A/N) Hello! My name is LuminoSpirit. Thank you for choosing to read my very first Fanfiction story. (Oops, that sounded too Robot-y). I'm not very good at writing yet, so please feel free to point out if something is too long, or you didn't understand something.

Anyways, just to let you know, this story is set after TASM 2 and The Winter soldier. Yes, that is kind of vague, but you'll figure it out. You people are smart like that. Also, I'm going to try to shoot for a minimum of 2000 words for every chapter. Is this too much? Is it too little? (So many questions, you over nervous freak).

I liked the idea of the 'Tom Holland Spiderman', but I also like that Spiderman came before Iron man. (Ironman? Iron-man? How do you spell that?) So I decided to smash them both together and hope for the best.

Chapter One: Investigators

Steve Rogers awoke early in the Stark tower. He stretched widely, and finished his morning routine quickly, (which included dressing, and showering) as he was eager to begin training today. He felt full of energy, and was ready to face off against yet another punching bag. But first, he needed breakfast. He walked briskly down the hall to the lift, which he would use to get to the fiftieth floor.

Steve was on the fourtyseventh floor, which was basically a 'T' shaped hall. Despite Steve having the floor entirely to himself (unlike the others, who shared two floors to themselves) the floor had multiple bedrooms going off to the sides. (Just Tony showing off all of his money yet again).

The fiftieth floor was a mix of a kitchen, and a sitting room. There was also a couple of smaller rooms off to the side, one of which was a toilet, and the other was a small cupboard with brooms and buckets and other things one might find in a janitor's cupboard.

Steve pressed the 'Up' button as he entered the lift, and waited for it to reach the top. A few moments later, the top floor greeted him with a soft 'Ding!' and Steve continued to the adjoining kitchen to get some food.

He had expected it to be empty, however, the rest of his team appeared to already be there, save for Clint and Thor (who was back in Asgard). Natasha and Sam seemed to be in a deep conversation.

Agent Coulson was also there, with a folder. Steve frowned at that. He and the rest of the Avengers had been mightily surprised when Agent Coulson had seemingly returned from the dead. He rarely ever visited them since he had been reintroduced, but perhaps something dangerous was on the horizon.

Natasha, who was sitting on the countertop, waved him over. Steve nodded and sat on the chair next to her, with Bruce on his other side.

"Captain," Acknowledged agent Coulson. Steve returned the greeting, and the agent began to explain why he was here. "Okay, let's just cut to the chase. I assume you are all familiar with New York's 'Spiderman'."

The others nodded, but Steve wasn't so sure. He had seen the name once or twice on a newspaper called 'The Daily Bugle'. He nodded anyway, and decided to ask about it later.

"Well, to put it bluntly, we wantto find him." Coulson paused and pulled out a file from the folder he had been holding, which Tony quickly grabbed and began to look over it. "This is all the information we have on him. Of course, it would be easy to stage a crime to attract him, and then ask him." Here, agent Coulson sighed. "Or so we thought..."

Steve raised an eyebrow, scenarios going through his head. Had they tried that? Perhaps Spiderman had attacked them. Was he dangerous? If so, was that why they were trying to locate him? The Daily Bugle was not such a big fan of spiderman's, he had noticed. Was this why? "...Was anyone hurt?"

Agent Coulson quickly elaborated. "No, no. no one was hurt. He was just... not too keen on joining our cause."

Tony cut in before Coulson could continue. "So why are we lookin' for him then? He obviously doesn't like us." Coulson was about to answer, but Tony was just an endless stream of sarcastic questions. "And what if we catch him? We can't exactly force him to come to the tower. Unless we blackmail him. Can we do that? I could totally-"

"Tony, no." Growled Steve warningly. No one else seemed to be protesting, he noticed. Despite Coulson's rejecting look, Sam's raised eyebrow, and Bruce's disaproving face, none of them seemed to be about to protest, so Steve took the initiative.

"What? It's true! Blackmailing always works-"

"Tony! We can't blackmail people!" He protested exasperatedly. "If we want him on our team, we have to convince him reasonably."

At that moment Clint strode in, with Lucky at his heels. He had seemingly come from the toilet. (Steve briefly wondered if he took Lucky to the loo with him. Probably). "He's right you know." He agreed with Steve. Steve was happy that someone was finally seeing sense. "We don't have anything to blackmail him with." Steve's face physically fell into a disaproving frown. Sam imitated his look.

Coulson stopped the conversation before Steve had the chance to protest more. "Sorry, Stark, but we can't blackmail him. Cap's right, and anyway, we have a better idea."

Tony raised his eyebrows, having abandoned the blackmailing idea already. He had evidently been arguing for the sake of arguing, again. "What kind of an idea?" asked Bruce, who had been silent the entire time.

"Due to some of our observations, we have found that the webs he shoots from his wrists (known as 'webshooters' by the 'fans'), are actually mechanical." Tony paused at this, before a grin erupted onto his face. Steve had no idea what he was smiling about, but if it was Tony it was probably not a good sign.

"Therefore," continued Coulson, before another argument could break out. "We have come to the conclusion that he is exceptionally good at science." Steve looked confused. how would this information help?

Natasha seemed to understand though. "Right." She said. "That means all we have to do is find his age, and then we're well on our way." She smiled gleefully.

'Oh.' He thought, as he put two and two together. Spiderman was good at science- that meant that they just had to find all of the males in New York that were majoring in science. Steve frowned again; that did not really narrow it down much. There was alot of people in New York. Still, it was better than nothing.

"Yeah, yeah." Said Clint, who had already joined Natasha on the countertop, (much to Tony's distaste, Steve noticed). "But where's the idea in that? So we come a little closer in figuring out who he is. How are we going to get him on the team?" Steve began to wonder how long Clint had been listening from within the toilet.

Coulson smiled. "Well, he's a scientist right? Or at least a fan of science. Now, which two people in this room are the face of science?"

Steve sighed heavily when Stark grinned toothily. That was an unnecessary boost to his ego.

Peter sighed when he came up from his 'dumpster-dive' empty handed. Other than a few screws and bolts, he had found nothing of much use. Or nothing he could salvage, anyway. Still, screws and bolts were better than nothing.

Not only that, but he'd gone and cut his leg on a broken glass bottle. The cut wasn't too bad, and it wasn't bleeding that much, but there was a tear, and a small blood stain.

He braced his arms on the side of the dumpster, and lifted his body over the edge. He looked down at his suspiciously muddy trousers. His aunt May would hopefully not notice anything if he scrubbed the stains away from his room. Peter blanched when he saw a rotten banana peel on the back of his trouser-leg.

He quickly removed it from his leg, and continued home. His curfew started in about half an hour, (Which was eight o'clock) and that left him with five minutes to spare- if he ran. He pocketed his findings, and began to sprint. His cut wouldn't do much; he'd had worse.

Twentyfive minutes later, he was on his way back up the stairs to his and aunt May's apartment. The apartment building was too dingy to actually have a lift. And even if it did, said lift would probably collapse with one person on it. (Probably not Peter though. He had a sneaking suspicion that when he had been bitten by the spider, he had become noticably lighter. Whether that was because of his high metabolism, which left him always hungry for more. But he could not ask his aunt for more food; that would cost too much. The other reason was because it would be easier for him to move around quickly with less weight).

Peter shrugged the thoughts off and opened the door to their apartment with his key. "I'm back, aunt May!" He called as he slipped off his too-large shoes. Had she gone out? The door was locked.

As he stepped into the living room/Kitchen the scent of Aunt may's cooking hit him full force. Yep she was here. Wait... was that falafel?

All of the rooms were crushed together, except his room, and the bathroom. (His aunt slept on the sofa-bed in the livingroom).

"Hello, dear. How was school?" she did not really need to shout, because he was approximately five metres away from her in the squished apartment.

"It was good," he said as he went to the bathroom in order to find a cloth for his trousers. "Flash wasn't at school today- which is good." He mentioned as he stood on top of the toilet seat to reach the cloths. The downfall of being so small and light, was not being able to reach things that were higher up.

"Peter!" Scolded aunt May. "You should not be so nasty to boys in your class. He could be sick, then how would you feel? Mocking sick people." Peter almost fell off of the toilet seat when he heard his own aunt defending Flash Thompson. Then he remembered that she did not know about his... harsh treatment at school. (He didn't want to call it bullying; he felt that it would downgrade Spiderman alot to say that he was being bullied).

Then again, Peter felt alot different with his spider-suit on. It was almost as if he was an entirely different person. He had noticed that he acted completely different with his mask on. Perhaps it would not count to say that Spiderman was being bullied if Peter was the one being bullied.

He finally pulled a cloth down from the shelf above the toilet, by standing on the very tips of his toes. He went over to the sink to wet the cloth, before getting to work on the stains.

"Peter? Are you alright? You've been quiet for a while." asked aunt May, and he could hear her pulling out plates. This indicated that she was done cooking. "Food's on the table, by the way. Do come and eat."

"I'll be there in a minute, hang on a second." Said Peter, as he started on the second leg.

He could hear aunt May coming in his direction. "Do you need any help?" she asked, as she neared the bathroom.

Peter panicked. She did not need to see his mucky trousers, or the cut he had gotten from the broken bottle from the dumpster. "It's fine aunt May," he said and shut the door of the bathroom tightly. "You go eat, I'll be there in a minute."

There was silence for a moment, before aunt May agreed. "Alright. But if you need any help, you know where I'll be..." Peter detected a hint of hurt in her voice, and winced. He quickly finished scrubbing and joined her at the table.

The meal went by in tense silence. Aunt May had perhaps began to notice all of his increasingly terrible excuses, he considered in his room later that evening as he was waiting doing his homework. It was his favourite subject; science. He was better at robotics than anything, but genes came in at a close second.

He wondered if they would be in this position if uncle Ben hadn't died. Maybe they would still be in their old house. Maybe he and aunt May would still be on good terms if he was still here. Uncle Ben always had a way of getting rid of tension. In fact, Peter imagined Spiderman took after uncle Ben alot.

Yes, Peter wondered if they would be in this position, if Peter had not let uncle Ben die. Honestly, what kind of a nephew was he? Not only did he allow uncle Ben to die, but he was withholding important secrets from his aunt. His dear aunt who looked after him without question, who had taken him in and clothed and fed him when his parents had not been there.

He continued on his homework well into the evening until he heard his aunt settle into the creaky sofa-bed. With small, guilty grin atop his lips, he slipped out of his miniscule window, and prepared for another night of crime-fighting. He decided to forget about his tensing relationship with aunt May.

He was Spiderman now. And Spiderman was not one to be held back by the past. Spiderman looked forward to the future.