Chapter Text
6th of April.
That date circled on his calendar ominously, a constant reminder of the day his heart broke.
It is always tough for him, this day; still fresh in his mind as he reaches over to grab his jacket.
It is Peter’s favourite, his smell lingering faintly as Jason lifts it to his nose. His grief amplifying as he desperately tries to remember his love’s smile, his laughter, the feeling of his hand in his own. It isn’t a good way of thinking, he knows that. He can’t help it though, this day always brought out the buried emotions he tries so hard to not let show the rest of the year.
After some time alone with just his thoughts and the faint memory of Peter, Jason wanders over to his phone, grimacing slightly at the missed messages. He knows that his brother will pick him up before they meet with the others, it is tradition after all. A routine he wishes he never had to do. If only he was in New York that day. If only…
A knock brings him out his spiralling; shaking himself, he grabs his keys and opens the door, not looking at the blue eyes that stare at him, taking in his appearance.
He’s aware that his hair is scruffy, not taken care of. His boots are muddy, grime and other substances staining them, leaving them in a state beyond cleaning. His dark jeans have faded blood stains on them. Dark bags sit on his face, eyes a constant low green, humming along in his grief. In fact, the only part of him that looks somewhat put together is the jacket. Peter’s jacket. His most prized possession.
Stepping forward, Jason turns and locks his door, escaping his brother’s worrying expression and heading to his car. He can still feel the gaze as he gets in the passenger seat, choosing to ignore his brother entirely lest his attempts to keep tears from forming breaks.
That’s how their car journey goes. The low hum of the radio is the only thing keeping the tense silence between the two manageable. He is surprised though; usually Dickwing cannot fathom sitting in silence for almost three hours, especially if it’s in concern for one of his brothers. Still, he seems to accept Jason is in no mood to talk.
The ride goes rather quickly and in no time the two men are standing outside Avengers’ tower. It’s busy in the lobby when they walk in. It isn’t the kind of usual busy you would expect though. No. The 6th of April is a day off of work for employees of Stark Industries. It is a day of collective mourning after all; Peter was one of their best employees. They didn’t know he was Spider-man of course, May choosing not to reveal his identity even in death. A way of ensuring peace and allowing grieving Peter as a separate identity to Spider-man for those who knew both.
After her death, they all still choose to honour her wishes. Her grave sitting between her husband’s and her son’s nephew’s.
Instead, those who are in the lobby are only there for one purpose; dressed in all black, are the heroes and vigilantes (in civies) who want to pay respects to the web slinger’s memorial on top of the roof he died on.
The thought still makes Jason flinch ever so slightly, going unnoticed by everyone, too wrapped up in their own grief.
No one really has to say anything. People learnt after the first year that they shouldn’t even dare to approach Jason with grief and sadness, knowing he carries more than enough for everyone. The only other person who can get close to his grief is of course Tony, Peter’s beloved mentor.
They both carry similar grief, the guilt of not being there when he died. Of all the times they argued, of all the times they did not cherish the precious moments they had with Peter. But still, Jason knows that no one can quite match his sadness. Not even the pit. It can’t even hold a dagger to the crushing weight Jason set on his shoulders, often baffled at how to antagonise a clearly broken, shell of a man it knew before.
Unaware of his surroundings, Jason feels Tim and Dick’s hands on either side of his shoulders, gently pushing his towards the elevator, and after a short while, steering him towards the Quin Jet.
He doesn’t notice they have even taken off before he steps off the jet onto the roof that claimed the love of his life.
Now, whilst he wasn’t exactly aware during his journey to get to the roof, he does become very alert since the memorial is in front of him.
The others hang back out of respect, letting only Jason and Tony move forwards, one other not far behind.
Before either can get very far, a bright greenish gold light blinds them all, Jason’s arm shielding his eyes at the sudden commotion.
It dims after a minute or so, Jason slowly lowering his arms as his eyes re-adjust to the normal cloudy day it had been.
In the place of the bright light, a figure is standing there, the guy’s hands pressing into his ears, eyes closed.
A familiar tug pulls Jason forwards, his eyes scanning the body as his brain freezes in shock.
He recognises the body.
How can he not? It’s the body of the man that has haunted his dreams for the past four years.
Jason hesitantly steps forward, earning a slight flinch from the man in front of him. Deciding if he should continue is shot down when Peter, his love, his heart, turns to him. Unable to stay away any longer, Jason launches himself at Peter, stopping only to make sure he doesn’t knock the guy over.
His hand trembles violently as he places one on his shoulder, he is alive and is here and real and…and he’s here with him.
His other hand reaches and gently cups Peter’s face. As he finally encourages himself to look into Peter’s eyes, tearing away from the torn, dirty and foul-smelling clothes he has on, he jolts internally. Peter looks older, that much is obvious, but it is still Peter. His brown mop of curls long, reaching just before his shoulder, uneven in a way that is obvious to Jason, he cut it himself. Gone is his baby face, hollowed out with rough edges, the bags under his eyes only slightly smaller than Jason’s own. There’s a slight stubble under his hand as it rests on the cheek. His skin is pale as if he hasn’t seen sunlight for a good while, or much food for that matter. Peter is alarmingly small, his body almost shrinking in on itself, but Peter himself doesn’t seem to show any hunger pains. Small scars litter his skin, the only evidence that his healing is not keeping up with whatever diet he is on. Lastly, and probably both the most mesmerising and yet different about Peter is his eyes. The face of his love is no longer holding those hazel brown doe eyes he used to cherish, instead replaced by a green eye that shines like jade and the other a golden hue that reminds him a little of amber.
His scan of Peter takes only a few moments, but it feels like it lasts forever as he looks at his heart. Those eyes still stare at him, undeniable grief and guilt hidden between the dazzling gems.
Without thinking much, Jason leans into Peter’s soft touch as it traces his scar. His head still catching up on what is happening.
“P-Peter? Is that really you?” Jason hesitantly asks, his eyes still wandering over Peter’s, fearful that he is just a hallucination brought on by the pit or something. A cruel joke that would be.
A nod of his head is all the confirmation Jason needs before he grabs onto Peter, their bodies crashing together. His face finds it’s familiar comfort spot between Peter’s shoulder and neck. Despite all the dirt and grime, he still smells the same, still smells like Peter. Like his Peter.
They stay there for who knows how long, both grasping onto each other like they will disappear. At one point they are kneeling, but Jason doesn’t care nor pays attention to how they got there.
The only thing running through his head is Peter, Peter, Peter.
A small voice creeps at the back of his head, an entity that has finally found a way of bringing the green back. It whispers quietly to him, telling him that this Peter is not his Peter. That he will be taken from him. It tells him that he doesn’t deserve Peter, that his suffering was punishment for thinking he could have a happy life.
In response, Jason only clings more tightly to Peter, who doesn’t seem to mind to much.
His only reaction is when he feels Peter shifts slightly, worry that he will leave making him get impossibly closer. Peter doesn’t move much more after that, still content to be in Jason’s arms, which loosens his shoulders slightly in relief. More so, he feels Peter press his pretty face into his shoulder, breathing in the leather of the jacket to hide the faint pink flush of sheepishness.
Cute.
There is a voice, strong but grief-stricken, saying something behind him. He doesn’t react but Peter does, his head jerkily leaving his shoulder, Jason already missing the warmth.
His knees twitch slightly at bearing the weight of what is effectively two people, Peter practically on top of him in his attempts to get closer to the man.
Tim says something to him, but his brain only supplies the idea that he should leave Peter’s side.
Not happening.
He makes a noise, burying into the crook of Peter’s neck, eyes firmly closed. Maybe if he stays like this, Peter will never leave again. He can have a second chance. He can have his heart back.
A gentle but firm hand rests on his shoulder, Tim once again speaking, saying something about a medical check-up.
He ignores it still.
A featherlight touch to his cheek opens Jason’s eyes. His Peter needs his attention after all.
His eyes search for any hint of panic or anguish but find none in those beautiful eyes. Rather, a small smile appears on Peter’s face, breaking a chain that is wrapped around Jason’s broken heart. A slight nod from Peter towards the jet and others lets Jason know that Peter is comfortable about leaving the roof.
Jason loosens his grip slightly, his knees hissing in protest as they both stand. His arm snakes around his love’s waist once more, pulling Peter to his chest and returning his face to his favourite spot.
It is a bit awkward to move, he’ll admit, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything less.
He would happily carry Peter, but that might be a touch dramatic.
They make their way over to the carrier, Peter hesitating slightly before they get on. His gentle squeeze seems to reassure the man, a trick he would often use to calm the man, reassuring Jason’s mind that this is truly Peter.
As they stand, he can see the stares from the other heroes. A wave of possessiveness hits Jason and he brings Peter closer to him. Tony hovers anxiously nearby, his hands restlessly tapping his thigh as he obviously wants to hug Peter. In other circumstances, Jason would let him, now though, he isn’t ready to let his love go.
Maybe ever.
A sudden weight hits his shoulder, forcing him to rebalance his stance for a second. Looking over, he smiles softly at Peter’s sleeping face, happiness coursing inside at the knowledge that Peter feels comfortable enough with him to sleep. His back hits the side of the jet for stability as he lovingly stares at the man in his arms.
A few minutes later, the jet door opens and the Bruces rush off, heading to the med-bay to prepare. Jason, making a quick decision, shuffles Peter around and carries him bridal style into the tower. Reaching the med-bay, he stares down everyone else trying to follow him in, eventually relenting and only letting Tony. He may be selfish, but he couldn’t deprive Peter’s father figure the chance to see Peter.
As Peter lies on the bed, Dr Cho and Dr Banner fussing around him, he feels his own dad’s hand providing a firm support on his shoulder, unconsciously leaning into it.
He still can’t believe it.
Peter is alive, and here.
He’s real.
The revelation all but crashes down on him, tears freely flowing from his face as his breath gets caught. Unwilling to untangle his hand, he simply cries outright as a toddler would. It doesn’t matter though; no one is faring much better. Even the two doctors are failing at remaining professional, his dad’s usually emotionless face cracked, tears forming.
Some time passes, and Peters’ arm is now connected to various wires, IVs’ and nutrients steadily pushed into his body. Jason was the one to remove his torn clothes, opting for a clean hospital gown. The scars get so much worse underneath. There are burns up one arm, remnants of stabbings littering his legs, and worst of all, unfamiliar scars across his chest and back. Wherever this Peter had been wasn’t a good place.
It is a terrifying thought at a terrifying sight.
The others are called back in once he’s done, only sharing that Peter’s body is covered in various scarring.
He stations himself by his side the whole time, unmoving only unless it’s for medical purposes.
In the end, exhaustion wins, unable to keep his eyes open after the emotional rollercoaster of a day he had.
Giving in, he closes his eyes, hands tightly holding onto the love of his life.
Slipping into unconsciousness, the pit decides to bide its time, slinking in the shadows of his mind, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Waiting for Jason to feel something again.
Waiting, joyful that the green can now return.
Waiting.