Sequel to We Might Be Radioactive. Bruce and Peter struggle to define the boundaries of their relationship, unaware that their recent escapades have drawn the attention of some very powerful assholes. As the Avengers become targets of their increasingly incoherent and dangerous plots, Peter has one last chance to prove he can cut it as part of the team.

Warnings for explicit sex, violence, age gap, dub-con, and Hulk/Peter. I was able to update Radioactive pretty quickly last time because it was already finished and just needed polish, but this is probably going to be an updated weekly deal. Thanks for your reviews and support, it means a lot to me to see love for a rare pair! I hope you enjoy, C&C welcome.

EDIT: Just realized I was spelling Osborn wrong the whole time, oops. Fixed now.

Let's Glow in the Dark
Prologue

It was not often that the famous Thunderbolt Ross went into battle without his uniform.

Negotiation was not his forte. He would have preferred the meeting to be on his own terms, on his own turf, with the full, intimidating force of olive service dress and a chest full of brass bolstering him. His forthcoming opponent was not one to be feared, but he expected resistance and no small amount of idiocy. In better days it would have been beneath him. But Ross's better days were behind him, and he had little choice but to march into a federal prison in a charcoal suit, with only one plain-clothes officer at his side.

The warden met him just past the security checkpoint, and after a tedious exchange of pleasantries, they continued on to the visitation wing. A private room had been prepared with a table, two chairs, and a cell phone, as per Ross's request. With his officer waiting outside Ross took his seat, and as soon as the door was closed behind him, he picked up the phone and dialed.

It was answered on the second ring by a man's rough voice. "Yes?"

"It's me," said Ross. "I'm here. I hope you're sure about this, Osborn. You know how I feel about wasting my time."

"I am out of options," said Norman Osborn. He sounded even worse than the last time they'd spoken only the day before-his breath seemed to hiss against each word. "And so are you, so unless you have an alternative to suggest, I don't see what choice we have."

Ross hated to agree, and was spared from having to do so when the far door opened. A guard stepped through leading a uniformed prisoner: possibly the last man General Ross would have ever wished to go to for assistance. When the guard offered to cuff the man to the chair, Ross declined, and they were left alone.

"Hammer," Ross greeted, making no effort to hide his irritation. "It's been a long time."

That time hadn't been kind to Justin Hammer. Whenever he surfaced for another court appeal he managed to put on a spectacle for the cameras, but there was no hiding the weight he'd lost beneath his orange prison jumper, the dark circles under his eyes, the gray in his hair. For several beats he stared at Ross in shock and looked nothing like the smarmy little asswipe Ross was ashamed to have ever worked with. It may have been an improvement.

"General Ross." Hammer rallied himself and took a seat. He looked jumpy and Ross liked that. "Well. If I'd known you were coming I would have put the champagne on ice."

Ross's smile was mostly sneer. "But you know I only drink whiskey." He set the cell phone to speaker and placed it on the table between them. "Besides, we're talking business now."

"Business." Hammer gave a short laugh and then eyed the phone as if it were a python. "Funny. Business with whom?"

"Hello, Hammer," the phone croaked. "This is Norman Osborn."

Hammer flinched back and then laughed again. "Norman Osborn himself, huh? This is quite an occasion." He relaxed back in his chair with a bitter smirk. "But you're barking up the wrong tree. You must be looking for the head of Hammer Industries. By which I mean, not me."

"If he could help me, believe me, I wouldn't be here." Ross reached into his jacket and removed a folded piece of paper to pass across the table. Hammer didn't make any move to accept it at first, but as Ross continued, he reluctantly peeled it open. "Within a few weeks, Oscorp will own everything left of Hammer Industries worth owning," said Ross. "Between the negotiations and your ongoing trial, we were able to acquire a very comprehensive list of your assets and transactions. Among them, there's at least one item unaccounted for. It was moved from Hammer Industries' main facility to a storage unit sometime in 2009, but it's not there now."

Hammer tugged his glasses off the collar of his jumper and slipped them on as he read over the sheet. When he reached the item Ross had highlighted, his eyebrows rose. "The vita-ray chamber."

"Is it the real thing?"

Hammer glanced to him over the top of his glasses. Something clicked in that pea-sized brain of his and Ross knew Hammer had him by the balls already. Not that it really mattered. He had reconciled with what he would have to do before stepping foot in the prison.

"It took you a lot longer than I thought it would," said Hammer. He set the paper down. "General Ross, chaser of little green men. All that time looking for the American dream, and you never thought to recreate the exact circumstances."

"Is it the real thing?" Ross asked again.

Hammer was trying very hard to not grin. After a year in the pen any man would have pounced on the chance to be a king, if even for just a few minutes in a prison visitation room. "Oh it's real," he said, all his earlier jitters replaced with smugness. "Everyone said the thing was dismantled back in the fifties. 'Cause you see, by itself, it's worse than useless. Vita-rays are nasty business. Give people cancer. Without the proper serum..." He made a squeamish face and shook his head.

"I know all that," Ross said impatiently.

"Then I'm sure you know about how old Howie Stark hid the thing from the government," Hammer went on, and Ross listened closer. "They were gonna make him scrap the thing-gives people cancer, you know-but it was such a beauty, he couldn't part with it. Submitted a replica and put the real thing in deep storage." He heaved a sigh. "Of course, then he went and died. The company was in the crapper so Stane started selling off his trinkets. My old man bought the vitay-ray chamber from him at some kind of underground auction back in..." His brow furrowed. "Nintey-four? Ninety-five?" He shrugged. "You won't find a record. Damn thing didn't come with a title. But yeah, dad really got off on having Stark's favorite disappointment. It's a piece of American history."

He sounded like he knew what he was talking about, but it was never easy to tell with Hammer. Ross had been burned before but he didn't exactly have a choice, and all three of them knew it. So he asked, "Where is it now?"

"A basement," Hammer said. "In a facility, owned by a company I own. I still own." His smugness was reaching impossible levels. "At least, I'm pretty sure if the feds had unwound that particular ball of red tape they would have come a'calling about it. There's more than WWII relics in that basement." He wriggled his fingers ominously. Ross scowled, but before he could ask his next question, Hammer went on.

"So, I know what your interest is in it," he said. "Though I'm surprised they're even letting you keep your fingers in that pie. But what about our friend Norman?" He tapped on the phone that had remained silent for too long. "You still there? Tell me Oscorp is not buying me out so it can put the whole thing in the toilet over Captain Boyscout 2.0."

"I'm still here," said Osborn wearily. "My interest is in acquiring property that could potentially belong to me."

Hammer flashed Ross a face that said, Can you believe this guy? "You're in bed with the Thunderbolt Ross, visiting me. Did he promise you a super soldier for Oscorp's next bake sale? Come on, Norman, we both know he might as well promise you the moon. Something else is going on here. Ah!" He leaned forward against the table. "Tell me this is about that spider-thing all over the news."

Ross ran his tongue over his teeth. "What makes you think that has anything to do with this?"

Hammer's lips pulled back in a shark's grin. "You are going to get me out of this prison," he said matter-of-factly. "That much is a given. But you are here in a suit and Norman-fucking-Osborn is on the line, three days after a spider-monster did Godzilla battle with your favorite disappointment. Something is going on-this is a negotiation and I want everything on the table."

Ross returned Hammer's grin with bitter twist of his lip. When he was a fresh recruit, his drill sergeant used to say that even the smallest, dumbest termite could eat you out of your house if you made it hungry enough. It never stopped being true. "What do you know about spiders?"

"I know they've caused a world of trouble for my old friend Norman." Hammer gave the phone a flick and watched it spin on the table. "In spandex and out. You know what the internet is saying, don't you? Yes, we get internet here. Everyone's saying that Oscorp is a monster factory, and when Spider-Man broke in to bust your lid open, you sicced an all-too-appropriate eight-legged beast on him."

"That thing did not come from Oscorp," Osborn grumbled.

"Oh, right. You prefer lizards."

"Spider-Man stole something from me." Ross was tempted to warn Osborn not to get drawn up in by Hammer's bait, but he didn't like the man that much and stayed out of it. "He is a thief, and he's spreading rumors to defame my company. We had nothing to do with that creature."

"So then, was it one of yours?" Hammer looked to Ross. "Harlem wasn't enough, huh?"

"You were right the first time," Ross begrudgingly admitted. "I'm locked out of the serum project. That thing didn't come from me."

Hammer drummed his fingers on the table. His eyes narrowed with amusement. "You don't think it's mine, do you?"

"Where is the chamber?" Ross asked again.

"It's secure, really. That oven hasn't put out so much as an apple pie since we bought it. No, seriously." Hammer rolled his eyes. "Like I said, if someone had breached that facility you would know about it by now."

Ross had the feeling nothing Hammer had stowed away could surprise him, but he couldn't help a touch of curiosity. He decided to take the risk. "When I read the report, I assumed it was Oscorp's work," he said evenly. "It had all the signs of Dr. Conners' formula. Osborn had the same thought about me and the Super Soldier Serum, and considering the intervention of Spider-Man and..." He twitched. "...the Hulk, both of our assumptions were valid. It was when we met to discuss the matter that Osborn revealed to me what he had learned about the vita-ray chamber in your possession. So we made a deal." He saw Hammer's eyes gleaming and added gravity to his tone to match. "That I would get him the chamber if he provided the serum."

Hammer tsked at him. "If you put a lizard in that thing it's just going to give him lizard cancer."

"Not that serum. Erskine's serum-my serum."

"You want him to... huh." Hammer frowned, thinking it over, and then frowned deeper. "Did I miss something?"

Ross drew the phone closer. "Send the photo."

A moment later the phone chimed with an incoming message, and Ross opened it to show to Hammer. "I assume you saw this much of the incident in New York."

Hammer squinted at the photo of Captain America amongst a group of New York police officers. "Yeah, I saw him. He's...wait." He laughed. "You're not saying he's the real thing."

"A Nazi war plane was salvaged from the far north some weeks ago," Ross explained. "Their findings didn't make it to my desk. But now we have Captain America, and from what we've seen, his abilities are comparable to what they were during the war." He managed not to let his opinion of that make it to his voice. "Either they've revived a seventy-year-old corpse, or they've extracted the original Erskine formula from it."

"You think that's where the spider came from?"

"The serum my department used is still on ice. I've confirmed. If Osborn says the thing isn't his, there are only so many possibilities."

Hammer flicked at the phone again. "You believe him?"

"I'm dying," said Osborn, and for a moment all the smug superiority was absent from Hammer's downturned eyes. "If Erskine's formula exists, I have to have it, and I need that chamber with it. If you ever want to see your freedom again, you're going to give me what I need, because we can bury you as easily as set you free. You know that."

Hammer was quiet for a long moment. Ross saw in him that the negotiation was already over-Hammer would do anything to escape. Despite all his bravado he had been trembling when he entered the room and the weight of iron bars was on his shoulders. A man like him wasn't going to last long in even a shallow hole. They had already won.

But then Hammer took in a deep breath and lifted his head. "You need me to get the serum, too, don't you?"

Ross scoffed. "Now you're-"

"If you could get to this guy through the military, you would have it already. Oscorp has its ways, but if Norman needs it as badly as he says he does, he would have it already. And then he'd be negotiating with me via some gorilla of his own instead of a decorated general." When Ross started to interrupt, Hammer talked over him. "Am I wrong? This isn't about getting me out, this is about getting yourselves a grunt to find this asshole and then scapegoat me back into prison. We're all shady fuckers here but I'm the one that's dealt mini-guns to terrorists, and that's what you need: connections. Right? So who's got who by the balls here?"

Hammer leaned back. His superiority had sharpened into something lethal, and Ross couldn't help but grin back at him, bearing teeth. "Prison's changed you, Justin," Ross said. "It really is an improvement."

Hammer licked his lips and was suddenly a businessman again. "We all want something here," he said, his fingers tapping. "A chamber, a serum." He waved his hand vaguely. "A chance to live. And Thunderbolt Ross, I'm sure you wouldn't mind a chance to restore your, what would you call it, lost honor? By finally getting that damn serum to work? This table has a lot on it right now, but I think we can fit a bit more on, in case either of you wants to add to the pile."

"Spider-Man," Osborn said immediately. "I want Spider-Man."

Hammer gestured to the phone. "There, see? Spider-Man is on the table. Between him, Captain America, and whatever you called the green one, you've already declared war on the country's heroes. That's a lot weighted against just me getting out of prison."

"All right, then." Ross shook his head as if trying to deny to himself that he was impressed. "Just say what it is you want."

"Stark." Hammer all but seethed in his skin. "On a pike, preferably."

Ross laughed; he should have guessed. "And with that, I think our table is full."

"My terms are my terms," said Hammer, shrugging. "And we all know you're going to take it, so shake my god damn hand, won't you?" Hammer extended his hand across the table. "Come on, Thaddeus. Say you don't want his head on a stick as much as I do, I dare you."

Ross hated to do it, but he shook Hammer's hand. "If your tech was half as good as your mouth I would have picked you over Stark years ago," he lied. "So. Where is the chamber?"

Hammer leaned back and wiped his hand off on his shirtfront, to Ross's irritation. "Oh come on, you know how this works. Not until I'm free."

"It will take time," Osborn protested. "I don't have time."

"So what?" Hammer pointed at the phone and rolled his eyes as if trying to share with Ross a private joke. "It doesn't really matter if you kick it before I'm out, because, and I'm just being honest here, you're really the least important part of this. You realize that, right?"

"You have nothing," Osborn growled. "No company, no money. And Ross has no authority worth a damn anymore. If you-"

Ross reached forward and set the phone to mute. "You'll be hearing from your lawyers soon," he told Hammer. "It will take time, but I guarantee that you'll walk within two months. So you'd better have that chamber gift-wrapped for me."

"With bells on," Hammer agreed. He sat back as Ross pressed a button on the table that signaled the end of their visit. "Give my regards to your lovely daughter."

Ross grimaced, and only just managed not to put his fist down Hammer's throat. Thankfully, the guard returned and escorted Hammer out. Ross didn't leave right away. He drew the phone to his ear and returned the sound to normal. "We knew he wasn't going to give it up that easily," he said. "He's sharper than I remember, but it worked out exactly as we planned."

"There are other ways to get the location out of him," Osborn grumbled.

Ross scoffed. "If you want to pay off federal prison guards to torture him, be my guest. But we still need that soldier, and whoever he is, he's one of Fury's Avengers. Better to let Hammer blunder ahead of us and take the heat." He could hear Osborn muttering and added, "You're just going to have to make do with what you have for now. Or don't. Hammer was right about you after all-there are plenty of people I can go to for funding."

"You can drain that soldier's blood dry and it won't do you any good without scientists to analyze it. So unless you want to call up your old friend Dr. Banner, you still need me, General." He harrumphed. "Or is he on the table as well?"

In better days, General Thaddeus Ross wouldn't have wasted his time with either of these men. No one would have questioned his worth or his authority no matter the cause or mission. But Ross's better days were far behind him. "You just make sure you're ready," he said. "Like I said: two months, and Hammer goes free. Then we go to war."

Ross hung up and left.