(I was gonna wait to post this...but readercliche is dying of boredom, so...you're welcome.)

Peter laughed as Sam tripped and fell on his face for the third time in the past ten minutes.

"I don't think skateboarding is really your thing, Bucke–Sam," Peter brushed away fake tears.

He growled and kicked the board away angrily. "Shut it."

It continued to roll away until Danny stopped it with a foot. He told Sam something along the lines of 'respect your tools and they will respect you' except in a confusing way. Peter snorted at the short lecture.

"Are you sure you've never done this before?" Miles asked him skeptically again.

"Yeah," Peter looked at him evenly. "Pretty sure."

It wasn't his fault it came so naturally to him. Probably because all it included was balance and reflexes, both of which Peter didn't need to practice at all. Danny was fairly good at it as well, being born and raised half his life by monks that centered their lives on those traits. Sam, on the other hand, couldn't even stand on one. Peter was beginning to think that he was cursed. But what kind of witch would put that kind of curse on him? 'You will never have the power of a true flannel wearing skateboarder!"

A waste of good magic, if you asked him.

"So, what are Ava and Luke doing?" Miles wondered as he swiped his foot on the ground to get his ride moving.

Peter shrugged, currently sitting on his new longboard. They were a lot comfier then they looked. "Luke just got into this game called football, he's been watching it all week. So he's kinda tied up right now."

Miles chuckled, though Peter didn't think it was funny. All he had heard from the Tower living room was 'GO, GO, GO! YES!' and 'WHAT KIND OF A THROW WAS THAT? EASTWOOD WAS WIDE OPEN!' All. Day.

"And Ava said something about studying for midterm finals–"

"You're kidding, right?" Miles scrunched his nose up. "It's only the fourth day of school."

Yep. The team had survived until Thursday. Yippee. Still no sign of the stalker. Peter had been getting code threes in short bursts of time, as if someone was making sure they were still there, only to leave and check on them later. It was a little disturbing and left him feeling vulnerable.

His team and the Avengers had been treading carefully around the others, still not sure what to make of them. Most of the time Peter's team kept to themselves, hanging out in someone's room, watching TV, training - oh man don't even get him started on that one. The training room was so awesome and had way more cool features then they were used to. Namely Life Model Decoys (or LMDs). They could take any shape so they could practically practice fighting anyone. It was awesome.

Peter sighed. "She likes to be ahead of the game."

"Way ahead," Miles agreed and started to ride down the street. Peter and Danny joined him while Sam stumbled after, fumbling with his board and swearing at them for making it look easy. His teammates chuckled while Miles his his grin.

Danny nodded to him wisely. "Practice makes perfect, my friend."

"You guys have only been practicing for half an hour!" He complained.

"Hey," Peter pushed off harder, causing the others to speed up the pace. "It probably took Miles longer too."

The younger nodded with an eye roll, as if annoyed with himself. "Like weeks longer."

Peter's spidey sense tingled and he stumbled on his longboard, loosing his balance. He caught himself in a plank before his nose could break on the cement of the busy sidewalk.

"Whoa, you okay Peter?" Miles and Danny stopped their boards to glance back at him.

He didn't answer, too focused on finding the source of the danger. A scream made him freeze where he was, half off the ground. His friends all looked up and over a building where the cry had originated from.

A thick cloud of smoke rose from an apartment around the corner. It wafted into the air, showing off how hot and large the fire burned there. Peter was on his feet in no time, longboard forgotten, sprinting for the corner.

He skidded around it to see a large cluster of people snapping pictures, taking videos, pointing up. They chatted nervously, some even fearfully. A few had obviously come from the building, wearing hastily put on tank tops and sweat pants. One person had a smear of ash on his face.

A young woman was dragged out screaming by an older man, maybe her father, judging by the ay the woman sobbed into his shoulder.

"No, no! He's still in there! My baby's still in there! Let me go!"

She struggled but the older man had a firm grip. "The fire department is on their way, Lia, you can't go through ten feet of fire!"

Peter's breathing hitched.

"Danny," he clenched his fists as him and Sam ran up to him. "There's a kid in there."

Sam picked up on his intentions first. "Wait," he hissed. "What happened to keeping a low profile, web head? Don't do it."

Miles was staring at the fire with wide eyes, not even noticing that they were having a conversation.

"Go find my longboard. I'll be back by the time you get it," Peter promised, stepping into the shadow of the building next door and slipping his jacket off.

He tossed it to Danny who looked at his determination and didn't argue. "Be careful."

"Careful is my middle name," he flashed them a grin.

Sam snorted. "I thought 'danger' was."

Peter didn't answer. Instead he slipped into the alley next to the burning building, aware of any observers. The fire was on the fifth story, slowly climbing down to the fourth. Judging by that woman's blackened clothes, he'd say she cane from the higher.

He backed up and took a running leap at the wall. His hands clung to the side helpfully. He climbed to the top floor as quickly as possible, finding the least smokiest window to dive through.

He stood, grey and red and orange surrounding him, heat seeming to already burn his first layer of skin off. His eyes already started to water and he pulled his T-shirt up over his mouth and nose in an attempt to block it out. As soon as he kicked out the door of whatever room he was in, he realized he couldn't continue holding it there.

Something caught his eye and he flickered them over to it. A red ski mask hung from a hook along with a pair of skiing goggles. Where anyone planned to ski in New York, he wasn't sure, but he was glad they were dumb enough to plan it. He quickly swiped the mask and pulled it over his face, not helping with the heat, but definitely muffling the effect the smoke had on him. He even managed to grab a red matching jacket that had him burning up, but would protect him from actually being deep fried spider.

The fire continued to rage around him as he stepped out into the hallway at a crouch, listening for any clue where the boy - or anyone else - was. A small cry barley made it to his super ear before being drowned out by a falling support beam. Peter zeroed in on the sound and followed it carefully, treading lightly on the weak floorboards.

He came to a stop at closet door in one of the apartments, in the thickest of the fire. He coughed dryly, despite his mask and hugged his stomach as the fire bursted near him. He had to get out of there fast. The stairs down to the main hall had already collapsed in as well as multiple rooms. He did not want to be in the next one that did.

He shoved his face in the crook of his elbow as his eyes watered again and threw the door open with the other hand. A boy no older then seven screamed at the sight of him standing bathed in red and surrounded by - pretty much - death.

"Whoa, whoa," Peter crouched down and lifted his mask just enough for the boy to sort of see him face in the murky smoke. "Don't worry I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"

"I–I want my mo-mom!" The boy cried.

Peter opened his arms in an effort to get the kid to come to him. "I know, I know. She's waiting for us downstairs. If you want to see her–" Peter broke off into a fit of hacking. He chocked on the air a few extra seconds before gaining his composure again. His voice was hoarse. "–if you want to see her, you have to come with me, alright?"

Another fiery beam collapsed near them, causing the boy to scream and dive into Peter's protective arms. He buried his face in Peter's improvised red jacket protection while the arachnid leaped up, pulling his mask back down.

You know how climbers say the way up is easier then the way down?

Well getting into a fire is a hell of a lot easier then getting out of one.

Not only that, but Peter had to carry the kid in both arms the whole time, so all he had to work with were his legs. If not for his sticking ability or quick reflexes, he would have fallen a while ago. Instead he jumped over burning who-knows-what to find the way out which was who-knows-where.

Come on Parker you just have to–wait. Is that fresh air?

And sunlight. A window! It was open all the way, maybe due to the fire burning it out, maybe someone just opened it earlier, but Peter didn't care. He made his way toward his new goal as fast as his circumstances would allow him.

He really wished he had brought his web shooters with him. He had decided to bring them everywhere after this fiasco.

The boy let out a sob into his jacket as Peter took a minute to cough his lungs up. The smoke was getting really bad, the fire too close. The window still seemed so far away...

No! It's right there! You're so close! The rational part of his mind pleaded.

...right. Escape was a good thing. And a close thing. Let's do this Parker.

Peter dove through the fire and focused on the blue of the sky. Fifty feet...forty feet...thirty feet...he must have been in a hallway of some sort. Ten...five...

People cheered at the sight of him appearing in the window with the boy in his arms. Peter blinked at the foreign response. He was used to looks of fear and screams. Not cheering. He sort of liked it.

"Mama!" The boys cry brought him back to his true task. Not for the credit. Saving this boy's life because he had a whole long one ahead of him that Peter wanted him to live.

The boy reached one hand down at the crowd pitifully, calling for his mother.

"Almost there, buddy," Peter promised him and threw a leg out the window. The crowd below gasped in horror. They were six stories up? Was that man insane?

Yes. Yes I am, Peter confirmed to himself and stepped all the way out.

People screamed, expecting him to fall along with the boy. They looked surprised to see him standing on the wall parallel with the ground, no fear in his gaze.

Just then the fire exploded out the window behind them. Peter spun on the wall so that the boy was facing the ground and his back caught the blunt of the explosion. He hissed in pain as the fire burned through his jacket and licked across his skin. Then he cradled the boy in a single arm and used the other to climb down to the ground slowly and painfully due to his injured back.

An ambulance had finally shown up along with a fire truck with members now working on putting the fire out. People from the apartment were being comforted by medics and given blankets. The crowd stared whispering and parted for Peter as he stepped up and handed the shaking boy to his crying mother.

"Leo, oh my mijo," she sobbed into his head and whispered sweet nothings in his ear to calm him down. Her father stood with a hand on her shoulder and he looked at Peter gratefully.

"Thank you," the teen held his gaze for a minute before looking away. He may have saved one life, but he'd taken more then his share. He didn't deserve the man's thanks.

He turned moved to turn away, but someone caught the arachnid's hand. The woman brought it to her lips and kissed it gently.

"Gracias," she cried. "Thank you so so much."

Peter stared at her as one of the medics moved to take care of her and her son. His gaze lingered even as they took her into the ambulance and comforted her. Her face had been so relieved. Like it was her life Peter had saved, not her son's

"Excuse me–Who are you?" A timid voice asked behind him. He glanced back to find a teenage girl recording on her phone. Her question reminded him of the red ski mask he had on. Thank god it kept his identity a secret as well.

Peter narrowed his eyes at her phone as he subtly patted his pocket and slithered his hand in.

Screw you, Peter thought bitterly as he felt his webshooters. Where were you when I needed you, stupid webs?

He slipped it onto his wrist without taking his eyes off the girl. He ignored her question and instead reached up to the building across the street. Peter shot the web perfectly aimed and launched away on it to the next building. And the next. And the next. Until the crowd, the boy, the fire and his friends all disappeared among the maze of New York City.

—————————

And Spider-Man begins. Peter is finally on the path he was born to be on.

YEEEEEET

- Wanda