Chapter Text
Peter screwed up. A big time.
He's screwed up often enough lately. Making decisions while misguided by his heart and completely ignoring every rational part of him that said to take different actions and stay out of trouble.
But Peter was a curious soul, reaching for things he shouldn't touch and playing with fire on a regular basis, disregarding consequences or simply underestimating them. It was in his nature, and it was something that ended up with him getting bitten by a genetically modified and radioactive spider some odd years back.
(It also led to him ending up in space, billions of miles away from Earth — and then, later, to the fiasco of Mysterio and everything that followed it, but Peter elected to ignore those particular thoughts for the time being, for the sake of his own sanity.)
He should've considered the consequences that would arise from meddling in a fight between several sorcerers, but he did not. What was supposed to be a simple visit to Doctor Strange's place, born out of boredom and genuine wonder, turned into a trip back in time, roughly a dozen years back.
Because Peter refused to listen to a clear order to stand down or go home altogether and instead hastily put on his suit and jumped into the fray of the fight. Just like he did when Thanos brought his army to Earth. Stephen was furious — and, Peter presumed, would get even more angry once he'd come to take him back home.
Peter appeared at a strange moment — when the Tesseract activated, presumably creating the perfect tear in space to also become the ideal door for Peter to exit from after getting sent from his end. He ended up in the hangar — the hangar, where the Tesseract was hidden prior to Loki's invasion in the year twenty-twelve.
Speaking of Loki: the God of Mischief stood an odd distance away from him, exchanging blows with some people he could only vaguely recognise as SHIELD agents. Peter, using the opportunity — Loki's sole focus turned to the agents and vice versa — ducked behind the nearest furniture. He couldn't begin to guess what it was, but it proved to be just big enough to give him a second to find a proper place to hide.
And so he did, ducking in a spot he was sure nobody had a reason to check, and settled down to wait for the commotion to pass.
Nick Fury went down. With a shot in the head, the man fell down onto the ground, motionless. Peter had to bite back the gasp building in his throat. He watched, with battered breath, looking at Fury's face, reaching out, trying to listen.
The thing about Peter's senses and enchanted hearing meant that he heard everything that happened in the room with him. Everything included heartbeats, and, weirdly enough, he could still hear a rapid one coming from Fury.
The man's eyelid lifted up. He looked up at Peter, meeting his gaze straight on. Peter's own eyes widened, and this time he had to muffle his gasp with a hand against his mouth. He ducked back behind his hiding spot and sat down to listen, eyes closing shut.
Loki was leaving shortly after, the Tesseract in hand and several brainwashed agents flanking his sides. Peter let out a relieved breath. His hand slumped at his side, and he leaned back against the hard surface of whatever device he'd hidden behind, letting himself relax once more.
He had a moment to think now, to take a deep breath and consider his situation.
He was back in time, somehow. Whatever spell that unnamed sorcerer used had sent Peter to what was, no doubt, the beginning of the New York invasion. He was in a hangar — or warehouse, no matter — and miraculously dodged getting involved in a fight against a god.
Peter wasn't sure enough of his abilities to be certain that he would win, especially not with the brainwashing spectre that Loki was carrying. Even getting away would have been a problem.
Another issue, still present at hand and screaming for his attention, was the fact that he was back in time. An insane thing to say, but considering what Peter knew and what he lived through, not entirely impossible either way. The Avengers did it twice. Doctor Strange protected a stone that specialised in this exact matter.
So, the situation at hand.
Nick Fury noticed him and would no doubt have many questions. Peter had a choice in front of him, the metaphorical red and blue pills: take the red one, run away and safely wait for Stephen somewhere out of SHIELD's reach, or risk it all by taking the blue pill and cooperate with Fury to spill some tea about a thing or two.
What were the rules again? Time travel as they knew it didn't alter the main timeline — it merely entered a branch, often created by the action of time travel itself. So Peter's own future had to be safe, right?
So what would be the harm in throwing a bone to guys in high places in this timeline? Peter, too, had connections — being publicly acknowledged as Iron Man's protégé did that — and he possessed quite a bit of information. He could answer a question or two. Perhaps he could change things for the better — prevent a fight or several by explaining Ultron and the Sokovia Accords situation.
Then there was sound again. A pained groan and shuffling of clothes, a person standing up on their feet. Nick Fury, no doubt. Peter tilted his head to the side, listening to the footsteps approaching him past the frantic beating of his own heartbeat. He reached up to pull off his mask, hissing as the fabric pulled at the taut skin around the various scrapes he gained in the fight with the unnamed sorcerer.
A familiar face leaned over into his line of sight, one eye closed behind the eyepatch and the other fancying a visible note of distrust and curiosity. Peter must have been quite a sight, with blood from his own wounds smeared on his cheek and a red-and-blue spandex suit covering his body.
"Hi." Peter grinned, blinking a few times in feigned innocence.
"Hi," Fury grumbled back, incredulous, an eyebrow shooting upwards. "Mind telling me who you are, Mr Intruder?"
"I'm Peter."
A pause. Fury's expression looked more and more exasperated with each second.
"And who would you be, Peter?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
Fury unceremoniously hauled Peter up from his place and dragged him to his car, pushing him into the backseat. Peter followed with no questions asked, keeping compliant — for the time being, at least — only wincing at the throbbing pain that the sudden motions caused on his fresh wounds from the day's fight.
Nick Fury was a superspy above any Peter had met during his time as Spider-Man. He was secretive beyond measure, lying left and right and using said lies to manipulate people to do what he wanted and needed them to.
But there was one undeniable, unshakeable truth that kept the man in high authority in the eyes of the Avengers, even after the inevitable fall of SHIELD: everything Nick Fury did carried a purpose, and his was genuine and aligned with what the Avengers themselves believed in. Nick Fury was not a tyrant, nor was he a 'villain' in the sense that would make him Peter's enemy.
So Peter pushed past his own bitter memories of the encounter with the man— 'Clearly you weren't ready'— and swallowed the lump in his throat to speak up.
"I will tell you whatever you need to know," Peter said, as honest as can be, as soon as they left the warehouse-hangar place they were at and sat down in the car. "But not at the SHIELD headquarters."
Fury glanced into the rearview mirror, raising an eyebrow at him. If he was startled by Peter's use of his super-secret organisation's name, he didn't visibly show it. "Elaborate."
Peter wanted to; he really did, but he wasn't sure if he could. Would there be bugs in the car, he wondered, placed by HYDRA to detect any and all possibility of being found out by Nick Fury himself? If HYDRA learnt that Peter was from the future, then they would, no doubt, try to apprehend him, because regardless of whether their plans had succeeded or not, should Peter say that he comes from any year past twenty fourteen, it would mean knowledge of Project Insight's existence.
Because at this time, SHIELD was swarming more with HYDRA than with its own loyal agents. Peter had to treat his every step with as much precision as he could muster.
Peter mulled over what to say, thinking of the best way to word his thoughts to make it sound reasonable and, most importantly, convincing. Nothing particularly good came to mind, only a catch and a slim idea.
"Can we make a pit stop at a gas station somewhere?" He tried, sighing to himself and slumping against the backrest. "I need to take a breath away from prying ears. Preferably in the privacy of a bathroom. This was horrifying; I think I'm gonna puke."
He turned to meet Fury's gaze in the rearview mirror — trying, as best as he could, to convey his resolve to the man. Fury paused for a long moment, staring right back at him, his eyebrows set in a frown. Peter raised his hand, fingers indicating the standard zipping motion at his mouth, and then quickly settled his chin on the same hand. He gestured with his eyes to the car's dashboard and turned away.
He missed Fury's reaction, but it didn't matter.
The man was making calls, now. Giving orders to various people whom Peter could only vaguely recognise by name. Maria Hill — her he knew for certain; had personally met her during the Mysterio fiasco. Coulson was a familiar name, too, but Peter couldn't recall where he heard it from.
Nick Fury didn't say a word about him.
Five minutes later, and they were pulling into a gas station, just as Peter asked. Fury, to Peter's utter delight, left the car with him — with his phone laid down on the car seat, the earpiece now gone and out of sight. Peter couldn't help but cheer to himself.
"You seem convinced that someone was listening," Fury asked right off the bat, as soon as they entered the men's bathroom. Peter leaned back into the sink, hands supporting himself against it. "And, considering that you were willing to talk to me, it's not SHIELD that you're worried about."
'Funny you should say that,' he thought. Peter hummed but didn't dignify the statement with a response — it was, indeed, SHIELD that was compromised, after all.
"Now spill," Fury pushed on, not wasting a second once he realised Peter's reluctance to answer. His hand shifted in his pocket. "Who are you, what are your intentions, and how do you know about SHIELD?"
Peter's senses, dull but noticeable, buzzed at the back of his skull. Fury was holding a gun in that pocket, already loaded and — he heard a quiet click — with the safety turned off.
Peter took a deep breath. He listened in, searching for the distinct hum of audio recorders or any curious heartbeats nearby. Once he concluded that there were none, he started: "My name is Peter Parker. I'm also a vigilante, Spider-Man. And I'm from the future."