Between keeping your scholarship at Visions Academy, managing the crazy workload, your part-time job, and trying not to disappoint your best friend, Harry Osborn, you barely have enough time to breathe.
And your secret life isn't exactly helping.
Working for Wilson Fisk means breaking into warehouses and galleries, stealing priceless art, and occasionally running into New York's favourite neighbourhood vigilante. Spider-Man had become a real pain in your ass.
Until he shows up in your dorm room.
Spider-Man needs you help tracking a mysterious art thief known as Black Cat. There's one problem: all the evidence he's given you points straight back to Fisk.
And to every crime you've commited for him.
Now you're caught between the man who promised he could get your father out of prison, the web-slinger who's getting dangerously close to the truth, and Harry, your brilliant, infuriating best friend who might be becoming something more.
The cafeteria was packed as you searched for your friends. Spotting Harry by the coffee machine, you wandered over. He was making his usual attempt at creating 'chocolate milk', that consisted of hot chocolate powder and regular cold milk. It was considerably nicer than it sounded but it didn't stop you from making fun.
"Morning!" You grinned at him, placing your tray beside his. He glanced over at you, eyes meeting for a second. Then he picked up his milk and walked away.
You blinked at the empty space in front of you. Weird. Even for Harry.
You got your drink and say down across from him, next to Ganke. Harry was picking at his toast. You knew Harry well enough to know when he was upset, and he usually didn't go quiet, instead, he'd get louder. Sarcastic and obnoxious. A pain in the ass. He'd usually give it up after a few days, but you could always tell when he'd been crying in his dorm.
Right now though, he wasn't upset. He was sulking. Maybe something happened with his dad, or a teacher had given him detention. He could be having a flare-up. He got ill sometimes.
Really ill.
You bit down on your bottom lip, frowning. "Harry?"
He glanced up at you, but didn't speak.
"Harry? What's wrong?"
"Just tired."
Ganke and Miles muttered something to each other. You caught one word.
'Library'.
Shit.
"You're mad at me."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Why would I be mad at you?"
"I'm sorry, Harry, I -"
"I waited until 9."
You grimaced. Spider-Man hadn't left your room until at least 10.
"There was no one else left in the library! I would've knocked on your door but I'm stil banned from your corridor."
You frowned, mouth flailing open and closed as you tried to think of an adequate response.
Harry scoffed. "Just say you forgot."
You opened your mouth again. He was right. You had forgot. Because Spider-Man was in your room, asking you to track your own crimes. You'd spent hours last night trying to not completely screw yourself over.
You couldn't exactly explain that right now. You'd fallen asleep at your desk doing homework in the early morning. And Harry had been sitting in the library waiting for you. God, you were so stupid.
"I had stuff going on."
"Like what?" Harry asked. "Homework?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Jesus Christ." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. You knew that look. Disappointment. It was the same one that came whenever his dad would visit, or, more recently, call. "I spent an hour explaining genetic anomalies to myself."
You blinked. "You understand that, though."
"I know."
"So, why were you studying it?"
Harry frowned, staring at you like the answer was obvious.
"For you." He groaned, looking away. "So I could explain it better to you." He mumbled.
Your stomach twisted. You felt bad. Really bad.
"Oh."
He shrugged, picking at the crumbs on his plate.
"Sorry."
"Yeah?"
"Harry, c'mon. I won't do it again."
"Promise?"
"Of course."
He frowned at you, studying your face in an effort to decide whether he believed you. He knew that you meant it. He didn't trust that you could keep it. Then he kicked you under the table.
"Yeah, I deserved that." You muttered, wincing. You kicked him back.
"Hey!"
"You forgive me?"
"No."
"Spider-Man would forgive me."
"Don't bring Spidey into this."
You laughed. So did he. That was reassuring. His sulking must've been easing.
"Nice as this is to watch, we do have biology in about 3 minutes." Ganke said. You and Harry snapped you heads towards the clock, shoving your trays away and rushing out of the cafeteria as Miles and Ganke laughed.
By the time you'd got to biology, tripping on approximately 16 steps, Harry had stopped sulking. Mostly. At least he was talking to you. That was a win.
Dr Connors approached you as you walked in. "Miss Hardy, I hope you've got that assignment this morning."
Your heart dropped to your ass. Shit. You'd left it somewhere in your room. Half-completed. You glanced over at Harry, who was smirking.
Asshole.
He was mouthing something.
"What?", you blurted out, squinting at Harry.
"Miss Hardy?" Dr Connors frowned.
"Yeah, homework, so - about that..."
Harry let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like "Book!".
You frowned, glancing at your biology textbook. Harry nodded vigourously. You opened it.
Tucked in the front cover was the completed assignment, with your name on the top. You glanced over at Harry, who was grinning ear to ear.
'I spent an hour explaining genetic anomalies to myself.'
You could have kissed him.
Dr Connors took the paper out your hand. "Thank you, Miss Hardy. Find your seat."
You closed your textbook and wandered over to your seat, next to Harry, who was biting his knuckle to suppress a laugh. You grinned at him. "You're brilliant."
Harry flushed a bright pink. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"That was literally your handwriting."
"Coincidence. Maybe it was Spider-Man."
You laughed. "Harry..."
"You were gonna get detention."
"You would have found that funny."
"Yeah, but, you would have complained."
"I would've."
"And then I would have to listen to it."
"You would've."
He fiddled with a scrap piece of paper. You smiled, nudging his arm with yours. "Thanks."
"It's not a big deal. Just - don't forget the next one."
Fisk internship. Part-time job. Could be Harry's dad. He'd came once before to drop a Christmas present off. Not that the idea of Norman Osborn at your door was particularly comforting.
Extracurriculars. You had a few that weren't exactly school mandated. Ones that included rooftops. And lock-picking. And safe-cracking. The occasional unconscious guard. And, increasingly, the occasional run in with New York's favourite friendly neighbourhood hero, who it turned out, could be super annoying.
A job was a job. Mr Fisk said that if you kept the work up your dad would be free in no time.
What choice did you have other than believing him?
Besides, you enjoyed it. More than you should. There was a rush in being where you weren't supposed to. Breaking a lock, or running away, wind on your face.
On a heist, you could be anyone. It was the only time you didn't have to be Y/N Hardy.
You reached your dorm, grabbing your keycard to open it. The light flashed green. You opened the door slowly and - What the -
"Hi, are you Y/N Hardy?"
Spider-Man turned to face you, standing in the middle of your dorm. You'd spent months avoiding him on rooftops.
You'd watched him swing past you while you were breaking into warehouses. He'd stained one of your masks with his stupid webs. He'd spent days looking for you after you stole a painting out of his hands (literally).
And now...Spider-Man. Like a foot away from your bed.
Spider-Man.
Actual real life Spider-Man.
He was much less threatening under shitty fluorescent lighting, surrounded by your half-finished homework and sun bleached posters. He just seemed like - a guy?
"What are you doing in my room?"
Super clever, Y/N. That'll make him leave.
"Oh, the people at the desk let me in." He raised his hands. "Sorry, if that's weird. I'm not a creep. Why would I say that? Is that weird? I've not looked at your stuff. Promise!"
You furrowed your brows, shutting the door behind you. This wasn't real. This was a stress-induced hallucination. Thats a thing, right? This was some weird nightmare. You'd took something - or some of Fisk's chemicals had finally got to your brain.
"Are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah. I'm great. There's just - you know, a masked vigilante in my room!" You gestured wildly around. "So yeah - that's completely normal and fine."
"Sorry."
The white eyes of his mask widened and he shrugged his shoulders. You stared at him, then sighed.
"This is really weird, I'm sorry. What do you want?"
"Help."
You paused, hanging up your bag. This was surreal.
"You?"
He nodded.
"Want - my help?"
"Yes."
You paused again. "Dude, I'm 17, and I'm on like 5 hours of sleep and I'm failing three classes. My tutor just cancelled on me and I've got about 6 pieces of overdue homework." You laughed desperately, pointing at yourself. "I don't think you want my help."
Spider-Man laughed. He actually laughed.
"Stop laughing. I thought you were mean to be friendly or whatever!"
Spider-Man paused, clearing his throat. "You're underselling yourself."
"What?"
"I'm here on recommendation."
"Recommendation? From who?"
"Black Widow. She said you're good with patterns."
"I have genuinely no idea what you are talking about."
You genuinely didn't. You'd never met Black Widow. New or old.
"You completed an exercise on phenotypes and genetic tracing, right?"
You paused. That did ring a bell. "Oh, that was months ago."
He nodded.
"For the Fisk internship?"
Another nod.
"And it wasn't really about genes. It was about behaviours. That's why I was good at it. I'm shit at biology. It the human stuff that's interesting. Well, I think so anyways - "
You felt your face getting warm. You needed to shut up. You'd been speaking to Spider-Man for approximately 4 minutes and had already embarrassed yourself.
"Yeah, well, that data got shared with the New Avengers."
You stared at him. "Did I agree to that?"
He shrugged.
"I don't really read the terms and conditions, to be fair...", you muttered.
He laughed.
Ha. You grinned. If Harry could see you now, making Spider-Man laugh. That would make his year.
"I just want you to look at some data for me. If you have time..."
You frowned. "Don't you have like an actual team for this?"
"Uh, not really. I don't - have - many, people - uh - "
There you go. Stepped straight into Spidey's personal life.
He handed you a laptop. It was already open. Photographs, time stamps, locations, security footage. Data on all the recent art heists.
Your recent art heists.
"What's this for?"
"I'm not really meant to say."
"How can I help if I don't know what it's for?"
He paused, nodding. "Black Cat."
You choked on air. "Uh - what's that?"
"A thief."
"Sorry, you need help with an art thief?", you questioned, scoffing a little.
"Maybe superpowered. Maybe not. I think she's behind these. There's been a string of them in the last couple months. I just need a common thread."
You looked back at the screen. A common thread. It's obvious. Fisk. Every job came through him.
"And you can't find one yourself?" You shrugged at him. "Kinda lame..."
Spider-Man shoved his masked face in his hands.
"Sorry.."
"No, you're not."
You grinned. "No, not really. I just felt bad."
You scanned the data again. You could do this. Easy. And help.
And then what? Spider-Man would find Fisk. Find the jobs. Find you. You'd get arrested. Kicked out of school. Lose the scholarship. The internship. Any chance of seeing your dad again.
And god knows what would happen to Harry, all by himself. He'd never forgive you. And -
"Y/N?"
You paused, remembering to breathe.
"Gimme a couple days. I'll see what I can do."
"We don't have a couple of days."
"What?"
"I need this tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Please, Y/N."
You sighed, glancing at the stack of textbooks on your table, Connors assignment still in your back pocket.
"I can't do this - "
"Why not?"
"I've got homework!"
Spider-Man paused. Something softened in him. He sighed. "Please, Y/N. Just have a look. A couple hours, tops..."
This was insane. Spider-Man was asking you to investigate yourself. What were you meant to say?
"I - I'll have look. Two hours. Okay? Then you get out of my room."
"Sure."
"And please don't do this again."
"Ehhhh."
You narrowed your eyes.
"I'll try not to."
You groan, throwing a pillow at him. He catches it.
Duh, Spider-senses.
"That's cool."
Spider-Man tilted his head.
"The sense thing. It's cool."
"Thanks?"
"My friend Harry really likes you.", you blurted. You didn't know why you were telling him this. "You saved him one time. You probably don't remember..."
Spider-Man sat on your bed, leaning his head on his hand.
"I just - I make fun of him for it. But - you know," you sighed, "If I'm honest? I get it. Everyone needs a hero. Especially Harry. And his dad's not really - ", you shrugged. "I don't know why I'm saying this. You save tons of people."
"The boy from Oscorp?" Spider-Man straightens.
"Yeah. The boy from Oscorp. Tallish. Brown hair. Freckles."
"Yeah, I think I know. Norman's son?"
"Yeah." You grinned. Harry would be thrilled to know Spider-Man remembered him. "He's my best friend."
Hours later, scrolling through the data, you noticed an absence.
"Hey, Spidey?"
He shot up, looking over your shoulder.
"You got any info on the actual pieces of art?"
He paused, taking the laptop from you. A few clicks later and they're all up.
"Think about it. Who would benefit from an art heist?"
Spider-Man shrugged. "The thief?"
"You think she keeps them all? Including the massive ones? She's got them hung up in her room or something?" You roll your eyes.
"Yeah," Spider-Man rubbed his neck, "that doesn't make sense."
"These things are usually pretty well insured. The payout's probably - enough.." You shrugged.
"You think it's a set up?"
"Could be, you're the hero."
"Who owns them then?"
You stared at the screen, pressing the filter button. No name. Just a tag. Spider-Man leaned in as the word flashed up.
K!NGP1N
"That's weird."
You swallowed thickly. "You know it?"
"Nope - but -"
Bzzzzzzz
*Crime reported on Second by 4th. Suspected arson.*
"Crap! Sorry, I have to go." Spider-Man snatched the laptop and went to the window. "Duty calls, you know? Uh - thank you, Y/N. I will be in touch."
"In touch?"
And with a thwip of webs, he was gone. You were so fucked.
You interrupted before he could say whatever inevitably disappointing thing he was going to say. Probably another speech about 'applying yourself'. There was always a speech about applying yourself.
"I promise, sir, I'll get it in!"
And you were gone, rushing out the lab before he could give you detention, or a motivational speech. You're not sure which would be worse.
Luckily, the corridor was pretty empty, apart from... a boy stood outside, tie looser than was technically allowed and blazer hung open with all the swagger someone wearing a school uniform incorrectly can have. Despite having worn the same science goggles as you last lesson his hair was - Harry Osborn, your best friend, was annoyingly good at looking good.
You hated him a tiny bit for it.
Or for the fact he knew it.
He was far too pleased with himself, leaning by the door and smirking at you.
You pointed a finger at him. "I swear to god if you say - "
"I told you so."
You bit your cheek to not swear at him. You'd known him long enough to recognise that smug little look.
To be fair, this was the sixth time that you'd forgotten to do Dr. Connors bio assignment, but Harry kept refusing to give you the answers, insisting that you needed to 'actually learn it'.
"Most people would have worked it out by now, you know? The whole managing the workload?"
You stuck your middle finger up at him, frowning. "Most people don't have my workload."
"Of course." He grinned, falling into step with you. "Cause you're on your fancy scholarship with your fancy internship."
"Oh, shut up."
The halls of Visions Academy stretched in front of you as you made your way to your locker, waxy floors and enormous windows with crisp views of New York. A couple of framed photographs of former students who had gone on to become successful. People like Fisk. Or Connors. Anyone who worked at Oscorp, really.
People that always knew they were destined for great things. People like Harry.
They probably didn't forget their bio assignments.
There's a ton of plaques too. Donors and stuff. Including Harry's dad. And Fisk.
Everything sort of gave the impression that you were always being watched by someone much more successful than yourself. It was motivation, sure. But also just a ton of pressure.
The workload at Visions Academy was always going to be crazy; you knew that when you entered the Fisk scholarship, but you couldn't have anticipated quite how hectic life was going to become. Maybe you had bit off more than you could chew.
There was school. And the part-time job. Fisk internship. Homework. A vague attempt to keep a social life. And the other -
"The things you get away with..." Harry muttered.
His voice whips you out your thoughts accompanied by an elbow to your side.
"Shut up, Osborn, you're just jealous that the teachers actually like me."
"Hey, they like me! Professor Warren loves me."
You snorted, fiddling with your locker door. "You mean he loves your dad and his money."
Harry placed a hand over his chest. You knew that expression. "I'm wounded."
"Good."
"You think the cash is all they care about?"
"It's the only reason I'm friends with you."
Harry frowned, placing a hand on his chest and jerking backwards in mock hysteria. He bats his eyelashes at you.
"Oh, Y/N, you wound me so. Not even Spider-Man could mend this broken heart of mine."
A beat. He blinks his eyes again.
"Are you finished?"
He laughs. "Not remotely."
Idiot. You shoved him lightly, dumping your books in your locker. The clang echoes down the corridor. You fished Connor's undone homework from the back of it, half tucked behind the homecoming flyers from last year. Whoever had the locker before you hadn't bothered to clean it out. Neither had you.
"Oh, Spidey, come and cure this ailing heart!"
Harry's obsession with Spider-Man had become a bit of a running gag between you two. The hero had 'saved' him from getting hit by some debris at Oscorp a couple of months ago, and Harry had developed a fixation on the web-shooter ever since. Apparently Harry had been very cool and composed.
You'd seen the footage. He was screaming like a child.
He'd been recounting the story to anyone in earshot, adding in increasingly unecessary detail each time. Last you heard, he'd told Miles that Spider-Man had personally thanked him for his bravery, and that he'd promised to wingman him on his next date.
As if Harry gets dates.
Bzzz. Your phone lights up with a text.
You groan. "Are you kidding?"
Peter Parker: Sorrh. Cant come tonight. Resxhedule????
Harry leaned over your shoulder, frowning at the message. "I mean, I like the guy," he said, "but he's not exactly consistent."
Peter Parker had been tutoring you and Harry, along with a couple other students since September.
He was clever. Like crazily, annoyingly clever. And he has this knack for explaining ridiculously difficult things in a way that makes them seem easy. Organic chem became incredibly manageable whenever he was around.
The problem was getting him to actually be around. Parker cancelled more often than not, and when he did show he was late. And for someone who lives in Queens and works as a researcher he always seemed weirdly tired.
Or bruised. Or both.
Your friend Ganke had developed a theory a few months back that he was in some sort of illegal fight club, and that's why he was always a state. It had spread round the school to the extent someone has photoshopped his face into Tyler Durden.
Someone being Harry.
The stupid thing about it was that Harry thought Peter was the shit. Osborn practically worshiped him. Peter was rapidly approaching Spider-Man levels of admiration.
It was weird. The whole thing was weird. Something was definitely up with Parker, but you weren't sure what. At the end of the day, you didn't really care as long as he got you through organic chem.
"I was gonna ask him for help with Dr Connor's thing as well!"
Harry turned to you, arms crossed, shit-eating grin.
"I can help."
You roll your eyes. "Nope. Not happening."
"Please."
"No."
"I can help!"
You'd let Harry help you with homework once before, when you'd known him for a few weeks. It had ended with him getting red in the face and you almost crying over calculus. He wasn't exactly a natural teacher.
"You made me cry last time!"
"Okay, that's not true. You nearly cried."
You raised your eyebrows at him.
"It was one time! And -"
"You told me to 'just understand it'!"
"I was young and niave."
"It was like 3 months ago!"
"I'm a reformed man." He held his hands up in mock surrender.
You scoffed. "You told me I wasn't trying hard enough!"
"You weren't!"
You rolled your eyes. Unbelievable.
"I hate you."
He grins at me, ridiculously straight teeth beaming in the shitty fluorescent lights of the hallway.
"Are we bonding?"
"No."
"I think we are."
You glance back down at the work. Then at Harry. He already looked unbearably pleased with himself. Pursing your lips, you sighed.
"Fine."
Harry grinned. "Cool, I - I'll meet you in the library after dinner?"
You nodded. Harry threw both hands into the air and let out a whoop. Three students down the corridor turned to look. You grimaced and he pulled you into a half-hug before you could process what was happening. You froze, dropping your phone.
C'mon Y/N, you've hugged Harry before. It's not a big deal.
"Oh!"
He immediately let go, flustered.
"It's a date."
You stared at him blankly. Harry looked remarkably, un-Harry-like, that being uncertain. Unsure.
"I mean, not like that - you - like a study da- unless - no - I -" He paused, mouth open. Then he closed it.
Then opened it again. "You know what I mean."
Harry broke off into incoherent mumbles.
"Yeah."
He nodded far too quickly, then turned heel and walked away. You grinned as you watched hjm go, biting your cheek. Idiot.
"Miss Hardy?"
You spun around to see a woman from the administration office. You weren't sure of her name, Maggie, maybe. Or Marge. Or Marie?
Something with an 'M'.
"Uh, yeah?"
She squinted through her glasses at you.
Your stomach dropped. You'd been sneaking out the window every night for the last four months. Four months without a single suspicion, not even a close call. It was pretty impressive, you thought. But would probably be considered grounds for exclusion by the school board. Not even Fisk could save you from that.
You straightened to look at her, opening your mouth and praying some half decent excuse dropped out of it.
"You've got a visitor waiting for you in your dorm."
"I can - what?"
A visitor.
You didn't get visitors. Your father was in prison, your friends were all at school, and you can't imagine anyone else that would want to actively see you.
"I'm sorry, who?"
The woman smiled. "It's to do with your extra-curriculars."
She was interrupted by a loud yelp from the end of the corridor. The woman turned heel and started storming towards whatever fight was happening. You watched her walk away, jaw gaping.
