The Crush: A Spiderman x Everlark crossover
Summary: Mild-mannered student by day, famed thief-turned-hero the Black Cat by night, Katniss Everdeen is juggling taking care of her sister and protecting New York City all while not trying to fail Criminology 101. If that weren’t complicated enough, she’s got a crush on two guys - Spiderman, and the cute nerd she sits next to her in class. What’s a girl to do?
Unbeta’d, written quickly in the dark under a bridge like the troll I am, etc etc
Rated: M-ish? Kissing n stuff.
I will never get sick of this. I’m hurtling through the air, as graceful as a ballerina, the alleyway a dark ribbon far below me. Jumping off of buildings used to terrify me. Now, it’s old hat.
I somersault through the air before landing lightly on the rooftop, my black boots barely making a sound on the concrete.
Spiderman lands just a moment after I do. His toned body is wrapped up in red and blue spandex like a present. Even under the mask, I can tell he’s smiling.
“Looks like we ruined their night,” he says, jerking his thumb to where we left two thieves webbed on the side of the building across the street. Their obnoxious voices carry across the street.
“God, do people really say that?“ I wrinkle my nose although Spiderman can’t see under my mask. “So cliché.”
“Very unoriginal.” He laughs.
“I’m a little offended they’re not cursing me.” Granted, the Black Cat is much newer on the NYC superhero scene, but still. You’d think I’d get some credit.
Spiderman is watching me intently, and I assume he’s admiring my new costume. He’s barely kept his eyes off of it all night. I preen a little. I did a few favors for a tailor in Hell’s Kitchen, and he paid me back with this fitted all-black jumpsuit and matching cat-ear mask.
“Where to next?” I ask. The city is spread out like a maze of twinkling lights below us, and the night is young.
“Looks like this building could use some surveillance,” he says, his voice low.
“What? There’s nothing going -”
Spiderman pushes me up against a wall, his hands all over me. I lift up his mask just above his mouth and he moves mine, just high enough for our lips to touch. He kisses me hard, but I barely notice the bricks digging into my back.
Yup. He definitely likes the new suit.
Normally I’m the one that pounces on Spiderman after patrol, but today his movements are urgent, like he wants to devour me. I am definitely not complaining.
His slim hips press into me, making my head get fuzzy. He tastes like sugar and smells like rain. Last week, I was able to make him moan so loud it scared some pigeons. Tonight, I’ll try to make a new record.
I lick the soft skin of his neck and he groans. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
I bite him, scraping my teeth under his ear. “Ouch, that – ahhh—”
I lift his mask even higher, but he catches my wrist.
“Don’t you think it’s time? We’ve been partners for months,” I pout.
He jerks his mask back on and leaps onto the wall above me so he’s well out of reach.
“Come on, don’t be like that.” I cross my arms.
“Are you ready to reveal your identity?” he shoots back.
“How about you go first and we’ll see.” I twist some of the platinum blonde hair of my wig between my fingers. I always wonder what he would think if he saw my actual hair, which is long and dark. As for what’s behind his mask, it’s driving me crazy not to know.
“I’ll see you tomorrow Cat,” he says flatly.
“Seriously? We were just getting started!” But it’s too late, he’s leapt off of the building and is swinging off into the distance, which is a bit dramatic if you ask me. I sigh.
Maybe he just doesn’t like you.
Insecurity twists in my stomach like a knife. But I push it away. Just because he doesn’t want to reveal his super-secret identity just yet doesn’t mean anything.
I climb my way down into the alley, then head towards the Upper East Side, and home.
Unfortunately, my commute home is interrupted. Or rather, I interrupt five men attempting to rob a woman in dark side street. I take four of the guys out easy, but without Spiderman to watch my back, one of the morons manages to slice my arm with his pocket knife. I punch him between the eyes a little harder than necessary and he falls to the pavement, which is perhaps an overreaction on my part, but very satisfying.
When the woman is safely on her way with her purse returned, I sprint home until I’m finally climbing in the living room window of the apartment that I share with my sister.
“Look at you!” Prim is still in her scrubs, sitting on the couch. She eyes the blood dripping from my wound and sets her TV dinner aside. “I’ll go get my kit.”
“I’m fine!” I call after her, and try not to get blood on the carpet as I sink down at the kitchen table.
“You’re not fine,” Prim says. I only yell a little when she douses antiseptic on the wound. Luckily, Prim manages to stitch me up in no time.
“You’re so smart. Why didn’t Buttercup bite you instead of me?”
Prim swats me on the arm. "Buttercup didn’t bite you.”
"Sure he did. The bastard.”
Buttercup, the cat in question, glowers at me from his chair. I don’t remember much about the night I got my powers - just the wet slide of rain on my skin, a dark alleyway, the smell of blood and finally waking up to a this damn tabby meowing at me, as if to say, “you’re late.” He followed me home and hasn’t left since.
“All set.” Prim sets down her needle and fixes me with an evil grin. “So, when are you going to ask out to Spiderman?”
I groan. “Thanks for the stitches, duckie.“ I ruffle her hair and dance past her to my room.
“Come on!” Prim calls, but I shut the door before she can give me the third degree. How can I ask him out when he can’t even trust me? What are we going to do, go on a date to a movie in full costume? I flop onto my bed. It’s tomorrow’s problem. Tonight, I sink gratefully into sleep.
There’s nothing like New York City in the fall. The crisp air, the Halloween decorations on the stoops, and the store displays of diamonds. Ok, maybe that last one is not quite fall-themed, but I find myself drawn to the window of Tiffany’s where I try not to drool over a diamond necklace. My fingers itch. I’ve never broke into Tiffany’s, but it would be so easy. And don’t I deserve a little treat? Apparently, word has gotten around that I’m working with Spiderman, and now no shortage of freaks are crawling out of the woodwork to take a bite at me. Freaking Vulture of all people tried to take me out today during an early-morning patrol in Central Park, the jerk.
The necklace is so shiny, and princess-cut, which is my favorite.
But no, those days are over. When I got my powers, I promised myself I’d only steal enough to get Prim through med school, and pay for my degree. Those days are over.
With heroic restraint I turn away, and march to class along with a horde of my fellow NYU students. I find a seat in the huge lecture hall, filled with the chatter of students.
I’m just pulling out my notebook when a student beside me speaks.
“There’s something in your hair.”
“What?” I turn to see he’s cute, with intelligent eyes behind glasses.
“There.” He plucks a leaf out of my messy braid. “Have you been getting into fights with plants?”
No, but Vulture thought it would be funny to throw me into a tree.
“Thanks,” I say. He flashes me a smile. He has a dimple, just one, on his right cheek. It’s adorable.
“Are you a criminology major?”
“Environmental science and French double major.”
He’s eyebrows disappear into his curly hair.
“I’m a computer science major. Just declared it. I was debating between chemistry and computer science for a while.”
My interest is piqued. I haven’t met a lot of computer science majors since they always seem chained to their laptops in the STEM labs.
“Why does a future software engineer need to take Criminology 101?”
He fiddles with his pen. “Why are you taking this class? It’s not exactly a French major course requirement.”
I can’t tell him it’s to help support my, uh, extracurriculars. He lets the question hang, and neither of us move to answer.
“What else are you taking?” I finally ask.
“Calculus, physics, Python. Oh, and photography.”
It’s my turn to raise an eyebrow. That’s a lot of classes. “Why photography?”
“I have this internship with The Daily Bugle.”
I make a face. “Ugh, the Bugle is the worst. Always slandering Spiderman for literally no reason.”
I realize too late I’ve probably offended him, but he shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I tend to agree. But it pays the bills.”
“Peeta.” He shakes my hand, and his bicep flexes under the blue long sleeve shirt that matches his eyes.
I’ll have to ask Spiderman if he knows Peeta. He has some contacts at the Bugle, like his photographer that magically gets all these amazing shots of Spiderman taking down bad guys. I’m beginning to think he takes his own photos and just sends them in to his photographer friend there.
It looks like Peeta about to say something more but the professor strides in and the lecture begins. I scribble notes but keep getting distracted. Peeta laughs at the professor’s jokes, and each time my heart does this weird little flip. I even catch him staring at me once before he looks away hurriedly.
At the end of the hour, I’m packing my bag when he flashes me a smile.
“Want to grab coffee tomorrow? There’s this cute coffee shop called The Bean–“
“In the East Village?” It’s a clean but tiny hole in the wall, and hardly anyone goes there. I know this because Spiderman and I have been a few times to fuel up on caffeine before patrol.
Wait – is this a date? Peeta is smiling crookedly at me. I picture a flash of red and blue and guilt sits heavy in my stomach.
“Maybe?” Peeta cocks his head. I’m starting to melt under his guileless gaze and nerdy-cute glasses. How can I say no?
“No, I mean – yes. Yes, let’s get coffee.”
Spiderman has made it clear he doesn’t want to share his identity. Which I totally understand. But we can’t have a relationship if we’re always hiding behind a mask.
“Noon tomorrow?” I suggest. This date will be good for me. Even if Spiderman kisses me with the intensity of a fire consuming a house, even if his laugh is like a spring breeze – no. Stop it!
Peeta nods, swinging his bag gracefully over his shoulder.
I freeze. There’s something in the sound of his voice, or maybe it’s because it’s so close to what Spiderman always calls me, that makes me do a double take.
For the first time since I’ve met him, Peeta is frowning. “Nope, I can see that was a mistake.”
“I prefer Katniss.” I shrug.
I like it when he says my name. A lot. But I don’t show it.
I turn on my heel and hurry out of class.
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