know,” he said, pushing the now wrapped sandwich across the counter to him.  “But you being around and being visible even sometimes will make criminals think twice about hitting that bank.  Just drop in once in a while, you know?  Come in here for a soda or somethin’ and hang around a bit.”

“I can do that,” Spider Man said.  His fake Brooklyn accent was completely gone now, but Mr. Delmar didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, Peter hadn’t noticed.

“Thanks for this,” Spider Man said, holding up the sandwich.  He dropped the granola bar he wanted to buy on the counter and paid Mr. Delmar a dollar for it.

“See you around Spider Man,” he called as Peter left.  Peter swung up to the roof of Delmar’s and sat on top where he would be visible.  It was cold up here because it was windy, but he was able to find a spot to sit without snow which wasn’t too wet.  A few people spotted him and called up to him as he ate his sandwich, and he waved to two children who were walking past with their parents.  Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be back in Queens after all.

Spider Man hung around on the roof of Delmar’s deli all afternoon until the sun went down, and then decided that he should visit Midtown.  If Mr. Delmar was expecting him to be more active in Queens, he was going to need more web fluid.  He was determined to make enough tonight to last him until at least February, which meant he needed to get over to Midtown as quickly as possible.

It was seven when he arrived and determined that the building was empty.  School wouldn’t start up again until the second week of January, and there was no night security, leaving the building free for Peter to enter and make his web fluid if he could find a way in.  The last two times he’d found an open window, but he always checked the door into the boy’s locker rooms first.  When he’d been attending school and first trying to figure out the whole Spider Man thing, he’d found that the door to the boy’s locker rooms was frequently left unlocked.  As luck would have it, it was unlocked tonight as well, which meant it had been unlocked since school had gotten out for Christmas break.

He pushed it open cautiously, listening for any sounds inside, and then entered the building.

No lights were on and the halls were empty.  He hurried through them as quickly as he could, trying not to think of Ned or the missed opportunity of attending the most prestigious science and tech school in the state.

In the chemistry room Peter hurried to pull out all of the supplies he needed.  It had taken him weeks to come up with web fluid that would hold his weight, and he had made it to web fluid version five before he had fluid that would allow him to swing through the city.  It wasn’t long after he’d come up with web fluid version five that his world had turned on its head and life as he had known it had changed irrevocably.  He’d quit experimenting after that, and the two times he’d come back to the school to make new web fluid, he’d just stuck with the formula he already knew.  It would be the same tonight.

Making the web fluid was a process.  He took out twelve large 250 ml beakers and set them up in a row, and then poured the first two chemicals into each beaker down the line, letting the chemicals sit for ten minutes to cure before he added the next set of ingredients.  After an hour and the last ingredient, all twelve beakers were full of fizzing, bubbling white fluid that was rising up to the top and threatening to spill over the edges.  He let them sit for a few minutes until the chemical reaction slowed down and stopped, and then went to a storage cupboard in the back and pulled out ten glass phials with caps.  He also pulled his empty web fluid phials out of his bag and then set to filling each of them up.  When he was done, he still had two beakers full of fluid left and looked around for a large jar.  He found one with a lid and poured the fluid into it.  He’d need to find a place to store this, but it would be good to have web fluid ready to refill his phials when they ran out.

It was ten by the time he had cleaned up his mess and returned everything to the supply closet.  He felt bad about taking the glass phials and the chemicals he’d used to make the web fluid, but all he could do was promise that he’d somehow pay the school back when he could.  The $21 he had left in his pocket wasn’t going to cover the cost of the things he’d taken now or the previous two times, or else he’d leave it on the teacher’s desk for when school got back in.

Peter thought briefly of writing a note to Ned and slipping it through the slots in his locker, but decided against it.  He really wanted to talk to his friend, but starting up that friendship again would only hurt Ned… and him.  It would be too hard to stay away after he’d worked so hard to leave his old life behind.  This was for the best, at least until he could figure out how to get his life back together and return to Midtown High.

The temperature outside had dropped when Peter exited the building through the boy’s locker room, and he considered going back inside and sleeping in the locker room for the night.  He was too scared to get caught here though.  If a teacher came, or the boy’s basketball coach came to the coach’s office to get something and caught him sleeping, they’d call the police right away.

He closed the locker room door gently so he didn’t make any noise, and then threw his webs up and swung away, trying to think about where he would store the larger jar of his web fluid for future use.  Getting a public locker was looking more and more like the best option.

Peter headed for the closest subway station and then dropped down to the ground and went down the stairs leading under the street.  There was a row of old banged up storage lockers in an alcove in one wall.  He could tell which ones were in use because they were locked.  He found an open one, made sure he was alone, and put the jar of web fluid inside.  He closed the door and looked at the sticker on the outside of the locker.  $20 a month.  It accepted a card, but he didn’t have one.  He turned and went to the pay station where there was an ancient little computer with dirty faded buttons.  It confirmed that a locker cost $20 a month.  He hated to spend the last of his money on this, but he really needed it, at least for now.  It would only leave him with a dollar, but if he returned to Brooklyn to the warehouse, Mr. Toomes might still be feeling charitable enough in the morning to allow him to sweep and clean up one more time for another $15.

He fed his money into the machine and bought a card, which he then took to the locker his web fluid was in and swiped through the card reader on the edge.  He heard the lock click into place, tested it to be sure it was closed, and then tucked his card into his backpack.  He didn’t know what time it was, but hoped he had enough time to get back to the warehouse before the crew left, or else he’d be left out in the cold for the night looking for another place to sleep.

When he got back into Brooklyn, he changed in an alley and stuffed his spider suit into the bottom of his bag under his clean clothes along with the 24 phials of web fluid and his web shooters, which were starting to rust from constantly being wet.

He walked the last four blocks to the warehouse, and got there just as Randy, the guy who had initially caught him in the warehouse was coming out and locking the door.

“Cutting it tight aren’t you?” he asked, spotting Peter running down the street.  “Jackson figured you weren’t coming back.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, “I don’t have a watch or a phone.”

“Maybe just stay in next time,” Randy advised.

“Yes sir.”

Randy opened the door and said, “Go on, get in there.  Don’t touch anything or Chief will be pissed.  Go to bed or something.”

“Yes sir, I will, thank you for letting me in.”

Randy grunted and shut the door as soon as Peter was inside.  Peter heard it lock and waited a minute until he was certain Randy had walked away and then checked the door to be sure it was secure and headed to the corner of the warehouse where the shower was.  He wasn’t looking forward to standing under cold water after getting in from the freezing temperatures outside, but he wanted to make sure he got a shower before he had to leave again in the morning.  He didn’t know when his next opportunity for a shower would come.

When he was done and into his old clothes, he went up into the office and locked the door.  He ate half of the granola bar he’d bought at Delmar’s and put the other half back in his bag for the morning.  He was hungry after swinging around the city all day and all night, but he knew he’d be starving in the morning and had to keep something back for breakfast.

He turned his back on the door and hugged himself for warmth, even though the heater was on in the office.  The office was the only warm space in the warehouse.  This had been the best three days in months.  He was hungry, but not starving.  He was warm and dry and clean, and he was stocked up on web fluid for some time.  Maybe he would go back to the subway storage locker in Queens and stash some food or dry clothes.  That was if he could sweep up one more time in the morning so he could purchase some extra food.  He wouldn’t have money to pay for the storage locker next month, but for now it would be a good place to keep extra things.  It would be a good home base.  As much as Peter had tried to make Brooklyn his new stomping grounds, Queens was still home.  Queens was May, and Ben, and Ned.

A/N: I have no idea how long term paid storage lockers in public places work 😆 Let’s just say that part of this story is AU to the real world.