Spidey McFly

Chapter 1: Season 4 Peter Parker

A/N: Hi! I'm still ruminating in the USM fandom :3

Most of these chapters will be bite-sized :3 Enjoy these nuggets of USM silliness.

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It always starts with a bright flash of light.

Peter has developed an aversion to bright flashes of light. Typically, they end with him knocked on his ass, unconscious, electrocuted, strapped to a table, magic-beamed, or hounded by news copters trying to get every high-definition angle of him eating pavement as the villain of the week slams him face-first into the street.

Like so many other aspects of this life, Spider-Man had a way of ruining things. Vaccinations were never a problem pre-Spider-Man. Sure, the needle was intimidating to lil ol' Petey Parker, but he'd never jumped off the examiner's table and clung to the ceiling like an anxious cat touching water for the first time. Don't even get him started on drawing blood. Luke has to sit with him and hold his hand, and Peter doesn't have to worry about ripping skin when he sobs like a little baby in Luke's shoulder, shaking his head as Connors tells what a big strong boy he's being. Firm muscles and soft praise do wonders for trypanophobia.

Sedatives and antiseptics were a no-go. Anything that left him loopy and unfocused got kicked out the door. Too many wackadoos like shooting him up with drugs and carting him off. The amount of times he's woken up in some mad scientist's lab was disturbing. His developing somniphobia had begun courting his long-time frenemy insomnia, and the two were going to make each other a very happy couple.

Oh, and creepy laughs. Don't trust people with big grins and creepy laughs. But that's a given.

Bright flashes of light are a pain in the ass and they give him the worst headaches. He groans as he slowly sits up, a ringing bouncing around his skull like serrated echoes. He feels like he is submerged in water, and thousands of little bubbles are rolling across his body. Faintly, he registers the cacophony of shuffling feet and cocking guns as he blinks white and yellow spots out of his eyes. A buzz creeps at the back of his neck, directing his attention to the dozen firearms aimed in his direction.

Heh. Fun.

"Spider-Man."

Peter's head snaps to the side, singling out the owner of such a deep, familiarly monotonous voice.

"Fury!" He jumps to his feet, and all the SHIELD agents surrounding him jump back, the tips of their muzzles cutting him off before he can propel himself up the front deck and throw his arms around Fury's neck. "You're back! Where's Madame Web? Did you—" he steps back, the words dying in his throat, as Fury levels his gun at Peter's chest. "Gee, what's with the warm reception? Why...why..." Peter turns, finally getting a good look at where he's at. "Why am I here?"

He'd been at the Triskelion seconds ago, scurrying across one of the landing pads with the Academy students. He'd dived off one of the high walls, stomach swooping as gravity pulled him down, but before he could shoot a web, his skin suddenly itched terribly. There was a bright flash of light, and...

"Ah, hell," Peter grumbles, doing a double-take of the helm at the front of the room. This isn't the Tricarrier. The screens, monitors, data stations, and control panels are outdated, lacking the state-of-the-art Stark technology they'd implemented four months ago. The layout isn't quite the same either, more stocky and hard edges than the open and stream-lined look Tony had also insisted on.

This is the old Helicarrier. Which means...

"Webs?"

Peter turns. Nova has both his arms up, hands glowing like he's prepared to throw an energy beam at Peter's teeth, but his helmet is gold. Powerman and Iron Fist are braced next to each other, Luke's arms are raised and Iron Fist's fist glows—just one, not two. White Tiger is on Sam's other side, claws out and in a boxed stance, half bent like she's preparing to lunge. The stripes of her costume are a faded gray.

They drop their defenses slowly, though not entirely, as they look him over. Sam's glow dims as he lowers himself to the ground, but he tilts his head, frowning. "Did...you get taller?"

"Ah, hell," Peter repeats, slowly raising his arms. "I, uh, come in peace? Also, I'm from the future, so, like, please don't shoot me."