Spiders come in different Shapes

Laser Tag

By a general rule, Peter tried to avoid bright lights. It reminded him of fighting, the quick toss of a body, and flash of that streetlight, a halo outshining his bruises. An angel caring for his wounds. 

He wasn't against fighting. He did it to save people. But as one of his favorite old books said in a paraphrased, why do I fight? The Outsiders. 

He fought to protect, and for no other reason. Once he asked Tony why he fought. Tony had paused, and looked up from his mess of wires, a sheen of sweat on his face. 

"To make up for my sins."

Once in the brief moment he saw Captain America in the midst of a battle he asked him too. His shield was up, as if to ward away anything, the colors so patriotic it hurt. 

"I love fighting, I love helping my country, but I love fighting too."

Once he asked black widow as they nursed their bruises on the branch of a tree together, blood seeping from his still masked forehead. He asked. 

"Because I was taught too, and instinct isn't easily forgotten."

And he asked Thor, as the lightning once struck earth in a brilliant and terrifying blast. Spider-man screamed and asked. 

"Because I must, Man of Spiders."

And he asked himself, that day in his comfy space, why does he fight? He whispered into the soft skin of his elbow once again. "To help. "

He needed more people on his laser tag team. So he brought fierce MJ and stuttering Ned. 

It was those kind of Laser tag, with huge ramps, and colored lights everywhere. The gun was strapped to his chest. and in the faint light he was able to squint out Annabeth and Percy. 

"Who are they?" Ned asked his frown prominent.

"I don't care." Michelle started at and Peter couldn't take it much longer. 

On the other side of the room Percy was earnestly talking to Annabeth.

"Our reflexes, they can't win, wisegirl!"

"That's the point."

Annabeth laughed as she said that, not because she was evil or found joy in the idea of beating Peter to a pulp. She isn't a bad person. She is confused. 

The gun was soft and languid in her hands, confusing for a gun to be, but it was.

Peter was breathing heavily, he hated guns. Guns meant killing-Ellie's arms were soft and pale, the sun creating shadows, the sun creating heat, it was melting her, it was melting him, they were all melting...-killing was bad, that made you a killed. 

"Parker!?" Annabeth called, "It's starting!"

It was always starting it was always ending-she ended, on the pavement, her bone sticking from the flesh of her neck, her eyes an outstanding white, so stark against the dark blood dripping...-Ned grabbed his arm and whispered.

"You all right Peter?"

No.

"Yes."

Then the buzzer went off and all things went to fucking hell. 

Annabeth and Percy were amazing at it, aiming and dodging, and at first Annabeth thought it had been a good idea. 

Her hands were on Percy's shoulders, her lips moments away from his ears. "We're winning."

Peter had spidey senses. 

And when he did a back flip to avoid being hit? Annabeth almost screamed. 

Who is he?

Peter was caught in the moment, smudged sweat on his face, and leaping and dodging. Then shooting. -in the fire there were guns too, people were shooting at any given threat, Spider-man was protecting everyone, everyone except one-a beam of laser hit Peter square in the chest. 

-he never got shot, almost, with the guns, and the bright lights, and the wall of heat on his back, a bullet found a way in his side, he stared at it for a long long time, before he couldn't do anything, and the blood coated his red suit. Like sin. -

Peter gasped, he never did treat the wound. 

Why treat a wound when it was his only souvenir?

His only reminder it was real?

It's like when you go somewhere, a nice place for a summer, and with no one to tell you it happened, and not being there ever again, it's easy to forget and forgive.