(Superfamily? Okay? Okay.)

Peter tried to keep it but he knew it wouldn't last for long- his parents would find it out eventually. But at first it seemed too easy.

Peter could escape through his high bedroom window with a swing of the arm and fling himself into the bright city at the tingling sensation that ran down his neck. He would return in the very early morning, usually bruised and injured, and wrap himself up before anyone would notice. His room would be untouched.

His fathers never bothered him when he was in his room- and Peter couldn't think of a reason why they hadn't just walked in to find him missing late in the night. He would climb into bed, and only get a few hours of sleep before the alarm would jolt him awake, making him scramble downstairs and rush for the bus at the end of the street.

They never went into his room. Never.

If they did, it would be obvious on what he was doing- who he was. There were faint wispy webs that seemed to dangle from each corner and crevice of the room, and there were multiple bandages and gauzes lying on his bedside table. It would be so obvious if they just walked in.

Of course Peter did try to hide it the best he could, and for the last month, he has been doing very well- avoiding any chances of capture or revealing his secret identity. He cleaned up his injuries so nobody could tell he had been hurt in the first place. When no one was in the Stark Tower gym, he would do incredible flips off the acrobatic bars with a grin, land on his feet perfectly and then scale the walls simply, he would just sit on the ceiling for a long time. No one noticed.

When no one was in the movie room, he would watch all of the documentaries on spiders that Jarvis had recorded. No one noticed.

And then he was stupid enough to be caught. He was the spider; he wasn't supposed to be caught. He was supposed to capture the bad guys, not the other way around- but when the Green Goblin learned his secret identity, everything spun out of control for Peter.

He remembers, clutching the side of his dresser right after stumbling in. It was the day of the field trip, the laboratory and the spider- the missing spider. After that, he didn't have to use his glasses. After that he could avoid being shoved into a locker by a bully. After that he was different. And Peter didn't know if it was in a good or a bad way.

When Steve tried to come and talk to him, he panicked, shoving all his drawings of his costume into his desk drawers and flinging the markers and graphite pencils under the bed. Peter recalls how he nervously slid out of his room and managed to persuade his father to talk to him in the living room, his heart thudding loudly in his ears. He remembers ordering the spandex for the suit- after hacking onto the S.H.I.E.L.D. account, he was very glad that no one at would notice; it wouldn't be a surprising thing to order.

Peter was out fighting crime after the moment he had a chance to save a man from being killed- and he didn't stop the killer. He watched in disbelief and horror, petrified as blood seeped onto the sidewalk, tainting if with blurry splotches of disgusting scarlet. He felt his throat close up as people gathered in a circle and the red and blue flashes of three police cars that sped down the road, right on the scene.

He has lost his focus in a moment of rage and pain, throwing the villain through a window straight to the cops, and then nearly crawled back home, shivering on his bed with unshed tears for the dead man he didn't even know the name of.

Thunder snarled outside his window as gray clouds loomed over the suddenly dark city and Peter could hear the gunshot ringing through his ears, and it wouldn't go away.

It wouldn't go away. It wouldn't go away. It wouldn't go away.

Lightning illuminated the walls of his room, and rain slipped down the arc of the one large window. The gunshot kept firing in his mind until Peter thought it was real and bolted up in his bed, crying quietly. But that was almost a whole month ago.

"Peter?"

The teenager froze at the door, swiveling around quickly to see his father- Tony Stark- peering around the corner with a face that Peter could only recognize as concern. Oh no.

"Yeah?"

"You've been kind of…I don't know, distant lately and-"

"Did Pops put you up to this?"

Tony pauses, mouth open and just closes it with a breezy sigh and nod. His lips curl up into a faint smile as he claps his son on the back and ushers him to the front door, ending the short, awkward conversation.

"And when he asks?"

"I tell him that you and I had a heartfelt conversation about our emotions and so on and so forth." Peter dramatically waves a hand in the air for effect as he repeats the line he's used so many times before. Tony ruffles his hair, his unease dying down, and shooing his son out so he would catch the bus in time.

"But honestly Peter, you're okay?"

The boy only gives a small grin to his father as he rushes down the sidewalk in a quick pace, heart settling restlessly in his stomach. He can't risk saying anything because before he knows it, he'll be blurting out all his secrets and problems.

He's never been a very good liar in those kinds of situations.

When he gets on the bus, he swiftly sits in one of the back seats, glancing out the window with dismay as yet another day begins.

The bell had only just rung, allowing the students to flood through the halls to any exit to escape the school when Peter felt the danger strike him like a claw running down his spine. He grimaced as Flash and his 'friends' rammed him into a locker, laughing loudly and calling him a long string of colorful words before striding away. Peter could only shrug it off and rush out of school.

It took record time to briefly slip on his suit like an old, favorite shirt, and swing out on top of the nearest building's roof, shaking his wrists as he leaps off. He sways easily as he shoots his webs back and forth around the corners of skyscrapers and prevents himself from smashing into any windows.

He lets out an easy sigh through his mask, his tense unease settling. Maybe nothing was wrong-

A strike from the back throws him down, crumpling onto the closest, broken down building. He only has time to see the green mask before he's thrown backward again, not having enough time to stop himself and smacking into the one of wooden beams of the structure.

Green Goblin, his mind screeches deafeningly in the background. The blows can't be stopped, his body not having enough time to react and for once, terror fills Peter's head. He feels his flesh being torn, the costume being shredded and the wounds opening so easily as fresh blood dripped down his skin.

A punch sends him flying again and again, and a voice sneers in a mechanical tone from above.

"Misery, misery, misery, that's what you've chosen. I offered you friendship and you spat in my face."

Another strike sends him backwards off the beam and tumbling into one of the unfinished walls. Spider-Man is stumbling on his feet, breathing ragged as crimson drips from to many wounds. One side of the mask is torn and ripped, bloodied around the edges and singed with the fire of the glider the villain rides on. Peter manages to swing out of the way before a miniature missile from the glider can hit him, but it does rip at his costume, burning the sides of his mask and- shit! He has to pat out the heat that started to melt away the mask- leaving only half of it.

"You've spun your last web, Spider-Man. If you had not been so selfish, you little girlfriend's death would have been quick and painless, but now that you've really pissed me off, I'm gonna finish her nice and slow. MJ and I are gonna have a hell of a time!"

The Green Goblin lunges and the world freezes as the sudden rage gives him strength, Peter slamming him into the brick wall, a violent snarl ripping through his throat.

Mary Jane. Mary Jane. Mary Jane.

His best friend- the girl he's had crush on for the longest time. The boy can't control the fury that fills his veins and the Green Goblin flinches, surprised and…scared.

The villain gasps in panic from behind the rough, dark voice of his suit with a distressed cry of "Peter! Peter, stop, it's me!"

When the Goblin's mask is taken off hastily, Peter's heart freezes in place, suddenly empty, cold and filled with a spiraling dread. He looks into the face of his best friend's father, weary and exhausted. Peter feels all the fight drain out of him, replaced with the 'oh my god' feeling.

"Mr. Osborn…" The words come unwillingly from his mouth. Anyone but him, anyone but him.

"Oh Peter, thank God for you."

The shock hits him before he can stop the pained, gravelly yell coming deep in his throat.

"Y-You killed those people on the balcony!"

The genius's face lights up with a genuine shadow of worry and terror. His wide, old eyes look up into Peter's tattered face with regret. And yet, Spider-Man has the hardest time believing he's being truthful. He remembers the crumbling balcony, falling apart and shattering far below. The screams of the people and the panicked charging of everyone fleeing the city street.

"The Goblin did it; I had nothing to do with it- Please, don't let him take me again! I beg of you, protect me!"

Spider-Man's face slides into a dark scowl, choking on his own words, "You tried to kill Mary Jane, and you tried to-"

"But not you? I tried to stop it, I couldn't stop it." The teen is unaware as Norman slips a finger down, pressing one of the bright buttons on his suit, the man averting his eyes from the pointed glider rising behind the hero.

"If anything happened to me, I knew it was you who would save me and so you have, Peter thank God for you," The Green clad man rises unsteadily to his feet, using the wall as support. He extends a wavering, shaking hand to the boy. "Give me your hand; I've been like a father to you. Be a son to me now."

The frown deepens on the teenager's face as he glares with shattered eyes through the half of his charred mask. "I already have two fathers."

The sinister grin suddenly reappears on the man's face, with a cruel, sadistic delight and his voice has suddenly lost its guilty tone, replaced with a pitch of insanity. "Godspeed Spider-Man."

He almost doesn't move in time as the spiked glider blasts forward, about to pierce him from behind, but luckily, the danger spider-sense feeling makes him backflip as the hovercraft charges. He stumbles on his feet, but keeps upright with a triumphant feeling growing in his chest. The loud intake of breath drains Peter of his success. In horror, he looks at the large barb, impaling the Green Goblin in the stomach.

He's glad he can't see all the blood.

Norman Osborn's eyes meet Spider-Man's for a moment as he gives one last wheeze, whispering a pained, "Peter. Don't tell Harry."

The man goes limp against the wall and Peter can't fight the few tears that brim in his eyes and fall onto his cheeks. Peter stumbles back in horror- He didn't want this. This isn't what he wanted. Why did this have to happen? Why was it him? He weakly shoots out a web and swings away from the scene before anything else can go horribly wrong.

Well. Peter now has proof that his life could seem to get more horribly wrong.

In an emotional wreck, he slides his window open and climbs in his dark room, curling up on the bed and not bothering to take off the suit- not even bothering to clean up the wounds that were leaking blood stains on his bed.

The cackle rings through his head. The blast of the glider and the piercing of Norman Osborn's body rings through his head. It won't go away. It won't go away. It won't go away-

"Peter?" A voice calls from right outside the door- it was Tony, "Is that you?"

The teenager only shifts his face even deeper into the pillows and sheets, covered with disgusting wounds and scars, tears freely falling now. His father must have heard his footsteps or the creak of the bed.

"Y-Yeah. It's me." He groans, rolling on his stomach in pain, hissing as his arm burns with agony. He looks to see the largest wound of all, great. Just what he needed.

"We've been looking all over for you." Tony sounds distressed. Looking at the time, he realizes it's been over two hours since he should have been home. Shit.

"Yeah, sorry. Got a little…" Peter licks his cracked lips in exhaustion, clearing his throat, "Side-tracked."

"Can I come in?"

His immediate response, "No."

He waits for the footsteps of his father- to indicate that he was leaving, but he hears nothing but the weary sigh- Peter gets that a lot from him. Tony wasn't leaving anytime soon until he opened up the door or talked to him.

"Where were you?"

His immediate response, "Out."

"Doing what?" The genius emphasizes the last word with a little frustration, stamping his foot impatiently. Peter absently wipes a wound on his hand, trying not to gag in disgust as it swells again with blood.

His immediate response, "Stuff."

Peter realizes he really needs to work on cover-up stories, these were really horrible. He could practically see his father making his 'Really? I know you are lying to me' face. He was not believing one word and would try to get Peter out of his room eventually.

"Peter, open the door."

"No."

There is a groan and Tony seems too tired for this game right now. He would just go the easy way around instead of coaxing his son from his room. He hears his father drum his fingers across the doorframe before sighing.

"Jarvis, unlock Peter's door, now."

"No, don't!" The words escape the boy's lips and he gives a ragged breath of terror, nearly falling off the side of his bed and deciding to bury himself in his sheets. Tony can't see him; he is in costume, he-

The door slides open and an intense golden light floods the room as Tony steps in, glancing around to find his son and noticing the fidgeting figure in the blankets.

"Whoa, what the hell-"Tony says as he sees the mess of the room, and then in a serious tone whispers, "Peter, look at me."

"Please…no." He sees Tony's figure stiffen with panic and move towards him.

"What happened Peter? Were you injured?"

"I don't w-want to talk-"He chokes on a sob, and shuffles beneath the covers even further. His father sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out for his son. "Y-You'll be upset with me and-"

"Peter," Tony goes still, his words laced with concern, "I don't care what happened, please just tell me, no matter-"

"You would be upset even if I-"Peter peers out from the refuge of the sheets, revealing his face with half the mask still on. "Do something I know I shouldn't?" He props himself up, showing his torn costume, tears drying. "Hi dad."

Tony went completely quiet, motionless, eyes wide with disbelief, "Oh, you are in so much trouble- Are you fucking kidding me right now? You…you're-"

"Don't say it." Peter hisses, bunching down in the bed again, not trying to cover his body with the blankets this time while he buries his face in the soft comforter with a loud, broken sob.

"He died, Dad- h-he tried to… and I-"Tony lifts him into his arms, running a hand through his hair smoothly and letting his son cry on his shoulder. The genius is still in shock from learning his son was one of the most recent superheroes in the city, but it wasn't enough to stop him from calming his sobbing child.

"Peter…" Tony whispers into his hair, kissing him on the top of his head and hugging him tightly as the crying dies down to sniffling whimpers. "Before my Arc-Reactor fails on me, tell me…how did this happen?"

"Month ago. Lab field trip, spider bite and then all of this."

"You were bitten by a spider…a whole month ago? Pete-"

"Radioactive spider." Peter croaks softly, breaking the silence and finally looking up to see his father's face emotionless and blank as a new piece of paper. They stay in silence for the next few minutes.

"And you went off fighting crime just like that?"

A small smile lights Peter's face before it drops of the next moment. "T-There was a shooting and if I hadn't let that man pass he wouldn't have pulled out the gun-"

"Peter." The hard stare his father gives him shuts him up completely, "You had nothing to do with that, no matter who got injured or killed. That wasn't your fight. What makes you think that every fight is now your fight too?"

The boy only looks up, hoping that his father wouldn't be mad about the blood stains he was leaving in his shirt. He just trembles and nods solemnly and keeps his head against the warm glow of the Arc-Reactor.

"I can't believe I didn't notice…where did you even get the supplies for all of this?"

"My parents are two rich billionaires and superheroes, it isn't going to be hard to order some red and blue spandex and-"

"Spandex?" Tony chokes, "Are you trying to get yourself killed Pete?"

"No, I-"

"That stuff is like paper-thin! You could-"

"Dad."

"Peter, I just-"

"Dad?"

The look that Tony gives him is a hard-core stare that says 'we're talking about this later'.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

"Yeah…I'm not," Peter finally gives him a timid grin before gripping onto the bed's edge, "Pop is gonna kill me."

"Not if I kill you first," Tony took a shuddering breath before grabbing Peter to hoist him up, looking at him straight in the face. There is a deep sadness that Peter has never seen before. "What were you thinking? You, I can't…oh my god. What if you died? How do you think that would make us feel, Peter? You've been all over the news, and- shit, last week with the parade! What if you had died, and we didn't know until they took off the mask and t-they…look at you right now, what were-"

"Tony? Peter?" A voice echoes out from the doorway. Both of the men freeze, Tony looking almost hysterical and Peter down right horrified. "What're you-"

Steve stops and looks at the two before double-taking Peter's appearance with a soft, "Oh my god."

The blonde leader rushes forward and swoops his son into his arms with a crushing bear-hug. Tony looks startled and staggers as he gets up off the bed, seeming a little alarmed by the blood on his shirt. When Steve decides lets go, both parents stare at their son with a mix of emotions. Pride. Terror. Disbelief. Fear. Anger. Love.

"You-you've been," Steve hesitates, words lost in his throat. He sounds agitated, but Peter can hear the ounce of pride hidden in his voice, "…going out on your own this whole time? Would you like to start from the beginning, young man?"

Oh no. His father used the 'young man' term on him, which meant this conversation is not going to end well. He should have expected this to happen at some point. The glare they both give him confirms there is most likely going to be a punishment.

"So…" Peter hoarsely paused, trying to wear an innocent smile, "I guess this would be a good time to explain all of this." The boy motions to his red-and-blue costume, torn, scorched and in tatters around his arms and legs, while his soft eyes glance up at his two fathers through the half of his mask that wasn't burned off of his face. "So, uh, I'm Spider-Man…y'know…I fight crime and shoot webs from my hands and can climb buildings…yeah, and I do all of this when you two aren't looking…Am I grounded?"