#MafiaBatfam

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 7: 

There wasn’t much of a rush at first. Peter liked to think it was more shock than anything, but a part of him knew that this had happened far too often for him to really be in shock. It wasn’t until about ten to fifteen minutes after Commissioner Gordon had been taken into the manor did the flames of his rage finally burst.

Piper, ever the observant puppy, came up to him with her tail between her legs, noticing and responding to her master’s distress. Peter’s eyes softened as he ran a hand through her soft fur. Titus lumbered up to him not long after, resting his large snout onto Peter’s lap. He let out a strained chuckle.

“Thanks, Titus,” he said and received a lick on his hand from his large tongue. A presence approached from behind him.

“Parker,” a stiff voice said. Peter hummed, not really interested in turning around to face Damian. Peter could tell Damian was a little nervous, as his heart rate had elevated a bit. “Are-” a pause came, “are you alright?” There was a note of reluctance in Damian’s tone as if he wasn’t sure he should be there. Peter let his lips twitch up slightly.

“Fine.” Damian came to stand in front of Peter. “Well, as fine as I can be.” They were silent for a while, before Peter heard heavy footsteps lumbering towards the room they were in.

“Hey Bruce,” he called out noncommittally. The footsteps stopped before the door.

“How are you holding up, Peter?” The deep voice of the head of house asked. Peter shrugged, not really caring if Bruce could see or not. He probably noticed though.

“Like I told Damian, as good as I can be.” Bruce entered the room, coming to stand next to Damian, both men looming over Peter like it was their job to do so.

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Can you tell me where Harley is?” A regretful look came upon the man’s handsome face, though his son’s expression was as ambiguous as ever.

“If I could, Pete, I would. But I don’t.” Peter scoffed, running a hand through chestnut curls with agitation.

“So there is something the great Batman doesn’t know,” he mumbled to himself, though he could tell that Bruce and Damian heard it. Both men froze, and while their faces remained unreadable, he could see the surprise coursing through their eyes.

Bruce’s voice was quiet, though Peter could hear the strain.

“How did you know?” Peter levelled them with a cool look, and despite not planning to reveal that he knew at that exact moment, he didn't think to feel bad about it.

“I know I’m not a detective, Bruce, but give me some credit. I can figure things out on my own, even if you didn’t make it so blatantly obvious.” Father and son straightened up, from shock, wariness, or pride, Peter doesn’t know. Peter just knew that they had many things to talk about so both stalked out of the room, footfalls heavy and rushed as the door banged closed on their way out. It was another five minutes before Peter retired to his own room, Piper and Titus following from behind.

-----

“Knock knock,” Dick’s voice called out, breaking Peter’s train of thought. Peter pushed himself into a sitting position, giving the handsome man a forced grin.

“Hey Dick,” he greeted softly. “What’s up?” The light seemed to bend around him in the doorway, making him seem like some sort of angel. In reality, Peter knew he was far from that.

“I heard you knew.” Peter gave a one shouldered shrug.

“I figured it out pretty early on.” Dick leaned on the doorway.

“When?” Peter thought for a moment, calculating.

“I knew you weren’t normal when I met you. I didn’t really realize that Bruce, Batman I mean, was mafia until I came here.” Silence commenced and Dick seemed to hesitate before entering the room, dark and warm.

“You-” The eldest Wayne paused, “you won’t do anything will you?”

The unspoken ‘you won’t tell?’ was quite obvious.

“Not unless you do anything in front of me. Otherwise, I won’t have proof.” Dick’s shoulders slumped before he came forward to sit on the bed.

“You realize now, that we can’t let you go, right?” Peter didn’t react to that statement.

“Would you have let me go even when I didn’t know you guys were mafia?” A tense moment passed before Dick’s shoulder came out of their slumped position, shaking with silent laughter. Peter already knew the answer before he even asked the question.

“No,” Dick admitted, and while it wasn’t a surprise to Peter, he had no idea why he was so gutted upon hearing the admission. Maybe it was his conscience kicking in. “No, I suppose not. You know, gorgeous, it’s so weird.”

“What is?”

“I’ve killed more than my fair share of people,” Peter’s chest ached but he didn’t otherwise react, “but I’ve never had anyone make me feel the way you do.” Peter leaned back onto his hands, his arms bearing the weight of his torso and his heavy heart.

“You realize that makes you like a psychopath, right Dick?” At that, the look on the other man’s face became pensive.

“More like a sociopath. That’s what I would characterize me as. I saw my parent’s murder, you know.” The sudden change in subject gave Peter a bit of whiplash and he did not know this. Peter knew that Bruce Wayne had acquired Dick Grayson when his parents died from a nasty fall. He also knew that Dick Grayson watched them fall off that platform.

He always thought it was hard on him, considering circumstances and all, but then he remembered that this was not the same Dick Grayson from the comics, but darker, a shadow version of the light that Dick was supposed to be. “I saw those men sabotage the ropes. I could’ve stopped it,” the look in Dick’s blue eyes was intense, as if testing Peter, “but I was so damn curious.” Peter licked his lips, suddenly dry. His hands started to sweat and his heart thudded with a ferocious force in his ribcage.

This is not where he saw this conversation going and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Curious? About what would happen?” The blue eyes bore into him a little while longer before looking away and Peter felt like collapsing against the mattress, the weight gone from his body, no longer paralysing him.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. I was young and I didn’t always know how things worked so I was curious about what would happen if those men cut the ropes and my parents still used them. I felt bad afterwards. They were genuinely good people, Pete. That’s why I exacted my revenge on the people who did that to them.” Their gazes met as Peter stared incredulously at the other man. The intention of his stare didn’t need to be said.

“They were still my parents, Peter. It felt right.” Peter scoffed, turning away from Dick completely, though the feel of those blue eyes burning into him didn’t fade away.

“Felt right after you used them in some sort of sick experiment like they were lab rats.”

“Well-” Dick started to justify it, but Peter knew that even if it seemed like the most logical explanation, it would still be wrong.

“Well nothing, Dick. They were people.”

“So?” Peter’s head snapped over his shoulder to meet Dick’s glowing eyes. At least, they seemed to be glowing.

“So?! That’s all you have to say?!” The full gravity of Peter’s situation dawned on him. The person he was sitting with, while not completely dark and vicious, was morally grey and would not hesitate to do whatever would benefit him and all that he cared about.

“People are expendable,” the casualty with which Dick said that was like a knife to the gut, “they come and go and it’s natural. Our history precedes us and our kind, from the slums and the impoverished, are known to be those who either kill for survival or for fun, but killers nonetheless. Times may change, Peter, and so will civilizations,” Dick stood up from the bed, the springs beneath him creaking as they righted themselves, “but humans will always stay the same. Till the very end.”

Peter let go of the sheets, his grip starting to rip through the seams. Instead, he clenched his fists hard, back towards the door and Dick, his face shadowed in the darkness.

“This is the world that you’ll be living in from now on, Pete. Harley was already living in it before you came along. She got used to it. She survived. Now, it’s your turn. And I hate to do this, bambi, but behave,” Peter flinched at the warning note in his tone, similar to Tony’s when Peter did something in the lab but with a much more vicious intent, “before my family and I are forced to do anything drastic.”

“You’d kill me?” There was a pause before Dick answered. It made Peter sick to know that Dick had to hesitate. It meant that he could if he wanted to. At least, he could if Peter didn’t have his powers. Dick stood up and headed to the door as he responded.

“No, we don’t kill anyone unless we really have to. You’re close with a lot of our family and our associates so that gives you rapport, but don’t think for a second that we won’t do something if you force our hand.” The older man paused for a second, hand on the knob.

“On another note, it would probably be best if you didn’t leave the house for a few days. Just for, you know. Safety purposes.”

‘Mine or yours?’ The vigilante thought silently before asking,

“So you’re locking me in here?” The golden halo of light that bent around Dick made it seem as if his eyes were glowing as he looked back at his guest-turned-prisoner.

“If you want to call it that. You still have free reign of the manor, bambi, and all of its features, but for now, leaving is out of the question. At least until my family and I get this situation figured out.”

‘What’s there to figure out?’ It wasn’t as if he was someone important. They already have the police under their control, and it was a lengthy process getting other government factors into play, like the FBI. If he were to do that, he’d have to play the long game and Peter truthfully didn’t know how much time he had left.

In his thoughts, the younger man didn’t see the way Dick’s hand tightened on the knob of the door or how his shoulders tensed slightly; didn’t see the way the blues of Dick’s eyes glinted guiltily before he turned away. Peter was silent as Dick left, closing the door until only a slight crack revealed a sliver of light into the room.

Of all the Wayne family, he didn’t think Dick would be the one to deliver the threat. He thought Jason or Damian would be much better at it. However, he is aware of how he looks and they probably thought it would be best to have someone closer with him, and known to be softer than his brothers.

‘Yeah,’ Peter thought, ‘Dick was definitely the best person to send in.’

And now he was left with a dilemma. On one hand, Peter, who had entered this kind of life when he donned that red and blue suit, was on intimate terms with this lifestyle. He knew what it was like and was familiar with it.

On the other hand, he was on the opposite side of the Wayne family (at least, in this universe). He could not condone what they have done, are doing, and will do, even in the name of fighting against crime. So to sit idly by while they wreak this kind of havoc on streets like Gotham’s, which are already very heavily shrouded in crime and darkness, weighs heavily on his heart and on his mind.

“But I’m already so deep in,” he sighed to himself, his brows furrowing together before he perked up in realization.

‘Of course!’ Peter remembered the lesson that the Black Widow herself, Natasha Romanoff taught him a couple of years back.

“Make the best of your situation,” she said sternly just as they were about to be deployed on a mission, “and survive to the best of your ability. This life is messy, spiderling, and horrible. Roll with the punches. And remember,” her eyes were unreadable, Peter remembered, and very serious, “there is always opportunity in chaos.”

“There is always opportunity in chaos!” All Peter needed to do was to resolve this situation as best he could. That would mean going in himself and dismantling the Joker and his goons before the Wayne family ever have to get involved. Easier said but Peter’s done more difficult things. Then, he would need to speed the process of getting home. No more sitting on his ass and waiting for Dr. Strange to find him. He needed his own solution. Again, easier said than done but he would deal with his problems one at a time.

For now, he would deal with the one most prominent. Peter marched over to his bag, sitting by the desk and reached in, pulling out a small phone, frequently referred to as a burner. Typing in a number that he knew could be reached by, he sent a little text and waited for a reply.

It was time for preparations.

-----

Tony was hyperventilating.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked with terror in his tone, horror displayed plainly on his face. The boy er- man he had come to think of as a son was stuck in what was supposed to be a fictional world and had multiple men, all of whom looked like they could crush Peter, are chasing him because they like him.

‘What has the world come to?’ Stephen wrapped a supportive arm around his husband, who leaned into the touch, still as horrified as ever. It was about five minutes before Tony had had enough.

“Alright.” He stepped away from Stephen’s embrace. Stephen looked confused.

“Alright?”

“Alright,” Tony repeated. “I am getting my son back, if it’s the last thing I do. How do we do that?” The doctor was quiet for a moment.

“Alright,” he agreed (though it was a total overuse of the word ‘alright,’). “Let’s do this.”

-----

Peter scaled the wall, making sure that no one was looking. He had hacked into any street cameras nearby through a deployed gauntlet earlier and made sure that they were unable to spot him. Just in case someone had come looking. It was never a bad idea to make sure.

Not long after Dick had left his room, Peter locked it behind him and deployed his whole suit, putting it on stealth mode. After grabbing his backpack, he left through the lone window, making sure to be as quiet as he could be. It wasn’t hard considering his bone density lowered after the bite.

He crawled his way down to the ground and enabled cloaking, knowing that the Waynes were paranoid bastards. They probably had multiple contingency plans in place in case of an invader or many other things. From there, he ran towards the city at full speed, thankful for all the training he had gone through with the Avengers and Mr. Stark’s idea of having used the blueprints of Shuri’s Sneakers design and implementing them into the suit.

Everything was a blur as Peter ran at full speed (at his full speed, he can keep up with Bucky and Steve, and with time, probably pass them) and by the time he reached the edge of the city, he started swinging with his webs.

It was exhilarating to be doing this again. Peter found himself with a genuine grin on his face, a rarity since becoming stranded in Gotham. The familiarity of flying through the air at breakneck speeds, his backpack bouncing behind him as he grips onto the webs that he manufactured himself. The wind passed him by and it was like he was back in New York, saving people from the crimes of the night. Oh, how he missed it. He missed everything about it. New York was home, after all. Home.

‘I want to go home,’ he thinks morosely, severely lonely and depressed. The smile slid right off his face. His thoughts were silent the rest of the trip. It was about ten minutes before he landed on the roof of the Captain’s. No one was on the roof, as far as he could sense.

‘Good,’ he thought as he dropped down and retracted the suit around him. Walking towards the edge of the building, Peter crouched down and set his backpack onto the ground, bringing out a notebook and a pencil while waiting for his soon-to-be partner in crime. He dangled his feet over the side of the building as he wrote down what he was thinking.

About five minutes later, Peter could hear the strong heartbeat of Slade, and to the untrained (read: un-superpowered) ear, silent footsteps.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” Slade said quietly. Peter turned at the sound of his voice and gave him a small smile. Slade looked at him with a curious and attentive eye.

“Hey,” Peter’s voice came out slightly hoarse. Slade’s eye narrowed minutely, his leather jacket squeaking as he crossed his arms (they bulged out and holy shit, this is not the place, Peter!).

“What happened?” Peter let out a small laugh. He must’ve noticed my red rimmed eyes.

“Always straight to the point.”

“Did someone hurt you?” Slade’s tone was dangerous. The smile was off his face in an instant and he started to shake his head vigorously.

“No! Not at all!” The mercenary didn’t look convinced. Peter pursed his lips and in an effort to be sincere, he stood up and walked over to Slade, reaching and grasping his gloved hand in Peter’s own. The difference was rather stark. Slade was huge, afterall.

‘Not just in that one way,’ Peter’s inner thoughts seemed to smirk. Peter shook his head of that thought before a blush could spread over his cheeks.

“Slade,” he says, “I promise you that no one hurt me. However,” a blue eye sharpened at that, “someone did hurt one of my friends and kidnapped the other.”

“The clown girl?” Peter scowled and slapped Slade’s arm (as gently as he could).

“She is not a clown,” Slade raised an eyebrow (over the eye not in the patch). “But, yes, Harley. They kidnapped her and put Babs into the hospital.” The other eyebrow shot up, making a look of surprise.

“The Commissioner’s daughter? Betting the Waynes loved that.”

“Oh yeah, they’re over the moon,” Peter deadpanned. “The problem is I need help tracking Harley down.” Slade was silent for a moment.

“The Waynes wouldn’t help?” Peter shook his head, chestnut curls bouncing with the motions.

“It’s not that. They don’t need to be involved in this.”

“They’re going to be involved anyways. Aren’t you living at their house? Your friend was even there.” Peter let go of Slade’s hand, which seemed to twitch and hesitate, sighing.

“This will be faster. They’re in the limelight constantly. While I don’t doubt their investigative prowess, it’ll be harder for them versus, say, you. Also, they found out that I know. You know, about them?” The mercenary nodded in understanding.

“Okay.” Peter paused, hoping it meant what he wanted.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Slade voiced his assent. “What do you need me to do?” Peter thought for a moment. He is pretty sure he can trust Slade. At the very least, if things truly go to shit, he has another home (world) to go to (though that really defeats the purpose of Uncle Ben’s words). Despite being a mercenary, Slade has yet to do anything that would make Peter deem him untrustworthy. It was also a gut feeling. Slade wouldn’t betray Peter.

“Slade,” Peter called, looking up at the taller man through long and dark eyelashes, “I can trust you, right?” Slade eyed the really innocent yet somehow sultry look.

‘Damn kid really knows how to work me,' he thinks.

“Yeah,” Slade nodded. “Yeah, you can, sweetheart.” The younger man was silent for a moment before he finally decided.

“Good. Because what I’m about to show you is on a need to know basis. I’m counting on literally no one believing you unless I let them know too.” At this, Slade cocked his head.

“Let me know what?” Peter didn’t answer the question. Instead, he started packing up his stuff, putting his laptop and notebook back into his backpack.

“First, let’s go see a certain someone.”

-----

While Slade drove to the hospital, Peter had checked the security cameras around the area before going in. Commissioner Gordon had gone home for the night as visiting hours were over. The father was obviously very distraught at being separated from his injured child but not even Bruce Wayne could tell sleep-deprived nurses and hospital staff what to do.

“Okay, pull off here,” Peter directed Slade onto a road that was a little ways away from the side of the hospital. This was where the least amount of security cameras were and the cameras that were there, he had made fabricated footage to insert into the tapes, made easy by Mr. Stark’s suit and Ned’s hard and software that they integrated.

“Where’d you even learn how to do that?” Slade asked as he side-eyed Peter hacking into the cameras. Peter shrugged, a small smirk curving his lips. He was finally able to show that he is more capable than he seems. Slade had snorted at his lack of an answer, apparently amused.

They exited the car, making sure to grab their things. Slade tried to grab all the equipment in the back but Peter managed to convince him to leave it; that it’d be heavier than they needed.

“Hey, I said I trusted you. You said I could, right?” Slade seemed to know what Peter was going to say but indulged him anyway (very much so exasperatedly, but still).

“Yes, I said you could, sweetheart.”

“Then I want you to trust me.”

“I do,” Slade said without hesitation. Peter felt a rush of warmth through his chest before brushing it aside.

‘It’s not the time for this right now,’ he scolded himself.

“Then please trust me when I say that we do not need all that shit in the back.” The mercenary scowled.

“That’s my equipment, sweetheart. I regularly need and use that ‘shit in the back,’” he said with air quotes. Peter snickered at him.

“Well, don’t worry, okay? I know what I’m doing.” Slade had a dubious look on his face, though his expression barely changed since he met Peter on the rooftop. Finally, the taller man’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Fine,” there was a heavy and exasperated note in his tone, “but if we end up dying, I’m going to blame you.” Peter’s doe brown eyes scrunched up into crescents as he smiled. A slight dimple showed and Slade suddenly forgot what he was thinking about.

“Don’t worry, Slade. I’ll protect you.” Peter was pretty sure even the cameras could pick up the loud snort that came from Slade, even though they were audio silent.

-----

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Slade whisper-shouted as they approached the side wall of the hospital. Peter glanced behind him before looking back up at the wall of the hospital. Nearest the top floor is where Peter knows where Barbara’s room is. They’ll need to climb to the top. Peter smirked.

“I’m getting ready to climb.” Slade blinked.

“With what?! We left all the equipment in the car!” Peter shrugged with a look on his face that said ‘and?’ Suddenly, the younger man’s face got serious. “Alright Slade. What I’m about to show you is a secret. Harley doesn’t even know. For now, I want to keep it that way.” Peter waited until Slade nodded in agreement before rolling up his sleeve and rotating the wheel on his watch. The top screen popped upwards and he pressed down on it, activating his suit.

Peter felt the nanobots climb all over him, covering him from head to toe. It still retained the new car smell that Peter remembered telling Mr. Stark. He spread and clenched his hands, revelling in the feel of the suit back on his skin and the knowledge that he could now use his powers again without holding back. He looked towards Slade, ignoring the wide eye that was directed at him and held out a hand. “Let’s go.”

It was a few moments before Slade physically shook himself out of the little funk he was in and took Peter’s hand without a word, though his stance was wary. While holding Slade’s hand, Peter turned around and placed his large hand onto his shoulder.

“Alright,” he said with utter seriousness in his voice, “get on.” Slade was silent again.

“What?!” Peter rolled his eyes and faced the mercenary. He stepped forward and took both his hands, turned back around and let them fall onto his shoulders.

The spider themed superhero reached back and grabbed Deathstroke by the unders of his knees and surged upwards, lifting the mercenary onto his back. Slade’s torso fell over Peter’s head and for a moment, Peter was sure that the man on his back fell through the sheer shock of someone Peter’s height and weight (literally half of Slade’s) lift someone like him.

“Okey dokey. Hold on,” he sang and jumped about 20 feet into the air and onto the building, revelling in the catch in Slade’s breath as he clung onto Peter with a tight grip as Peter stuck to the wall with his feet alone.

“What the actual fuck.” The shock in his partner’s statement made Peter laugh.

“I’ll explain later, okay? Right now, we have a job.”

“You’d better,” he’d heard Slade grumble. It only made him laugh more.

-----

“What happened?” Bruce asked his first son as he descended the stairs. Dick had that steely look in his eyes, the one he had when he was forced to do something drastic, and it made Bruce antsy. There wasn’t much that could faze his eldest but it would’ve been bad if he had that certain glint in the blues of his eyes.

“I told him.” While the Wayne head had an inkling about what Dick told the little object of all his son’s affections (and the platonic affections of his unofficial daughter), he preferred if Dick told him straight.

“What exactly did you tell him?”

“I told him about my parents and that he should get used to this life because he’s in it now.” Dick looked directly at his adoptive father.

“Does he have to be though? I don’t want him to be.” Bruce sighed.

“It can’t be helped, Dick. He knows.” Bruce noticed something. “What else did you tell him?” His son was silent for a moment, realizing he was caught. Of course, Bruce and everyone else in his family know him better than anyone else in the world. No one else could get close enough anyway.

“I said that he shouldn’t leave the manor for a while. At least until we figure this out.” Bruce smirked at his son, eyes full of knowing.

“There isn’t anything to talk over, Dick. He can walk free if he doesn’t have any proof. You’re just trying to keep him here longer.” The eldest Wayne child stiffened before slumping.

“Before he inevitably leaves us.”

“Is that what’s going to happen?” Damian came from nowhere, signature scowl on his face. His other brothers followed him as they, too, showed similar expressions of displeasure.

“He has no proof of anything and he'll be staying for a few days. What more can we ask for?” Jason crossed his arms over his massive chest, though looking impossibly small next to his youngest brother.

“His forgiveness is too much. He won’t forgive us and we don’t expect him to, Dick.” Tim was right, however Dick couldn’t help but fight back.

“He knew the entire time, guys. He knew we were shady and the way we are.” Damian snorted.

“Anyone with eyes and half a brain can, Grayson. It’s not that impressive.” Damian gestured to each of them. “We don’t exactly hide it.”

‘Though people can be oh so dumb,’ the youngest thinks derisively. Bruce hummed, effectively silencing all other voices in the room.

“Though,” he said, tone thoughtful, “he could be useful. He’s helped Tim with countless things and Dick has a point. If he knew we were dangerous, why didn’t he stay away?” Everything was still silent. “I think it’s worth a shot to convince him to stay.” Damian scoffed.

“That may be, father, but his one reason to stay is now gone. How do you propose we convince him then? Save her, and then extort his good will into staying because we saved his best friend?” The head of the Wayne household smirked. His sons never failed him.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Tim mused, a pondering expression on his face. Jason grinned with a feral ferocity.

“I’m down.” The bass in his voice was rumbling. He really liked the idea. Dick smiled.

“It also involves tracking down the asshole who did this to Babs, so hell yes. You know, Buce, Commissioner Gordon is going to want to get in on this too right?” Bruce nodded, hair flopping as he does so.

“Of course he is welcome to join. He’s like family. So,” he made eye contact with each of his sons and Alfred, who had snuck himself in a while ago, “why don’t we get to work?”

It was phrased as a question but everyone in the room knew it wasn’t one. The ravenous and vengeful looks in their eyes were enough to make even Lex Luthor anxious.

-----

The beep of the EKG machine broke Peter’s heart as he and Slade silently entered the dark hospital room. Through his suit’s lenses, he could see the basic outlines of things with their heat signatures. People on the night shift were passing by their door but other than that, no one but him, Slade, and an unconscious Babs were in the hospital room. Peter carefully let Slade slide off his back, taking care not to make noise.

“Stay there,” Peter whispered and headed forward, evading the efforts of his partner to grab him and pull him back to his hulking figure. He had identified a lamp and crept up on it, pulling on the little metal string, illuminating the room.

Something sailed towards his head and his Spidey Sense went crazy. He caught it in mid-air, instincts quick and precise. He turned around and observed the object thrown. A knife lay in his hand, bright against the light of the lamp. Barbara Gordon lay in bed, eyes open with caution and determination, switching between looking at him and Slade, hand in the air.

“Who-” she wheezed, coughing heavily, “who the fuck are you?” Peter, in a sign of goodwill, placed the knife gently onto the ground and held up his hands in a surrender.

“It’s okay, Babs, it’s just me.” The helmet retracted to show his face, much to the red head’s surprise. “It’s Peter.” The shock in her blue eyes made him chuckle a bit. It almost made him want to see Slade’s face when he had found out earlier.

“What the fuck Peter. I could’ve killed you!” Peter smiled knowingly.

“No,” he said softly, “you wouldn’t have.” She looked on in shock while Slade stood by silently. Peter approached the bed, the suit retracting completely as the nanobots slid smoothly back into his watch. “How are you?”

Babs scoffed.

“I’ve been better,” she said sardonically, though her eyes were alight with pain. Peter’s face softened at her obvious hurt.

“Yeah. But hey,” a charming smile stretched across his face, “at the very least, you’re as beautiful as ever.” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes (a few of them trailed down her face), and she let out a wet laugh.

“I’m never going to walk again,” came a whisper but the words were no less devastating. Peter felt like he was punched in the gut and reached out to grab her hand, which squeezed his back with a ferocity that belied her devastation.

“That’s what the doctors said?” She nodded, obviously choked up. Peter clenched his teeth and looked over at Slade, only to find him staring at the scene in front of him with an observing eye. “Well, don’t worry. Slade and I are going to get to the bottom of this.”

“But, I thought Dick and Bruce were going to do that?” Was it okay to lie? He’s gotten better at it. Natasha is a really good teacher.

“We’re helping,” he lied straight through his teeth, aware of Slade stiffening on the other side of the room. Babs scoffed again.

“If that was the case, then why are you sneaking in when you can literally just walk in through the doors?” Damn Babs for being so smart. He quickly came up with an excuse.

“Because visiting hours are over and I’d rather not have my name on the visitor logs?” Barbara shrugged, wincing at the pain that the movement brought.

“Fair enough.”

“I just want to know what happened and anything that can help us figure out where Harley is.” A pained look took over Babs’ expression.

“I’m so sorry, Peter. If only we didn’t go out.”

“That’s not your fault Babs. You don’t have to feel guilty. However, I would appreciate it if you could tell us what you two were doing that night.” Barbara sighed, tucking stray strands of ginger hair behind an ear.

“She was contacted by her ex about a week ago and said he had wanted to apologize. He sent an address and told her to come and meet him. She didn’t want to go alone and she didn’t want you in danger so she asked me to come.” Tears sprang to Babs’ eyes. It was jarring to see someone usually so put together break down. “It was obviously a trap but we thought we could handle it between us two. We were wrong.”

Peter was quiet for a while. While he could be mad at Barbara and Harley for not telling him, he was also mad at himself.

‘Why didn’t I tell them about my powers right away? Maybe if I did, this all could’ve been avoided.’ Harley was yet another person on the growing list that Peter could not save. Guilt weighed heavily on his chest and it was likely that it weighed the same on his redheaded friend’s as well. He reached out and clasped her shoulder with a bare hand.

“It’s not your fault, Babs. Slade and I will get her back, so don’t worry,” he said softly. Blue eyes swiveled to meet his doe brown.

“How can you be so forgiving, Pete?” It came out as a whisper but her heartbreak was easily identified. Peter smiled sadly.

“Despite what you all think, I am familiar with situations like these. Now,” he came closer to the bed, “was there anything at all that could hint about where the Joker took Harley?” Her eyebrows pulled together and her expression became pinched. It was about a minute before she spoke again.

“I-I don’t remember much. A lot of pain, but,” she swallowed thickly, “as I was passing out, I heard someone say something about the sewers. It’s all pretty blurry after that but I definitely remember it.” Peter’s brows furrowed and he looked back at Slade who shrugged. The chestnut haired boy rolled his eyes.

‘So he’s no help.’ He sighed. ‘Looks like it’s come down to this.’ He pushed his sleeve back to reveal his watch. Peter tapped on the screen and let it go into unlock mode.

“Karen,” he said, and it was only a second before the AI that Mr. Stark had created for him, the AI that he hasn’t talked to in a month responded.

“Hello Peter,” her odd voice answered, and while it could be surprising to others, it only served to give him comfort. “What can I do for you?”

“Can you remotely hack into the Gotham City Hall’s record system?” Peter made eye contact with Babs’ wide eyes and he then looked over to his partner, and saw his narrowed eye. He had a lot of explaining to do.

“Alright, I’m in. What do you want me to look for?”

“Look for the most updated, recent plans and blueprints for the Gotham sewer system.” Another minute before a hologram popped from his watch, the wide prints of the sewers showcased obviously.

“Here. Is there something you would like me to look for specifically?”

“Yeah. Any spaces that can be used as a base of operations, where about 50 people can work?” The hologram zoomed into a spot on the blueprints.

“After analyzing the data, I believe the place you’re looking for is right here. It is directly underneath the Gotham Harbor.” Peter looked towards Barbara.

“You think she can be there?” The woman sputtered before answering.

“Uh- Yeah. Yeah, that can definitely be it. Um, Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“What was that?” Peter gave a small smile.

“This is my AI, Karen. Karen, this is Barbara Gordon and Slade Wilson. They’re friends of mine.”

“Nice to meet you,” was her cordial answer.

“Awesome,” Barbara breathed.

-----

“I’ll come visit you after this is over okay?”

“Wait, you’re not going to do this yourselves, are you?” Peter paused, briefly looking down at Slade who had made it to the ground safely.

“We’re working with-”

“Peter.” Her interruption shut him up quickly. She knew.

“I know that you’re not working with them.” A pause.

“Is it that obvious?”

“What happened?” Another pause of silence lapsed.

“I found out. About them. And their jobs. The one not known.” To Peter’s superhuman ears, he heard her breath being caught in her throat.

“And then what?”

“I told him that I have no proof. He told me that I should stay in the manor for now.”

“Dick did?” Peter nodded. “And you didn’t listen?” He smirked over his shoulder, getting ready to drop. There was only so much time. Who knew what the Joker would do to Harley if he didn’t stop him.

“Have I ever really been one to listen?” She gave a small chuckle.

“I guess not.” Peter’s eyes softened.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m more capable than you know.” The smile on her face matched his.

“Good luck.”

On the way back to the truck, Slade was quiet. Peter could tell he was also brooding. It wasn’t until they were safely back in the vehicle that he broke the silence.

“Slade, I know that was a shock, but you have to understand, I couldn’t tell any-” The mercenary held up a large hand. Peter quickly quieted.

“Look, sweetheart. You don’t owe me anything. Don’t get so caught up. Plus, we can talk about this later, when this is all over. For right now, focus on the mission.” Peter nodded, a contemplative look on his face as Slade started the engine and pulled out of the area. The superhero pulled up the camera feed and began rolling it again, wiping any evidence that they were ever there. Then, a thought occurred to him.

“Hey, Slade?” The mercenary hummed in reply.

“What if we don’t make it?” His answer was instantaneous.

“We’ll make it.”

“But-”

“We’ll make it!” His voice was rough and the statement came out in a growl. Peter clenched his teeth.

“You never know,” he said quietly. Slade shook his head.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” He turned his head to look Peter in the eyes. His one eye was dead serious and assured. “I promise.”

It wasn’t for another few minutes that Peter responded.

“Alright,” he nodded, “I believe you. Now. Let’s go beat some clown ass.”

Slade’s laugh could be heard a mile away.

-----

Tim paged everyone in the family, who all rushed down to the Cave, save for Dick, who had gone to talk to Peter.

“I found where they are.” Damian crossed his arms, sneering.

“And how exactly did you do that, Drake?” Tim rolled his eyes.

“I highly doubted that the Joker would be above ground, since we have influence over a majority of Gotham. Joker lost his territory to Cobblepot earlier last year, after his encounter with Jason and they hate each other. So I was stumped as to where I could find him. Then, I remembered the underground of Gotham, consisting mostly of sewage systems. However, within those systems, I can only count a handful of places where he could hide. I’m betting he’s there.” Damian scoffed, green eyes hard.

“All conjecture.” His older brother shrugged, hair flopping.

“Maybe, but we don’t have much time. Besides, my instincts are almost never wrong. You know this, Demon Spawn.” Jason snorted.

“Alfred’s kitchen would seem to disagree.” Semblances of smiles appeared on everyone’s face, except for Tim’s, who sported a pout.

“How was I supposed to know that the spoon was in the bowl?!”

“Alfred told you, like, five times, Timmers.”

“It was 7 in the morning! I hadn’t had my coffee! It’s not my fault.” A huff.

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

“UGH!”

-----

“Peter?” Dick knocked on the door, voice and eyes soft. “Peter, are you there?” Silence met his questions. “We think we’ve made headway on where Harley is.” Still no reply. “Alright, well, I just wanted you to know.” Hurt was mirrored in his tone and Dick hesitated at the door, wanting to just burst in but he knew he couldn’t. He had already been cruel (any act of aggression against Peter was already labelled cruelty) to him earlier and didn’t want to fan the flames. “Call us if you need us.” The ‘call me if you need me specifically,’ was unsaid but understood.

Too bad he was talking to an empty room.

“Did Peter say anything?” Bruce asked as he watched his son descend the stairs once more. Dick shook his head and Bruce clapped his shoulder. “Head up, chum. Peter will forgive you. I know it. Besides, you could use Harley as leverage. Save her but for the price of staying with us. I’m not entirely sure I like the thought of him leaving either.” Dick raised an eyebrow. It was rare for Bruce to admit something so emotional (emotional for this family. We all know they literally have the emotional capacity of a fucking packing peanut. Like, collectively.).

���Maybe. We’ll see. Is everyone ready to go?” The head of the household smirked.

“Yup. We have several locations saved and we’ll need to split up when we get there.” Dick nodded, a similar grin on his face.

“Alright then. Let’s go put an end to this joke once and for all.”

-----

“Did we really need to contact him though?!” Tony whined at his husband, completely disregarding the man clad in black, green, and gold standing in front of them.

“I appreciate the love, Stark. And might I remind you that I am the one who volunteered to help you retrieve your son?” Tony scowled at the God of Mischief.

“You’re only helping because you like Peter.” Loki shrugged, a smug smile on his face.

“Yes, I suppose I am. You’re lucky I like the little spider.” The genius rolled his eyes, aware of his husband rolling his own eyes at him.

“Whatever. What do we do?” Loki smirked.

“You tell me what you know and we get to work.”

Tony grumbled.

“Better be quick.”

He just wanted his son back.

Previous: Part 6

Next: Part 8

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 6: 

Harley’s head lolled onto Peter’s shoulder as they settled into one of the comfortable couches in front of the fire. Damian was turned away from both of them, not at all curious about their new guests. There was a suspicious heat to his face, however.

‘Must be the fire,’ he thinks sullenly. Soft growls and barks were heard in the corner as Piper, who had situated with Titus, attacked and viciously gnawed with her blunt puppy teeth at his wagging tail, the Great Dane lazily keeping her entertained.

Bruce sat in an armchair that seemed to shrink with his hulking figure crouched in it. Dick and Jason boxed Peter and Harley into the couch, sitting on both sides of them, Jason to Harley’s side and Dick to Peter’s. Tim sat next to Damian, sipping on his hot beverage. Alfred had excused himself to get two guest rooms and a snack ready.

“You must be quite famished after that catastrophe. Don’t worry one bit. I will be back. Excuse me.”

“So,” Dick said, throwing an arm over Peter’s shoulders, “wanna tell us what that was about?” Tim sat forward in interest.

“Yeah, why did the Joker quite literally crash into Harley’s apartment building?” Peter raised an eyebrow at the slightly taller male.

“How did you know?” Tim smirked smugly, and waved his phone in the air. “You hacked into the security cameras?” The second youngest Wayne shrugged.

“It’s not that hard.” It was Peter this time, who smirked, which threw Tim for a loop.

‘Him and Ned would be great hacking buddies,’ Peter thought, an ache present in his chest when he thought about his best friend. He wondered if he was doing okay in his world, and if he was missing Peter at all.

“Peter?” Tim asked, snapping Peter out of his small head space.

“Yeah,” he said, looking around and realizing that everyone was staring at him, save for Harley who was still leaning against him. “Yeah, sorry, I- uh,” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with the arm Harley wasn’t on, “got a little lost for a second there.”

“That’s okay,” Dick assured gently, “what were you thinking about?” Peter, not turning towards him, answered.

“A world far away from this one.” There was a far away look in his eyes, one that the Wayne siblings did not appreciate. It seemed like it made him too sad for their liking, and with one look sent over Peter’s head, Jason subtly elbowed Harley awake. While it would’ve fooled a normal person, Peter was far from normal. He felt the movement of Harley’s body and he glared at Jason, who’s smile was a tad too innocent. Harley snorted herself awake (adorably, Peter should add) and her head lifted off his shoulder.

“Wha?” The dazed and groggy look in her eyes made Peter turn his glare into a little giggle. The platinum blonde’s head snapped toward the sound and she squealed.

“Puppy!” Her arms lifted over his shoulders and she hugged his neck, smacking a kiss to his cheek. Peter gave her a small smile, ignoring Dick’s pout.

“Hey Harls,” he said softly, knowing that this was likely the start of shock that would turn into another manic episode. It wouldn’t have been the first time it happened, but she seemed to get over quickly last time (as quickly as one can). Harley opened her eyes and observed her surroundings before adopting a fearful look on her face and jumping into Peter’s arms.

Peter tried not to wince when it aggravated his wounds that had yet to heal (he wasn’t a monster, he could still be in pain from a few cuts). Instantly, he patted her back.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe.” Harley squeezed tighter and it seemed like her happy visage was gone, and instead, replaced by remorse.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, trembling. Peter’s heart broke for his best friend, not for the first time that night.

“It’s not your fault,” he told her, “it’s your ex’s.” That made Peter think for a bit. A while back, it seemed like Harley knew the Wayne’s and their associates (at this point in time, things had started becoming a bit obvious to Peter about Bruce Wayne’s true career, though many things had stayed the same. The enemies for one, and the intention to protect for another.), which was suspicious to Peter. It led him to the Joker. Harley is a good person and wasn’t likely to get involved with them, if they’re mob bosses in this world.

Even before he knew her personally, he also knew a bit of Harley Quinn’s backstory. Everything started the day she met the Joker. Naturally and even more reasonably, that would be the case here as well. The Joker and Batman are mortal enemies, hence Harley was Bruce’s enemy as well (at least before she got involved with Peter, who had gotten involved with the Wayne syndicate. It made him shiver to address them like that).

“Mr. Wayne?” Bruce’s head turned to show that he had his full attention.

“Bruce, Peter,” he corrected gently, “what is it?”

“How much do you know about the Joker?” A careful look was passed around, one he’s seen being passed between Bucky, Natasha, Clint, and other Avengers who were too observant for their own good. He was sure that he wasn’t supposed to notice but being around those kinds of people, it’s impossible to not pick something up.

“Not much,” a little note of hesitancy was held.

‘He knows more than he’s letting on,’ he thought while gazing at Bruce’s face, ‘Joker is his nemesis. Of course he’d know everything.’ But something about this seemed a bit off putting to Peter.

Batman in this world may be a part of the mob but his priority was still to rid the streets of crime (in his own backwards-ass way), so if Peter needed information, considering that at least some of the Wayne children cared for him, Bruce should be able to give it up. So why wasn’t he?

‘Unless,’ he paused, ‘there’s nothing to give up.’ It’s an angle he should work more. In the meanwhile, he should also start gaining Bruce’s trust.

“Does Commissioner Gordon know anything?”

“He’ll probably know more than I do.”

“Sure. I’ll talk to Barbara and see if I can get his number.”

“We can give it to you,” Dick was quick to rush in. Peter gave him a small smile.

“Thanks Dick, but I think it’d be more appropriate to get it straight from them.”

‘I don’t want to owe you anything,’ he supplied in his own brain while bringing out his phone and shooting a text to his red-headed friend. Once he was done, he noticed that Harley had stopped trembling. Lifting her head from his neck, he saw that she was asleep.

“Actually, I also think that it’s a good time for me and Harley to turn in for the night.” Coincidentally, Alfred came in as he said those words, a couple of ham and egg sandwiches on a silver tray. The smell of light salted eggs and honey ham wafted towards his highly sensitive nose and his stomach rumbled loudly. He hadn’t had much to eat that day. Yet another reason as to why he’ll never be able to fight crime here. No food. There was an awkward pause before those around him burst into laughter. Bruce let out a small chuckle and Damian still had his head turned away. Peter blushed.

‘How embarrassing.’

“We’ll also take those sandwiches to-go please.”

-----

A violent jerk next to him had Peter sitting up with an urgency. Harley gasped, her breath coming out short and fast, and Peter was quick to reach for her shoulder and called out her name, as a reminder of him being there. He didn’t want to startle her into more of a panic than she was already in.

“Harley?” He called, brows furrowed. “Harley? Hey. Harls. I’m here.” His best friend cradled her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with a jarring consistency that reminded him of his aunt’s when his Uncle Ben had died. He squeezed her shoulder gently and gathered her into his arms. A small sob escaped her and Peter shushed his friend, a comforting hand running up and down her back. “I’m here. I’m here,” he reassured her.

Small sniffles and sobs were pressed into his neck before a watery voice spoke.

“Promise?” There was a hesitant pause from him. Could he really promise?

“Yeah,” he agreed finally, “I promise.” The reward for the obvious answer was Harley snuggling further into his embrace. He promised her. However, actions spoke louder than words. So the question really is, would he be able to keep it?

-----

Peter yawned and trudged downstairs, leaving Harley to sleep in a bit more. The rest of the night was spent contemplating and overthinking until his head hurt while his best friend slept on with the occasional sniffle. Needless to say, he was tired.

“Oh, you’re up!” A chipper voice greeted him at the base of the stairs. He met the blue eyes of his least favorite Wayne at the moment. However, considering this was his house, he shouldn’t disrespect him.

“Yup,” he tried to sound as perky (failing, obviously).

“You know, if you need more rest, you should take all the time you need.”

“Yeah, I would but I have to go to work. I don’t have many sick days yet.” Dick grinned down at him, something he was slowly getting used to.

“Don’t worry about that, my dear! You have the rest of the week off!” If Peter was holding something in his hands, he would’ve dropped it at that moment. He took a small pause in stride to process that statement.

“What do you mean ‘I have the rest of the week off?’” Dick, now walking a little distance in front of Peter, turned around and looked at him weirdly.

“I mean that you have the rest of the week off? Why? Is that weird?” The sweet smile on his face left much to be desired. Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It would take all his patience to deal with this.

“I mean, how, Dick?” An innocent tilt of the head. A bright smile that Peter was sure led people to their ultimate demise before. The feeling of his Spidey Sense coming to life. His shoulders tensed minutely, realizing that there was someone behind him.

“We took care of it for you.” A deep voice said and Peter whirled around to face the head of the Wayne household.

“Mr.-” A stern look stopped him in his tracks. “Bruce,” he amended with a sheepish smile, “what exactly do you mean when you say ‘you took care of it for me?’” The tall man shrugged, a devilish smile on his face. He could see where his first son came to get his charismatic ways.

“We called you in sick.” It was almost as if it wasn’t computing for Peter.

“But I don’t have any sick days saved.” Bruce shrugged again.

“Well, now you do.” That left Peter in dumbfounded silence. Both father and son chuckled at the look on his face (it was a cute one, Dick would assure) before the brown haired boy found his voice again, noting the faint footsteps and feeling of impending danger that approached.

“Do I want to know?”

“Best that you don’t,” another voice said behind him, Tim, he recognized. Peter let his eyes roll back into his head and let it loll back, stretching his neck in the meantime. A series of cracks occurred and Peter let out a sigh of relief.

“Alright, you know what? It’s too early for me to want to know what happened. Maybe after I’ve had coffee or something.” Tim, holding his own coffee, placed a hand over his heart, a little smile on his face.

“A man after my own heart.” Peter peeked out of one eye and decided to tease a bit. He blew a kiss and smiled at the resulting laugh. “Walk with me?” He opened both eyes to see Tim offer an arm to him, the look of a proper gentleman (if that gentleman was as sleep deprived as possible) on his visage. With a grin, he took the arm offered and both men walked through the open door to the dining room. Behind him, he hears Damian’s voice say,

“Father? Why does Grayson have such an insipid look on his face?” It took everything in him to not laugh out loud.

-----

Peter sat in the lounge room of the Wayne’s club, the entire Wayne family around him, save for Damian, Bruce and Jim, because they had other things to do. In his lap was a textbook on advanced quantum physics and the theory of space and time, his brows furrowed in concentration.

As far as he knew, Dr. Strange could travel between worlds and would do so once he knew where Peter was. The balance was important to the good doctor after all. Even then, it didn’t hurt to gain more knowledge about the evidence of the multiverse.

Jason and that redhead from the gym were behind him playing darts, while Dick and Tim watched with amused eyes as the redhead, Roy Harper as Peter had come to know him, beat Jason with relative ease. The second eldest Wayne scowled as the others snickered around him. Another man hung around Tim, seeming the closest to him and Steph.

Yet another black-haired, blue eyed guy, complete with shaggy hair that hung in his eyes and a fade in the back. He wore large, round sunglasses and his ears were pierced severely. He gripped Peter’s hand tightly when they shook, and he introduced himself as Connor, Kon as he insisted Peter call him. His anxiety amped itself up in his presence, and where he was more or less used to the reactions to the Wayne family, he was still cautious.

From his meager knowledge about the DC Universe, he knew Roy Harper as Arsenal, formerly Speedy, Green Arrow’s sidekick, and Kon as Superboy. If Batman and his Robins kept their names here, in the Mafia-verse (as Peter so aptly calls it now), it was likely that they also had the same monikers.

At this point in time, a few days had passed since he had come to stay at Wayne Manor and got acquainted with more people from, what Peter was guessing their shadier dealings. Harley was absent today because she had some things to straighten out. She hadn’t left his side for long since that day but she reluctantly did today and Peter was concerned. He knew his best friend could take care of herself but he couldn’t help but worry.

It was then that he thought about what the last few days brought him. Since he hadn’t really had any time off from work, Steph, Dick and the other Wayne kids took turns showing him around the Manor and around Gotham. It amazed Peter. There was so much more than he realized. They also went to the popularized shopping and club district, spending as much as they wanted.

By they, Peter meant the Wayne’s because he did not have enough money to buy the things sold in that particular part of the city. And he wouldn’t accept any charity, he was clear about that before. Despite that, however, it seemed the Wayne’s didn’t listen. If he said he didn’t need or want anything, they threatened to buy everything in the store. When he finally acquiesced and got something, they insisted that that couldn’t be enough.

“A Wayne entering the store and not buying anything? Preposterous,” Dick said, a grin on his face.

“Yeah. Besides, angel, if we don’t buy anything, it’s bad for business. Rumors would spread.” Feral amusement lit up Jason’s features while Tim smirked in the background, Steph tight to his side. Harley hung off his shoulders, relaxed and obviously having fun. Peter, in the meanwhile, was not.

“BUT WE CAN’T BUY AN ENTIRE STORE’S WORTH OF THINGS!” Damian, leaning onto the counter with a nervous looking cashier, shrugged, eyes sharp and yet, laughing. His voice held some form of enjoyment. This made him sick to his stomach. Is this what rich people did?

“It’s been done before.” There was a moment before Peter exploded.

“WHAT?!” Needless to say, they bought all the merchandise in the store. And then some.

Peter returned to Wayne Manor owning more than he had ever had in his life. A new phone, watch, electronics, wardrobe (after hours and hours of Steph and Dick twirling him this way and that, having him try on things, catering to their whim. The manager was helpless to their wrath, and so was Peter.).

The sudden and faint sound of leather being poked reached his ears, snapping him out of his reverie and he knew that someone had nudged Kon, seeing as he was the only one wearing a leather jacket. A small moment passed before Kon cleared his throat. Peter lifted his head to meet his interested eyes.

“So Peter,” he started. Peter tilted his head.

“Yes Kon?” The lilt in the question paired with large, innocent looking eyes and a sweet smile made Kon blush a bit. He cleared his throat again, aware of the jealous glares that were subtly directed towards him.

“Where are you from?”

“Queens. You?”

“Smallville, Kansas, but I was born somewhere else.”

“Adopted?” Peter asked.

“Something like that. So how’d you get to know the Waynes?” Peter fingered the page of his textbook.

“Through a mutual friend, Slade Wilson. Maybe you know him?” The shocked look on Kon’s face was quite funny and Peter just stopped himself from smiling.

“You know Deathstroke?” Peter shook his flattened hand.

“As a friend, not a business contractor. We met at the bar I work at.” Kon filled out his lips into the shape of an ‘o’ and nodded.

“So then, I suppose you know what he does.” Peter nodded.

“Not the full extent, but vaguely, yes.” An awkward silence fell between them, even with the laughter that surrounded.

“So, what’re you reading about?” Peter lifted his book for him to see the cover. “Advanced Quantum Physics? Smart guy, huh?” Peter lifted one shoulder in a half shrug.

“I mean, not really? I’m just good at this stuff.” Steph snorted, teetering on the back of the couch.

“What a liar. You’re really smart Pete. You should start owning it.” Peter shrugged again and Kon nudged the second youngest Wayne next to him.

“Sounds like you, buddy.” Tim hummed, seeming amused as he watched the interaction between Kon and Peter. The look didn’t leave his face as he stood up and walked over to Peter.

“Speaking of being smart, Peter? Can you help me with this?” The chestnut haired boy quirked an eyebrow, aware of the obvious ploy that was happening and he was nervous about letting it play out.

“Sure. I’m not sure I’ll be of much help, but I’ll try.” Steph cooed, leaning her elbow on her knee and brushing a strand of curly blonde hair out of her pretty face.

“Always our humble boy.” Peter reached over and slapped her knee before she saw it coming, dislodging her arm and making her face plummet towards the ground before she righted herself. She cursed playfully at him as he laughed and walked to join Tim at the long table. A whiteboard was situated at the end of it.

About fifteen minutes later, Tim and Peter had nearly figured out everything that the second youngest Wayne needed help on, Kon and Steph joining (after she finished sulking) at Tim’s side.

“So, I was thinking that this-” Peter pointed to a statistic on a spreadsheet before the sound of something metal bouncing off wood caught his attention. His ears perked up and he could hear Roy and Jason’s voices yelling across the space and footsteps starting to stomp towards him. Suddenly, everything was in slow motion.

His Spidey Sense activated, anticipation gearing his systems as the feeling of anxiety got bigger and bigger and bigger still. The three across from him joined in, their voices creating a cacophony that Peter let sink into the background. The slice of metal through air made him tense his shoulders and with the speed gifted from the spider bite, Peter lifted his hand and caught the object that was hurtling towards him, fingers spanning across the grip, the edge of the dart a mere inch away from his temple.

Everything was no longer in slow motion and his Spidey Sense died down. Footsteps halted and a tense silence hung in the air. Peter looked at the dart that he held in his hands and up to Jason and Roy, who were staring at him in confusion. He glanced towards the three sitting across from him and saw the same look etched onto their faces. A few more moments of quiet passed before someone spoke up.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Jason asked, jaw clenched. Peter floundered.

“I-” He shrugged helplessly, looking around in nervousness, “I don’t know. I kind of just-” he mimed what happened and shrugged again, a lost look on his face.

“You kind of just caught a dart in mid-air?”

“Yes?” He knew he was being less than convincing but he didn’t know how to act in this situation. Back home, everyone already knew about his powers and he didn’t need to explain when he did weird shit like that.

“How?!” Roy looked incredulous. Peter was really happy that Bruce wasn’t here.

“Natural talent?”

He really needed to work on his lying skills.

-----

“Tony,” Stephen gritted his teeth, “it’s been three days.”

“We haven’t found Peter yet.” The doctor sighed at his wonderfully caring, loving, and infuriatingly stubborn husband.

“You haven’t slept.” Tony sipped his coffee, a dead yet still alive look in his eyes.

“I’ll sleep when we’ve found Peter.” Stephen’s eye twitched and he bit back another sigh. He came forward from his perch behind his husband’s back and wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist, smirking when he felt Tony tense.

“Peter wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself. He’d want you to put your health first.” Seemingly ignoring him, Tony mumbled into his coffee.

“Stupid teenagers. Making their dad worry.” The rest was unintelligible by his ears and Stephen rolled his eyes.

“Wherever he is, darling, he’s fine.” Tony suddenly slammed his coffee mug down onto the table and violently turned towards his husband, scowl deepening when Stephen didn’t even move an inch. He just raised an eyebrow at him.

“Did your Wizard Tingle tell you that? How can you be so sure, Stephen?! He could be dead for all we know!” The blue eyed man scowled right back down to his husband.

“He’s not dead, Tony. I know for sure.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t know, so I’m not going to rest until I find my son.” Tony turned back around and continued tinkering around with the dimensional travelling device he was concocting.

If he could make a time traveling machine to go and stop an evil grape with a panini bread chin from eliminating half of the universe, he should be able to do this. “In the meantime, sweetheart,” the endearment was stressed and said through clenched teeth, “keep searching through the universes, dimensions, or whatever. Please. We need to find him.”

Stephen’s eyes softened. He really loved his husband. While the media made it seem like he was self-absorbed and didn’t care about anyone but himself, it was really the opposite. He cared so much that he was willing to go to the ends of the earth for his children. He had the scars to prove it.The doctor moved forward and leaned his head heavily onto the genius’ shoulder, letting his breath fan across the back of his neck.

“If I continue to search,” he whispers, “will you please go to sleep?” Tony was silent for a minute before he released the tension in his form, slumping in defeat.

“Do I have a choice?” Stephen made a humming noise.

“Well, I mean, you definitely have the choice to ignore what I say, but I will do what I have to.” Tony grumbled some more but Stephen knew that it was all in good fun.

“Fine. But you have to keep looking.” Stephen smiled at the brunette’s back as he left the lab and he called after him.

“Promise, honey!” Once he was sure Tony was out, he looked towards the ceiling. “FRIDAY.”

“Yes, Dr. Stark-Strange?” A small smile came upon his face as he heard his name. What an incredible feeling, to have his name in conjunction with the man he loves.

“Lock down the lab until he gets at least a full eight hours of sleep. Sleep Protocol.”

“Of course.” Then, Stephen opened a portal and stepped into his room to meditate. He promised his husband and it wasn’t like he wouldn’t have done it anyway. Peter was like his own son. He cared for Peter and he wasn’t stopping until Peter was found.

-----

“So,” Harley popped her bubble gum obnoxiously, “I heard from a little birdy that my Puppy did something badass today.” Peter snorted.

“Did you? Lemme guess. Steph?” Harley smirked from her perch on the bathroom sink.

“Spot on as always, Pup. So,” she tilted her chin coyly, bringing her knees up to her chest, “what happened?”

“Nothing much. I just stopped a dart from hitting me. That’s all.” Peter finished washing his hands and left the bathroom with Harley in tow, pouting at the lack of information.

“Aw, Puppy! You can’t just leave me without all the details! Spill! Spill!” He laughed, the sound echoing down the long hallway as they walked towards the dining room.

“It really was nothing! Also, how are you so chipper?” Harley tsked, as if the last few days, if not weeks, weren’t immensely hard on her.

“In my line of work, we need to get over things very quickly. This is no exception. And stop changing the subject!” The argument continued until they reached the dining room.

“Look Harley! There’s nothing to tell you other than the fact that I caught a dart when I went to scratch my head.”

“There has to be more than that!”

“There really isn’t! I caught a dart! End of story!” Those who were already sitting at the dinner table looked up as the duo came in.

“Talking about today?” Steph asked, leaning back into the chair. “You should’ve been there, Harley. It was badass.”

“I know!” Harley whined. “It would’ve been so cool!” Peter groaned as they sat down at the table. The others looked at them, not even trying to be subtle.

“There is literally nothing to it! I happened to grab it when I went to scratch my head!” Jason and Dick grinned while Tim chuckled into his water (Alfred said enough with the coffee. For today.). Damian, who wasn’t at the lounge, looked a bit confused but didn’t ask.

“Okay, okay, we believe you,” Dick tried to placate. Peter gave him a deadpan look, knowing for a fact that it wasn’t true. He also knew that they happened to latch onto this new information, considering that their background checks didn’t yield anything useful. Or really anything at all, with him being from another dimension and all that jazz. Peter sighed.

“Whatever.” Steph and Jason snickered while Harley huffed.

“Not whatever, Pup! I still wanna know!” Jason perked up.

“You haven’t told her yet?” Harley shook her head, looking towards the man with extreme excitement.

“Tell me, tell me!” Jason started recounting the situation earlier, Harley paying attention. Damian typed away on his phone, trying to make it less obvious that he was listening quite raptly as well. By the end of it, Harley was gasping with shock (Jason, the Shakespeare nerd he is, made it so much more dramatic than it really had been).

“That was so much more than what actually happened!” Peter scowled at Jason, who smirked in return.

“Every heroic tale deserves to be told in style, angel.”

“I saved myself from attaining a hole in my head from a dart. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo.” Dick gasped, one hand covering his mouth and the other pointing straight at Peter.

“You swore! You shouldn’t swear. Angels don’t swear!” Peter’s eye twitched, an annoyed expression obvious on his face (though he wasn’t as annoyed as he should’ve been).

“I’m not an angel! I-” The doors to the kitchen opened with Alfred and Bruce carrying plates of food. They placed them on the table and sat down at their respective spots (at the head and the right side of the head).

“You what Peter?” The chestnut haired boy blushed and looked away, the feeling of slight embarrassment prevalent in him.

“Nothing.” Bruce gave him a weird look while everyone else looked amused.

“If you’re sure.” Peter said nothing else and Bruce nodded in assent. “Alright. Let’s eat.”

-----

After dinner, Harley, for reasons unknown to Peter, left, but not before meeting Barbara at the door of Wayne Manor.

“Are you sure you guys will be alright, Harls?” Harley rolled her eyes, an exasperated, but fond look on her face.

“I’m sure Pete. Now go and hang out or do something interesting. I swear, you worry as a hobby. You’re gonna get boring.” Peter pursed his lips, looking adorably concerned and a little insulted.

“I do interesting things!” Barbara and Harley snorted. Peter, in an act of defiant childishness, stuck his tongue out at them and closed the door in their faces, ignoring the loud laughter that reached his ears from the other side. “I am interesting!” He muttered to himself, barely surprised when an arm was thrown around him.

“Sure you are, angel.” Peter shot him an irritated look.

“You know, I’m not an angel right?” Jason looked down on the boy trapped to his side.

“What makes you say that?” Peter looked on darkly, weirdly introspective.

“You attract what you are. I’m friends with a mercenary and someone who deals with some of the shadier sides of things. Not to mention, her boyfriend, a notorious gang member, is after us because I convinced her to break up with him,” he said simply.

‘Too simply,’ Jason thinks. ‘He must really believe this.’

“That’s not necessarily true, Pete.” Blue clashes with doe brown as Peter turned his large eyes up to meet Jason’s.

“How so?”

“It’s not that you attract what you are. What if you are kind but you attract people who are mean? Or you’re loyal, but attract cheaters. It’s not ‘you attract what you are,’ but ‘you attract those in desperate need of what you are.’ Like us.”

Peter was quiet for a moment. Seeing that he wasn’t going to say anything else, Jason continued.

“Besides, even if you aren’t an angel, you’re our angel.” Jason lets Peter go from his side and uses his longer legs to stride in front of him, turning when he is to face Peter. He steps towards the shorter man, towering over him. Jason brings a hand up to Peter’s face and cradles his cheek in a calloused hand. Peter stays still, frozen at the contact. “Whether you like it or not.”

-----

“Tony!” Stephen yelled, bursting through his portal and into Tony’s bedroom. Tony blinks blearily before recognizing his husband and sitting up.

“Hey hon. What’s wrong?”

“I figured out where Peter is!” Tony’s eyes widened, now more awake than ever.

“What?! Where is he?!” Stephen shoves something into Tony’s hands. The genius looks down and squints in confusion.

“Why are you giving me a comic book?” Stephen pointed straight to the comic book, which was titled, “Batman: The Mafia-Verse.”

“He’s in there.” A pause of silence before Tony raises the book.

“Peter.” His husband nods.

“Yes.”

“Peter Parker.”

“Yes.”

“Is in a comic book?”

“Yup.” Another pause of silence.

“What the actual fuck?!” Stephen nodded sagely.

“Wait until you read it.” His husband looks at him weird.

It took Tony ten minutes to read to the stopping point.

“OH HELL NO!”

-----

The bad news came in the morning. Jim Gordon, with tears streaming down his face, came knocking on Wayne Manor’s door. Bruce opened it.

“Jim?!” He reacts with shock and concern for his old friend. “What’s wrong?!” The police commissioner of Gotham City collapses into Bruce’s arms, clutching at shoulders awkwardly but too overcome with grief to notice.

“Babs-” he gasped out, voice hoarse, “she’s in the hospital.” Bruce’s blue eyes widened.

By then, Peter had heard the commotion from his bedroom (now separate from Harley’s) and came rushing down to be greeted by the sight of the sobbing commissioner.

“Commissioner Gordon! What happened?”

“He got to her! She’s in the hospital! And Harley! Oh Harley!” Peter’s blood froze, and his ears pounded. In the background, he could hear multiple footsteps rushing towards them. Peter surged forward.

“Jim! Jim! What happened to Harley?!” Jim could barely get his words through, but eventually could.

“Harley. She’s-” a gasp, “gone.” Another gasp. “The Joker. He took her.”

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Next: Part 7