Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-man (Tom Holland Movies)

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Characters: Peter Parker | Spider-man, Steve Rogers | Captain America, Tony Stark | Iron man, Sam Wilson | Falcon, Natasha Romanoff | Black Widow, Clint Barton | Hawkeye, James Rhodes | War Machine, Happy Hogan

Tags: BAMF Peter Parker, BAMF Sam Wilson, BAMF Clint Barton, Captain America Bashing, mentions of violence

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Brief Warning: this has mentions of violence and crime as well as implied canon-typical violence. if these are one of your triggers, please proceed with caution <3 mental health is important! towards the end, there is slight captain america bashing but it does get better and is only touched on briefly

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The first time, Peter acknowledged himself as a hero, it was to a young girl, probably 6 or 7 years old. She had dressed up as Spider-man, complete with little homemade web-shooters made out of some hair ties and little kid ingenuity.

It didn't look anything like the real deal. Still, Peter couldn't help but be moved.

For the longest time, Peter had always called himself a vigilante. Definitely not a superhero. He wasn't an Avenger, after all. But seeing this girl, this kid, walk out on the streets looking like she had worlds to conquer, proud as can be, in her little homemade Spider-man suit, he smiled, tearing up a little.

Catching sight of him, she visibly lit up, like a kid on Christmas, and carefully waddled towards him, obviously afraid of destroying her outfit.

"Spidaman! Spidaman! Hiiii!" waving excitedly to him.

Landing on a spot beside her, Peter flipped off the roof. He said a "hey", expecting her to continue jumping excitedly.

Instead, she started to become shy. As if feeling a wave of nervousness, she suddenly stopped jumping and twisted her foot on the pavement shyly. "C-can I... ask you something... please?"

Crouching to her eyelevel, Peter reassured her. "Sure, kiddie. What did you wanna ask?"

"C-can I be a... h-hero... like y-you?"

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Sam was on his way to Peter's room, having been sent to call him down for dinner before he left for patrol. Strolling down the hallways, Sam hummed. Idly, he wondered what Peter's room looked like. Probably some Star Wars merchandise here and there. LEGOs on the floor for sure. Thinking of that, Sam couldn't help but shudder, looking at his bare feet.

He remembered the last time he accidentally got between Peter and his LEGOs. Let's just say, Sam already met god a few times in this lifetime.

Still, no matter what his imagination thought up, it wouldn't have prepared him for the real deal.

Peter was napping on the corner of his room in a web on the ceiling. Now, this was a relatively normal sight. You wouldn't be able to survive in the tower if you were always surprised at Peter's habit of sleeping at weird places.

What surprised him was Peter's room.

At the side, there was a neat and very obviously, well cared for display of various Star Wars merch and LEGO sets. Beside it was a display case of the Spider-man suit, holograms surrounding it. He must have been working on it before he napped.

Beside his desk, there were two shelves. One filled with what looked to be his school books. The other was filled with what looked to be random books.

Looking closer, Sam could see that they were all books on therapy and other things. Rape, PTSD, Depression, Suicidal thoughts, you name it. He spied a book on racism and sexism on the end of it too.

On the wall, he could see a big map of Queens marked with various notes. Squinting, he could make out the words, 'drug war', 'gang', 'police', 'kidnapping', and many more. Moving towards it, he noticed it was all unsolved cases. This must be the missions he was planning to go on solo that he asked for leave from the Avengers for.

Looking at the other notes, he noted that there were sticky notes of haphazard writing. Some were filled with science and school notes, but most were notes on how to handle panic attacks, victims of sexual assault, racial discrimination, and other things that Sam supposed he'd have to encounter as a vigilante.

Peter really did see things that people, even adults, couldn't stomach. He wondered how he handled it.

Spider-man, as a rule of thumb, was one of the most capable people he worked with. Seeming like he always knew what to do, whether that be checking structural integrity, calming down civilians, handling press, anything science, you name it.

He was so capable that sometimes, Sam would find himself turning to Peter for help every now and then.

He was just such an outstanding hero.

Hero, huh?

Sam couldn't help but remember Peter's first and only breakdown in the presence of the Avengers, or at least the Rogues. He had watched as Peter looked at them with disappointment in his gaze, turned, closed the door to the medbay and walk away.

At the time, he couldn't help but let out a breath. Intentional or not, the kid had let out an oppressive aura, stifling the room.

What does it mean to be a hero?

He couldn't answer. Not that he had a clear answer anyway.

Sam knew that out of all of them, he could probably relate to Peter's thoughts the most. He wasn't what most people would describe as the textbook definition of a hero. Even now, working as Falcon for what could be close to two years, he's still seen as the sidekick for Captain America.

What makes a hero? 

Was it Tony's technology? Steve's strength? Wanda's powers?

Or was it like how Peter put it? Was it being kind? Reaching out?

He didn't know.

Not now at least.

But what he can do... is find out.

Turning to Peter who had long since woken up and was simply observing Sam's actions on his web hammock... thing, he said seriously. "Pete. Can I... can I go with you on patrol today?"

Waiting for his answer, Sam couldn't help but fidget. Peter didn't answer immediately, preferring to observe him, scrutinize him, looked at him with piercing eyes.

Probably finding what he was looking for, Peter jumped off the hammock and landed directly in front of Sam. "Sure. I could show you the ropes if you want."

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Natasha wasn't having a good day.

She had heard rumors of a new red room in Queens this past few months. So, she had gone to check if it was real or not.

Perhaps because she had been working as an Avenger for so long, Natasha acted to rashly; too confident in herself. Instead of finding anything, she ended up being knocked out.

Waking up, she looked around. She seemed to be in a basement of some sort. Worse, she was with what looked to be ten to twelve children with her. Looking at the children beside her, she realized what was going on.

Child trafficking.

It wasn't common in the US nowadays, but she was aware it still existed. She looked at the hazy and unfocused eyes of the children beside her, Natasha couldn't help but shiver.

It's been a few years since she'd been out on a mission alone, especially one that had no relation to the Avengers. Being on the run and, after, working as an Avenger, she rarely had time to go out and do what she was primarily trained to do.

Stop the crime that were too dark, too heavy for normal eyes.

The ones that the people never knew about, else they'd never fall asleep.

Over the years, Natasha and Clint had worked on many cases as partners and spies. Tailing murderers, drug wars, rape, you name it, they saw it.

Still, even with the many, many years she experienced working in this line of work, the crimes involving children were ones she never could stomach.

For once in her life, Natasha felt helpless. Locked in a room she didn't know the location of, facing criminals she didn't recognize, surrounded by children she couldn't possibly carry... she couldn't do anything but look up helplessly.

For the first time since her time in the red room, Natasha prayed. Not to any specific deity, but still she begged for the children beside her.

Please... please... even if it's just for the children beside her.

That's when she hears it. Banging, gunshots, shouting.

Someone was fighting right outside the door.

Suddenly, she hears the door creak open revealing the figure of... Peter?

Fully opening the door, Natasha could make out Peter and Sam with the police, both looking bloody with a few bruises here and there, but alive and enthusiastic. "Hey, kiddies! We're here to bring you home, yeah?"

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An hour or so later, when Peter and Sam finally corral the kids to a safe area and successfully raid everywhere else; when the children's eyes became clearer and they started to sit up straight, Natasha couldn't help but think of Peter's words from a month ago.

I've fought truly evil people. The ones who take advantage of others purely out of enjoyment. The ones who do their crimes with no remorse... The evils I face may not be as big or as alien as the ones you do but they still are terrifying.

That day, even after he left them to their thoughts in the medbay, his words still rang in her ears. At the time, she understood the seriousness of his words but now, in her situation, she finally understood the magnitude of it.

Turning to the two who were drinking water beside her, she asked. "How did you know I was held as hostage?"

Absentmindedly tending to a gash on his side, Sam said. "Don't look at me. I just followed Peter's lead. I didn't even know what we were doing until we were... like... 3 blocks away and he gave me a disturbingly detailed plan."

Looking between the two, Natasha waited for Peter to finish his drink. "Well," wiping the any stray drops of water on his mouth, "I kinda... didn't? I've been looking into the rising kidnapping rates in Queens for a while now. You probably don't know this, but they've been doing this for close to two weeks. I only found out about the child trafficking ring like yesterday?" Nodding to himself, he said. "Yeah, yesterday."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Staring at her like she lost his mind, Peter replied slowly, as if to emphasize his words. "No offense... but... the Avengers... aren't exactly discreet... and they... uh... have a habit of... ehem... destroying random buildings..."

Thinking to the building Steve decided to 'sacrifice' in the name of 'justice' last month, Natasha couldn't argue with his words, no matter how much she wanted to. He was right. The Avengers weren't exactly discreet. But...

"How come you brought Sam?"

Putting his hands behind his head, Peter leaned back onto the wall. "Well, you guys probably didn't notice but Sam has been going on patrols with me every few days in the past month or so. This one was a mission that was discrete and worked with the police nearby, so I wanted to let him experience it."

"Wait, seriously?" Sam asked.

"Yep. Normally, I'd ask Daredevil or Deadpool to be my backup for raids like this since the vigilantes of NYC usually work with the police for intel, and raids if there's any. Since Sam wanted to learn how to patrol too, I figured, why not? You know?"

Staring at this kid, who wasn't even a legal adult yet, talking about raids as if it were a normal occurrence for him, which, she supposed, probably were, Natasha couldn't help but be impressed.

Finding out about his age last month, she, like the other Rogues, became a bit skeptical of his ability, completely ignoring the achievements he already had.

Looking at Sam who had finished cleaning the gash on his side already, she thought to herself, was this what it meant to be a hero?

Sam didn't have as much experience as the rest of them did.

Unlike her and Clint who had undergone training for this type of thing, or Steve and Wanda who had powers no baseline human can compare to, Sam only had Stark's tech and his own willpower to keep going.

And here he was. Trying to learn and better himself.

Natasha couldn't help but be ashamed.

Steeling her heart, she asked. "Are you two going to continue patrol?"

"Huh? Uh... yes?"

"Please... let me join you. I still have a long way to go."

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"Daddy... why are the kids at my school so mean?"

Seeing his kid, tears streaking down his little face, looking so distraught and tired, Clint didn't know what to do. Normally, he'd go to the school, maybe have a talk with their teachers.

Now? He was pissed.

Oh, he was pissed to high heaven.

His son was injured. He found him being pushed down by the older kids of the school.

Nate, his baby boy, barely even six, was being bullied at his school and no matter what Clint did before, he would always be answered with the same thing. 'Kids will be kids, Mr. Barton. They're all just having a bit of fun. Nate is too sensitive.'

Fuck that bullshit.

He was going to raise hell.

Walking into the school, in full gear, complete with his bow, arrows and suit, he turned to the receptionist menacingly. "I'm here to talk to the principal."

In response, the receptionist only drawled. "I'm sorry, I don't think you have an appointment, sir. Maybe next time."

Eyes glinting, Clint took a step forward, releasing an aura that only an angry parent could. "I don't think you understand. That wasn't a question." flashing a disconcerting smile towards the scared lady.

"R-right away, s-sir. I'll inform him now. P-please wait a m-moment." Standing up hurriedly, the receptionist didn't dare to waste time. She didn't know what happened, but Hawkeye looked downright murderous, something she didn't notice when he came in.

Remembering the image of his son, tears welling up in his eyes, trying his best not to cry, Clint couldn't help but rage further. What the fuck was this school doing?!

As the principal walks out of his office, nervous smile plastered on his face, Clint plasters an obviously fake smile on his face too.

"Hello, Mr. Hawkeye, sir. So sorry to keep you waiting." He said, nervously.

"It's Barton. I was wondering why I found my son being bullied right in front of the school." Clint said, phrasing it as if it was a polite request.

It wasn't.

"Well, sir. I'm sure those kids have a perfectly good reason. Little Marcus and Finn have always been good bo-"

Snarling, Clint spits out his next words. "Enlighten me."

Faced with the anger of Clint Barton, Hawkeye himself, the principal could only stutter. "I... Well..."

"Let me make it clearer. You better have a damn good reason why I found my kid being pushed down, being fucking bullied by older children. You better give me a good motherfucking reason why none of you didn't do shit about it!"

Overcome by anger, Clint realized that this principal, this man, probably already knew about it. After all, he already knew the kids he was talking about without him mentioning their physical appearance. He wasn't going to get anything out of this fucking bastard.

Calming himself, Clint took a deep breath. "You know what? Never mind. I'll be in touch with my lawyers, Mr. Principal. I hope you know that I would burn this school to the ground."

Turning away from the sputtering man, Clint says one last sentence before striding out of the school. "Good day, Mr. Principal."

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It was official.

Kids were the meanest people in the planet.

Apparently, Nate had said in a presentation of his that he wanted to be a superhero, just like his dad.

Instead of receiving praise, like he expected, Nate was met with criticism and ridicule. Still, he stood tall and didn't budge. He wanted to be a hero.

That was that.

Thinking of this, of his son's suffering, Clint couldn't help but think of Peter Parker, the youngest Avenger on the team. That day, he said, I've seen normal people do heroic things. I see people buy hot dogs and sit down together with the homeless to share a meal. I've seen true kindness in people.

At the time, Clint didn't understand it.

Now, staring at the face of his young son who dreamt of being a hero, Clint swore to himself, for the first time in his career as a 'hero'.

He was going to be someone that Nate and the rest of his children could look up to.

Peter was right.

Ability, strength, superpowers... in the grand scheme of things, they were insignificant. Above all, seeing his kid dream of being a hero so that he could help others, not for fame or glory, Clint finally understood.

A hero... is someone who strives to help.

Clint swore to himself. He would be someone who did that too. Or he could die trying.

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"What does it take to be a hero? Mr. Rogers? Everyone?"

Startled by the familiar question, the Avengers all discretely look one way or another at their youngest, Peter Parker who was sitting at the end of the couch squirming from the attention.

What does it take to be a hero?

By now, nearly all the Avengers had an experience or two that opened their eyes to hardships of the little guy. Each of them, in some moment or other in the past few months put in the work to understand Peter's situation.

Still, though Peter was aware of the growth of the Avengers in the past few months, he couldn't help but shift his eyes every now and then to Steve. It's been months since Peter's first and only breakdown in front of the Avengers. That day, he had asked them what it meant to be a hero.

That day, they couldn't answer him.

Now, faced with that same question which was asked towards the person he felt to be the most prejudiced on their team, Peter couldn't help but brace himself; prepare himself to do damage control.

Steve Rogers had been prejudiced because of time and well, ignorance. Though it can't be blamed on him because his world was a world where racism existed, living in a war-torn country. Being told that he was the perfect example of a hero, acting and treated like a hero because of a serum that made him different, he was a probably a result of his environment.

Ignorance wasn't a sin.

However, sin, to Peter, is a useless word. It meant boundaries and rules that were established by imaginary beings; by authors that have long died.

Ignorance was, instead, a handicap. Like rose-colored glasses that allowed you to see the world how you want to see it, not the way it should be seen. It gave way to prejudice, to discrimination.

Steve Rogers would probably be, to Peter, one of the most ignorant people he has ever met. Living in an entirely new era, it was to be expected of him to be ignorant on some things.

Thus, Peter couldn't help but brace himself for his answer.

But, to his surprise, Steve, instead of answering, looked to Peter for a moment or two with a strange look in his eyes, and said, "What it takes to be a hero... A few months ago, I'd have answered 'powers', or even 'experience'. But a teammate of mine, our youngest, Spider-man, gave our team a wake-up call a few months ago. That day, he had asked us what it meant to be a hero."

"...At the time, I could only stare. I couldn't bring myself to answer; not that I have thought of one anyway."

Turning towards the camera, he continued. "He said, and I quote, 'I have seen normal people do heroic things.' That day, I had criticized him because he didn't quite fit the image I imagined him to be. He was younger than I thought and so I told him that he's too young for the business and to quit."

Pausing for a second, Steve looked at the host sporting a skeptical look, "In reply, he told me that he didn't need my validation and seal of approval to be able to call himself a hero."

Putting emphasis on his next words, Steve sat up straighter. "I agree. You does not need another's validation to be able to be called a hero. Though society has already defined the meaning of heroes as superpowers and villains, I think anyone could be a hero as long they do what they think is right."

Suddenly overcome with the need to say something, Clint said, "I'd like to add to that. Hero... is a loose term." Shrugging his shoulders, Clint continued. "What it takes? I don't think there's that big of a requirement to be able to call yourself a hero. Like Spider-man told us all those months ago, ability, power, validation, they're insignificant in the grand scheme of things. As long as you treat everyone with kindness, you'd be good to go."

Nodding to Clint, Tony said, "You know, a year or so ago, I asked Spider-man - the legend himself -" moving to put his arm around Peter's shoulders, who was beside him, "if he wanted to be an Avenger."

Hearing the gasps of the audience, Tony paused for a second. "He said no."

Looking at the confused faces of the audience, Tony couldn't help but nod and agree enthusiastically. "I know, I know! He said no! He told me he wanted to focus on the little guy first." Giving Peter a proud look, Tony puffed out his chest, pride for his kid overwhelming him.

"That's it, isn't it? You don't have to do anything significant to be able to call yourself a hero. Don't limit yourself to what society says you can do. After all, I wouldn't be Tony Stark, Iron Man, if I listened to the people who told me to stick to what I know. Spider-man isn't an Avenger and yet, he's still called a hero."

The hero in question, Peter, was doing his best to look as small as humanely possible. He wasn't used to this kind of attention, goddamnit! Internally, he was screaming into the void. He did not like being the center of attention, preferring to fade into the background instead.

Alas, he didn't succeed. The host, Amanda, turned to him and asked, "And you? Spider-man, what does it take to be a hero?"

Blanking out for a second, Peter couldn't help but reminisce to the first time he found a kid dressed as Spider-man.

That day, the kid asked if she could be a hero like Spider-man too.

Peter supposes, his answer is still the same, even now, a good two years later.

"Two years ago, I met a little girl who had dressed up as Spider-man out on the street on the start of my shift. She asked me if she could be a hero like me. I told her what I would tell you now. My answer is still the same. You don't have to be a hero like me. Or like the Avengers or other vigilantes out there. Instead, you should be a hero that is uniquely you. In our society, there is a textbook definition of hero."

Sitting up straight, he said. "It makes us forget that there are other people who save others too."

Sighing deeply, Peter runs his hand on the sleeve of his costume. "Anyone can save someone. It could be a meal on a tough day or a shoulder to cry on when things get hard. It could be doctors who save others on the daily or policemen who lock up the baddies. Anyone can be a hero."

"All they have to do is to first, look into themselves; think of who they want to be, who they aspire to be and use that as inspiration to be better. Nothing is better than the original, after all."

Putting emphasis on his words, Peter looked into the camera seriously. "Never. Never think, not for a second, that just because you can't stick to non-stick pans like I do, that you don't have the power to make a difference, too."

Smiling brightly at the dumbstruck audience, Peter smiles and gives a thumbs up. "There is more than one way to be someone's hero."

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Author's Note: this was originally posted on AO3 on May 2, 2021. feedback and comments are very much appreciated! thank you!