Peter Parker’s wife left him 3 years ago. Suddenly she’s back and she’s brought some news that is about to change everything, unfortunately that news comes with it’s own set of complications and he’s out for blood.
PROLOGUE: YOU EITHER DIE A HERO, OR LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO SEE YOURSELF BECOME THE VILLAIN
ONE: THE CALL OF A NIGHTBIRD
TWO: MR & MRS PARKER
THREE: THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME
FOUR: SOME SHADOWS LOOM LARGE
FIVE: YOU DON'T OWN ME
SIX: HE'S GOT A SOUL AS SWEET AS BLOOD RED JAM
*SEVEN: IN THE LAND OF GOD'S AND MONSTERS I WAS AN ANGEL, LOOKING TO GET F*CKED HARD
The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Six: He's Got A Soul As Sweet As Blood Red Jam
Summary: Peter may seem like a big tough gangster to the rest of the world but he's still that soft boy from Queens underneath it all.
Warnings: 18+ Only, eventual smut (like real soon), slight fluff and jokes, this is mostly plot, character and world building
Word Count: 4.4K
A/N: This is basically just world building and further character development but still does a lot to bridge the gap between our lovers with their one to one dinner date. Expect some more name dropping and greater universe references and a lot of links back to our initial prologue and Peter's origins of friendly neighbourhood super hero to mob boss. Also title comes from the second verse of Lana Del Rey's Off To The Races, wanted to use both lines but it would have been too long. Anyway enjoy!
SIX
Peter had organised Miguel to drop the two of them off at F.E.A.S.T an hour later. The acronym stood for food, emergency, aid, shelter, training. It was a community outreach hub for the homeless or those in need. They had set multiple buildings up across the city under the banner when Peter first switched from being the friendly neighbourhood crime fighting vigilante to being a criminal in his own right. He still wasn’t like all those other guys though. Guys like her Father, Dr Octavious or even Quentin Beck. Whereas all those guys were solely out for themselves, Peter had never forgotten his roots or his mission to help his community. No, he was more like a Robin Hood figure. At least 50% of his annual profit always went back to the people.
And she had been there with him to set the whole thing up. After that first conversation they’d had all those years ago in the darkness of her college dorm room, they went back and forth for hours about what the people really need. Thus F.E.A.S.T was born.
They climbed out of the car and Miles quickly went round to open the trunk, to a mass of pink cake boxes. They quickly began to unload them from the car. Miles held out his arms and Angel stacked one box on top of the other until they were up to his eyeline. She took the final box out of the trunk before closing the boot. She shot a quick look of thanks Miguel’s way before her and Mile’s made their way to the door.
Her fingers quickly rooted around in her blazer pocket for the set of keys Peter had given her, her fingers holding a fob up to the side door of the building. There was a low buzz as the door unlocked and they shuffled their way inside with the boxes.
“Hey Karen.” Angel said, greeting a strawberry blonde woman as she made her way towards the same door her and Mile’s had just come through.
“Hey!” Karen beamed upon seeing her, an arm quickly raising to wrap around Angel’s shoulder. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Oh, you know how he is, always takes on too many clients and never leaves himself enough time.”
“We’ll have to catch up properly soon.” Angel beamed.
“Yes. We definitely will. Look I’ve gotta run, I’ve gotta get some paperwork over to city hall before they close, but it was great seeing you.” Karen spoke joyfully as she wrapped Angel into her arms once more.
“Yeah, and you.” Angel concluded their conversation as Karen began to make her way to the door, buzzing herself out.
“Okay… so where are we putting these?” Miles asked, motioning to the boxes he was beginning to get frustrated with holding, after all, pink was not his colour.
She rolled her eyes before saying, “This way.” as she began to walk through the familiar halls.
Not much had changed since the last time she had been there. Maybe some of the faces, but she was still surprised to see so many familiar ones. Particular Nurses who saw patients with doctors in special designated consultation rooms, all paid for by the Benjamin Parker foundation, little kids who enjoy coming and hanging out in the rec rooms recognising her, smiling and waving as she passed them.
“Hi, Angel.”
“Hi.” she’d say back.
“Hi, Angel.”
“Hi!” It was like that all the way down to the food hall. A large canteen that served regular hot meals for anyone in need, whether you were living on the streets, struggling for money or simply had no idea how to cook. It was a bustling hub of life and community. Mothers talking over cups of coffee as their kids bonded and played together. Newly divorced men looking for someone to talk to and sharing a table with those who called the streets their home as they swapped life stories. It was her favourite place in the world and her proudest achievement in life.
They set the boxes down on a free table along the back wall, opening them up to display the fresh goods. There was a sudden thud to her side as a small girl collided with her thigh, her small arms reaching to wrap around her waist.
“Angel!” the girl beamed, “You came back.”
Angel recognised the young girl immediately. She had grown a fair bit since she had last seen her at the shelter. “Of course I did.” Angel beamed as her arms instinctively wrapped around her. “Look how much you’ve grown.” Angel commented.
“Look, I’ve got a loose tooth.” The girl said proudly as she used her fingers to pull down her lower lip and show it off.
“Oh wow. You make sure you take good care of it and that it gets to the tooth fairy okay, yeah?”
“I will.” she beamed before she ran off back towards her mother who politely smiled and waved in her direction from her seat at one of the tables.
“Wow, you really know everyone here.” Miles interjected as she continued to watch the young girl as she joined another little girl at a smaller coloring table.
“Believe it or not Miles, this used to be my livelihood. I used to come down and spend so many of my days here helping out. Veronica was actually born here.” She said motioning to the little girl who kept looking back and smiling at her.
“You don’t say.” Miles said with a smile as he finally began to relax.
“It’s my favourite place in the world.” she said fondly. “Come on, I’ll give you the proper tour.”
They walked around the halls together as she gave him the grand tour of all three floors. As well as the already mentioned doctor’s rooms, cafeteria, common rooms and childrens playrooms, there were counselling suites and consultation rooms for legal advice. The second floor had a community hall with regular classes from toddler groups to self defence lessons. The whole top floor was dedicated to the homeless project that provided emergency beds for those rough sleeping whether on site there at the hub or being relocated to one of the apartment buildings they had bought out as temporary accommodation until they could get their feet back on the ground.
They sat and talked to people in the communities, helped out staff where they could and overall tried to inject some light into people's lives amongst the darkness.
“Hey.” a familiar voice said behind her as Veronica, who had just come and given her a picture she had drawn for her, ran back to the coloring table.
“Heeyy!” she beamed softly as she turned around to find her husband.
His hand tenderly braced itself against her lower back and she couldn’t help but melt into his warm touch. She had become so wrapped up in what she was doing, she had almost completely forgotten everything else that had come to pass. The way that everyone had opened their arms to her made her feel like the last three years had never happened, let alone the last 4 hours she had spent there.
“I went back to May’s apartment but you weren’t there.”
“No.” she smiled fondly.
The whole moment felt so domestic, reminding him of days gone by where he would pick her up on Friday afternoons, a moment for him to show his own face and see all of the hard work that was continuing to be carried out with his money. He turned his head around the room looking for Miles, only to find him sitting on a tiny chair next to a little boy on a purple bean bag, playing with the new playstation that had recently been acquired.
“I’m assuming all of the baked goods are gone?” he asked, attempting to keep civil conversation and find good ground between them.
“Actually I think there might be a cupcake or two still in there if you want one.”
They smiled fondly at one another. He had to admit, despite all of the shit he ended up being involved with on a day to day basis, whenever he came back here, seeing families and communities thrive, it made it all worth it,
“You ready to get out of here and go for that dinner?” He asked softly.
She silently nodded as she found herself suddenly drowning in his honey brown eyes. Those soft eyes. The ones he used to look at her with back when they first met. Back when he would sneak into her dorm room. His gaze would soften like molten honey, a sickly sweet sensation always pulling her in as he told her how beautiful she was, his Angel. “Yes.” she finally said slowly, finding her voice. It was barely audible above the noise of the room, but she knew he heard it.
“Yo, Miles!” Peter hollered across the room to him, causing the younger gentleman’s ears to prick up, his head turning slightly, but his eyes never left the screen. “You’re free, man, go home.”
“Yeah, okay, just a minute!” he called back, “I just gotta win this race.”
“Nu uh.” the young boy next to him replied before Miles playfully bumped the kids shoulder with his own.
Angel couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at the exchange as she grabbed her blazer off the back of a chair as they left.
-
When they got out onto the street Angel had expected to find Miguel outside waiting for them, but instead her eyes came to rest on a black Maserati she recognised from her quick glance across the garage in their rush the night before. “Where’s Miguel?” she asked as Peter began to make his way towards the car, opening the passenger door for her.
“I’ve got him out running an errand with Harry.” he replied as she stepped past him to slide herself into the passenger seat. “Plus, I want tonight to be just about us.” He said, his head bending down to look at her through the door frame.
“Okay, duly noted.” she replied with a curt smile before he closed the door on her. “So does that mean we’re gonna get through a whole evening without interruptions?” She asked when he climbed into the driver's seat on the other side.
He shuffled slightly in his seat before reaching into the inside pocket of his blazer for his phone making a show of putting it on aeroplane mode before handing it to her for safe keeping. She pursed her lips, attempting to keep a straight face as she looked down at the phone now turning around in her fingertips, trying not to let on how big of a deal that was for the two of them.
“So where are we going?” she asked as he clicked his seatbelt into place before starting the car up with a loud rev of the engine for good measure. She had no doubt he was showboating, trying to impress.
“Oh, now that would ruin the surprise.” he said as he quickly revved the car and sped away.
*****
They arrived 10 minutes later outside a restaurant on the upper east side called the Lemon Grove. The whole front of the building was lit with fairy lights and vines filled with fake lemons. They got out of the car and Peter tossed his keys to a waiting valet before his now free hand rested comfortably at the small of her back as he guided her to the restaurant door.
“Hi, good evening, welcome to the Lemon Grove, do you have a booking with us this evening?” a gentleman, who looked to be nearing his forties asked.
“Yes, there should be a table for two under Parker.” Peter said.
The maître d' scanned his list before saying “ahh yes, here it is. If you’d like to follow me this way.” he encouraged them as he held out a hand for them to follow him.
He led them through the bustling restaurant and over to a table tucked away to the back. He moved to pull out a chair for Angel but Peter quickly cut him off, “It’s okay, I’ve got it.” he said, wanting to make a show of putting in the effort with her after their fight earlier on he was still trying to make up for.
“Okay.” the maître d' said as he took a step back.
When Peter had stepped back around to the other side of the table and began taking his seat the maître d' stepped forward again to place the menus on either side of the table in front of them.
“Thank you.” Angel smiled, as Peter tucked his chair in.
“Can I get either of you a drink? Or would you like to take a moment to look at the wine list?” The maître d' asked, motioning to the smaller menu already on the table.
Before she had had a chance to say anything Peter hastily grabbed the wine list, scanning it over, before ordering them a bottle of an Italian Cabernet from Tuscany.
“Coming right up, sir.” The maître d' said before walking away and leaving them to their table.
“You still love Italian food right?” Peter asked her as they both reached for their menus to start gazing over the cuisine.
“Would you hate me if I actually said I’d gone off it.” she deadpanned from behind her menu, causing him to freeze. “I mean, living in Italy for just over two years…” she continued, seeing how far she could push him and make him squirm. She watched over the top of her menu as he swallowed uneasily. “I’m kidding Pete.” she quickly said as he met her eyes, a smile creeping across her face.
“Don’t do that.” he quickly shook his head at her, but he couldn’t hide from her the small quirk in the corner of his lip at realising he’d been had. “No.” he continued, trying to brush it off.
“What? Spider boy can’t take a joke anymore?” she teased as she fought with the grin that wanted to take over her whole face.
“Oh no, I can take a joke.” he quickly interjects, looking to cover himself.
“Yes, of course.” she mockingly nods as he continues to get a hold of himself.
“It’s just, not often that I am the victim to them.”
“Okay.” she smirked as she continued to nod, her eyes turning back to the menu in front of her as she scanned the list of foods.
It was at that point she realised she hadn’t really eaten since their breakfast meeting this morning.
“What is it?” he quickly asked, noticing the sudden furrow to her brow, an air of concern taking over his whole body.
“Nothing, it’s nothing.” She hastily responded, not wanting him to stress or feel like matters were worse than they were, as if either of them still weren’t somewhat on alert after the events of the past 24 hours, an unconscious paranoia just waiting to take over. “I just realised I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“Oh.” he interjected quietly as he began to settle again.
They sat in silence for a moment as they continued to scan the menu, that unspoken paranoia sitting heavily in the middle of the table between them after his reaction that neither was sure how to shift.
“So do you know what you want?” he asked, clearing his throat slightly and breaking up the silence between them.
He watched for a moment as she flicked back and forth between pages. “Yes… no… maybe?” He can’t help but be warmed by the small questioning look on her face, one eyebrow twitching higher than the other, her head tipping slightly as she muddled over the different options in her head. It was the same look she used to get when he would watch her study for a test or when she was struggling to work something out for her thesis, back when she was still at college.
A waiter came over with their drinks and it made Peter smile when she didn’t even look up from the menu, but still reached for the glass the moment it had been sat down, swiftly bringing it to her lips and taking a sip.
“Do we know what we’d like to order this evening?” The waiter asked as he stood patiently next to the table.
Peter was about to ask for him to give them another moment when she closed the menu and sat it down in front of her. There was a pause as if to check she really was ready, when she said. “Off you go.” tipping her head to encourage Peter to place his order, as she once again brought her wine glass coily to her lips.
“Are we doing starters?” Peter quickly questioned her, an old habit suddenly popping into his head.
“Peter, just order.” she replied, but he could see the quirk of her lip and recognised the sudden dark gaze to her eye and knew she was up to something.
“Okay…” he hesitantly said, his head turning towards the waiter. “We’ll take the calamari and a portion of arancini to share for starters.” he began, his eyes quickly glancing back to his date for confirmation she was okay with this. She merely raised her eyebrows as she sank back in her seat, wine glass still poised in her hand, the tiniest tilt to her head encouraging him on. “Then for mains, I’ll take the sea bass…” he paused, flashing her another glance and her eyebrows rose higher still, encouraging him to surprise her and order for her. He quickly scanned back over the menu before him, re-familiarising himself with it. He smiled to himself. “She’ll have the parmigiana di melanzane, a portion of bruschetta and a small caprese salad on the side.” He said with perfect pronunciation as he ordered her a selection of their starters for her to pick and choose from like an Italian version of tapas. Once she had laid down the gauntlet he had felt her tense slightly, worrying whether or not he’d order the right thing, but upon making the order, he could feel her energy begin to relax, a smile forming on her lips again.
“Is that everything, sir?” the waiter asked.
“Yes, I think it is.” Peter said with a smile dismissing the waiter who quickly took their menus from them before heading to the kitchen with their order.
There was a pause between them as Peter took a sip of his wine and they tried to work out what to talk about.
“How’s your shoulder?” Peter asked her as she folded her hands into her lap.
“It’s okay. A little tender but, it’s fine.” Her fingers automatically reached for the shoulder in question but quickly lowered her hand back into her lap.
“How bad was the house?” she asked. Peter noticed there was a slight hesitancy to her question, as if it pained her to think about.
“It’s gonna take a bit of work but-”
“Do you think we’ll be able to go back there, or will we need to sell it?”
Her question seemed to answer her previous hesitancy. It had been their house, their home. The place they had picked out together, decorated together. Lived in together. They’d always seen it as their forever home. The place to raise kids one day. Maybe get a dog. Hold large family events in the backyard. They’d tried so hard to keep it separate from everything else and now that privacy had been violated.
He was silent for a moment as he considered his response. “I won’t lie… it might have to be a possibility.” He watched her closely as she exhaled the breath she had been holding, the usual twinkle in her eye fading as the reality of their situation took over once more. “But until-”
“I know.” she said, not needing him to finish his sentence, her own mind already completing it for her. ‘Until the Vulture had been taken care of, they wouldn’t even be able to consider the house safe enough to go home.’
“So what do we do?” she asked. “I mean we can’t very well keep staying at May’s.” she noted.
Peter was silent for a moment as he looked down at the table in front of him. He had that face on him, she noted, the one where he had something planned but didn’t want to let on that he in fact had a plan.
He was saved by the arrival of their starters, the food being placed down in the middle of the table for them both to pick at.
“Thank you.” Angel said politely to the waiter as he quickly made his retreat, leaving them alone once more.
“Oh my god.” she sighed as she took a bite out of one of the arancini balls with a groan of satisfaction. “That’s amazing.”
Peter’s face changed to one of pleasant surprise as he placed one into his mouth and confirmed his wife's reaction by having a similar one, his own humm of satisfaction vibrating his lips as he chewed.
“So is it as good as the stuff in the actual country or…?” he asked as they moved on to the calamari.
“Not bad.” she confirmed as she finished her mouthful. “I made friends with this lovely old woman who lived down the road from the house and she used to make the best meatballs I have ever tasted. She had just that right ratio of tomato and garlic and she’d slow cook them so they just melted in your mouth.” Angel gushed.
“Now I’m glad I didn’t order the meatballs.” Peter smiled. “With a description like that I don’t think they could have compared and I would have spent the whole meal feeling disappointed with my food, dreaming about these mouthwatering, slow cooked-”
She giggled, a blush forming on her cheeks as she took another sip of wine as he jokingly continued to use as many adjectives as he knew to describe a plate of meatballs he would never ultimately have.
“Oh no, I’m serious.” he continued with a smirk, “I’m gonna call Miguel right now, get him to tell them to get a jet ready so we can fly to Italy to this mysterious magical Nona who cooks the best meatballs and we will do nothing else until-”
“How are you gonna do that, when I have your phone?” she teased back.
“Fine then, you call Miguel.”
“Peter.” she giggled and chastised. He loved it when he could make her blush. Make her forget about everything else. Take them back to their youth. Quiet rainy afternoons, wrapped up in each other's arms on that small single bed.
“Okay, okay.” he conceded with a smile.
“What do you wanna do about your Father’s house?” he asked her as their main courses arrived, her three smaller plates being laid out strategically in front of her by the waiter. Peter watched as she quietly thanked him before switching the order of the plates once the waiter's back was turned. It made Peter’s stomach turn, a sickly sweet feeling that sent tingles to the joins of his jaw that made him quickly turn his head to his own plate before him, inner conflict returning as his brain remembered the question he’d just asked and all of their recent history began to drive a wedge between them once more.
“Sell it.”
“You sure?” he questioned. It had been the home she had grown up in.
“There’s nothing left for me there.” she said as she lifted a fork full of salad into her mouth.
“Did you wanna go back and sort through anything?”
“No.” she adamantly shook her head.
“Okay.” he silently nodded and agreed. “We can put all the money back into the foundation if you want. Maybe set up another hub in the city?” he asked, trying to chip away at the wall she seemed to just put up at the mention of her Father.
She paused as she lowered her cutlery. “Peter, can I ask you something?” Peter’s own hands froze either side of his plate as he gave her his full attention. “Do you ever wonder if you made the right choice?”
“What do you-”
“I mean all this.” she gestured with her hand between them. “If you hadn’t given up the suit and the mask… do you think things would have been different?”
“I think…” he paused as he tried to comprehend her question. To think of the life they would have had if he had continued to be the Spider-Man, not whatever he was today, “I think we wouldn’t have much money. I think we’d have ended up living in a shoe box apartment somewhere in Queens, still sneaking around behind your father’s back.” She quietly sipped on her wine as she listened to his thoughts. “I think a lot of people's lives would be harder because they wouldn’t have the hubs to go to when they are in need.”
“That’s not what I mean.” she quietly said as her arms came to rest on the table, her fingers reaching out to him.
“You mean, do you think he would have let you stay?”
There was silence between them. Peter watched as she slowly removed her hand from where it had reached out across the table towards him. Reached out for him, to bridge that gap that had grown between them. But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t be reminded what it felt like to feel her soft skin against his.
The two of them remained silent, unable to finish their food. The weight of everything that had been or even could have been already enough for their brains to process, let alone the last of their food in front of them.
When the waiter asked if they’d like to look at the dessert menu, Peter waved him off. He instead quickly settled the bill with a generous tip and they both left.
They waited quietly side by side at the edge of the street for the car to be brought around.
“I’m sorry.” she finally blurted out as her arms closed tightly around her with the evening chill. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” she added more quietly as the car revved to a stop in front of them.
The driver quickly got out, handing Peter the keys before stepping towards the passenger door to open it.
“Get in the car.” Peter instructed softer than she expected. “There’s something I want to show you.”
------------------------------
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The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Nineteen: Wash It Away*
Summary: It's time to wash off the past, as well as all that blood from that final battle.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Smut, genre typical content, mentions of blood and previous injuries, kissing, P in V, shower sex,
Word Count: 2.4k+
A/N: We couldn't leave our favourite couple before they kiss and make up and get it on again. I also realise there is a small theme of Angel always having an emotional breakdown before sex, I promise they aren't always like that haha. This series has been such an experience to write. Honestly at times it's like they wrote themselves, but we'll get into that more on our Epilogue Authour's Note. Anyway, here's some steamy shower sex.
NINETEEN
Peter didn’t say anything the whole car ride home, he didn’t even turn his head in her direction. His only acknowledgement of her presence in the car was the steady hand he held to her thigh, his thumb stroking small soothing and gentle motions back and forth. Her gaze kept tracking from his blood stained cheek to the ever changing landscape outside, trees coming into view and growing denser the further they got away from the city. He was taking them back to the house. He was taking them home.
He was slightly tense as he turned onto the drive. He didn’t follow it all the way down to the garage, instead parking right outside the front door. She waited in the car as he got out and walked the length of the car round to her side. He opened the door, holding his blood stained hand out for her to take. She wrapped her own bloody fingers around his before stepping out of the car.
He paused, looking at her for a moment, drinking her in. He slowly dropped her hand, his hands raising to either side of her face, his fingertips finding a home in her hair as he held her head in place, his eyes searching, rediscovering. She lifted a hand up to brush across his blood covered shirt, her fingers wrapping tightly over his bicep, encouraging him to close the gap between them. His hips pushed her back against the side of the car as his fingers gripped tighter into her hair, pulling her towards him. His kiss was soft but firm. Silent, but deadly. It somehow said everything he needed to say, wanted to say but couldn’t. ‘I’m sorry. I love you.’
Her other arm wrapped around him, holding him close as the arm that was clinging to his bicep slowly climbed upwards towards his neck, fingers tangling into the hair as she deepened the kiss with her own apology.
His hands moved down the sides of her body, wrapping around her ass before he lifted her up into his arms, her arms folding over the backs of his shoulders. Holding her tight in his arms as he continued to place kiss after kiss onto her lips, he carried her towards the door to their house. Her breathing hitched, their lips parting momentarily as he pushed her forcefully against the door, holding her in place with just his hips and one arm as he rooted in his pocket for the key. He continued to attack her mouth, the metallic taste of dried blood entering his mouth from the flecks smeared across their faces as their kisses grew wider and more frantic. She felt the door give way behind her back as it opened, making her grip around his neck grow a little tighter, but she knew he wouldn’t drop her.
They continued to kiss, their hands pawing at each other as he moved them through the house, carrying her up the stairs to the bathroom. He subconsciously pushed the door closed with one hand before turning them so he could turn on the shower, before he finally placed her feet back onto the floor. His hands pushed her hair back as he held her face in both hands again, reassuring himself that she was real and here and his once more. Her fingers moved frantically to unbutton his shirt. The moment the last button was undone, she was ripping the shirt open and off of his arms. It got stuck at his elbows and he reluctantly let go of her so that he could pull his arms out the rest of the way, before throwing the shirt to the ground.
Steam filled the room as they took a step back from each other to get rid of the rest of their clothes, deciding the process would be much quicker. Once stripped they paused to take in each other’s naked forms, her eyes raking down her husband's toned stomach, his eyes fixated on her still bandaged ribs. He was gentle as his fingers reached out to her. She closed her eyes, letting out a long exhale of relief as he began to unwrap her chest, her lungs being able to work fully now they weren’t being held back. She let the steam cleanse them as Peter tipped his head down to lay kisses across the tops of her shoulders.
“Tell me if I am being too rough.” he whispered into her skin as he dropped the bandages, his free hand moving to wrap around the side of her neck and tilt her head up towards him so he could kiss her once more. It was slow and deep, his tongue teasing at her own as he lifted her into the shower. She breathed out another sigh of relief into his mouth as the warm water began to trickle down her back. He slowly let her feet fall to the shower floor as he continued to back her further under the stream of the shower and into the corner so that he could fit too. It didn’t take long for the water to turn red as it began to wash away the horrors of not just the evening but the last three years.
“Peter-” she whispered against his lips, seemingly pained. Seeing that his hands were in her hair and not on her body, he knew it wasn’t a physical pain but an emotional one; and as he opened his eyes and saw the fear and the sorrow that tainted her own, his own chest cleaved in two.
“It’s okay.” his soft voice tried to reassure her. “It’s okay.” he repeated as he folded her against his body, arms wrapping protectively around her skin.
They stood like that for a moment in silence. The only sound, the water and her deep breaths between silent tears, her fingers grasping onto him tightly.
He slowly separated them when he felt her still, a calm washing over her as her tears subsided. He turned and reached for the shampoo bottle that had been sat patiently waiting to be used again for the first time in weeks, squeezing the liquid into his palm before he started to lather it into her hair. His fingers scratched relaxingly against her scalp before he encouraged her head back into the stream of water, rinsing it of any left over blood. He had her turn, her chest being kept warm by the water as he did the same again, this time with conditioner, his fingers raking through her tresses, cleansing it and her of all trouble and worry. He stepped forward to kiss at her bare shoulders as he reached past her for a loofah. She kept her eyes closed, listening to the sounds as he opened the bottle of shower gel, squirting it onto the sponge and lathering it up in his hands. She sighed, leaning into his touch, as he gently began to wipe away at any left over blood and grime, her toes wiggling between the bubbles pooling at her feet. She always felt so beautiful under his touch.
Noticing the smile on her face, he reached a hand to the back of her head, turning her head back towards him so he could place a kiss against her lips.
As their kiss deepened once more, she turned her whole body towards him, the suds sliding from her body as she turned. One of her hands started to slide up his bicep as the other moved down to take the sponge from him. She slowly encouraged him closer to the water as she stepped out of the stream of water and steam. He fully stepped under it, his hands moving up to run across his face and back through his hair, allowing it to rinse away all the blood and dirt from his own skin. When he tilted his head back down and opened his eyes to look at her again, her clean form all sweet for him, his devoted and loving wife, his gaze grew dark.
He reached back out for her, pulling her back under the water with him before turning and pushing her back against the wall. His lips attacked her’s hungrily and she giggled against his mouth for the briefest of moments before her own needs took over. She could feel him growing hard against her stomach as he leant his body against hers. Her breathing grew frantic as she reached to run her fingers up into his hair, pulling hard against his wet tresses. He growled deeply against her neck as his lips began to trail across her jaw and down her neck, his head burying in her chest as his arms reached down to lift her again.
His hips pushed her further into the tiles as he notched himself at her entrance as she panted his name. She gasped as he slipped himself inside, his head shifting so he could stare into her lovestruck eyes, mouth hung open as he teased at that special spot inside her as he filled her out.
“So pretty for me, baby.” he breathed before attaching his mouth back to hers again. He shifted her slightly in order to thrust inside her easier, a small sound of pain escaping from her lips from the way her ribs dragged against the hard tiles. “I’m sorry.” he whispered into her skin but she shook her head.
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Her breathing hitched as he began to slowly drag his length out, then back in again. She gripped a hold of him tightly, slippery fingers desperately clawing at his wet skin. His pace was sinful, so slow, so long, so deep. This wasn’t a normal shower quickie, he was making love to her right against the tiles.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” he praised as she tilted her head back, her moans echoing around the bathroom, mingling with the steam.
“Peter.” she breathed his name like it gave her life. “Peter… Peter.” It was his favourite way to hear his name.
“God, I love you.” he spoke into her skin. “My perfect Angel, my slice of heaven. Always so good for me.” His thrust grew harder as he lost himself, Angel biting at her lip as she braced herself, one hand around Peter, the other steadying herself against the wall.
Her legs shook slightly as he dropped her back down onto the shower floor, slipping out of her as he turned her around. He reached down, lifting her leg and bending her forward slightly, his other arm holding her up as he slipped back into her from behind.
His pants and grunts into her ear were sinful as he began to thrust into her faster with the new angle. She let her head fall back against his chest as her mouth hung open in pleasure. With each thrust he hit that devastating spot inside her. “My perfect wife.” he continued to coo. “Cum for me baby. Need to feel that perfect pussy squeeze me.”
His words elicited a guttural sigh to escape her chest, the arm he was using to hold her up around her chest moving to wrap around her throat. She chased his lips as he leaned over her, his tongue smashing into her mouth to taste every breath, every moan.
She could feel her muscles pulling tight low in her belly as she ground back into him, attempting to meet his every thrust. Their lips parted and her forehead pressed into his as she panted “I love you.” her eyes boring into his before her breaths stuttered.
She practically screamed into his mouth when her climax dropped. “That’s my girl.” he coached her as he slowed his thrusts and fucked her through it.
“Now, you.” she panted as her heaving chest began to settle but he just lowered her leg and slipped out of her.
“Not, yet.” He said before he placed another deep kiss to her lips.
He picked up the loofah, lathering it up again from where it had been lying on the shower floor before wiping her off one more time. He encouraged her back under the flowing water to wash off the bubbles and rinse the conditioner from her hair, before he was ushering her out the shower so he could wash himself properly.
“Go dry, yourself off.” he said as she wrapped herself up in a towel. “I’ll be in in a minute.” he encouraged, instructing her to wait in their bedroom as he stepped back under the running water.
She slipped quietly out of the bathroom, padding across the hall to the master bedroom. She wished she could call it their master bedroom, but until they moved their stuff back over from the penthouse, she could only think of this as his bachelor bedroom.
She took a moment to take it all in; all hardwood furniture and navy bed covers. The art was all photos of the city. She suspected all of them were photos he’d taken back in the day when he wouldn’t go anywhere without his camera. She hoped he’d take up the hobby again after all this.
She couldn’t help but think back to his old bedroom at May’s. This couldn’t have been more different. No homely touches, everything chosen to fit an aesthetic; the dark brooding gangster whose wife had left him. She froze as she felt his presence in the doorway, turning to see him standing with a towel wrapped around his hips, his hand still rubbing at his wet hair with a smaller towel.
He took one look at her face. “You hate it, don’t you?” he said as he stepped closer to her.
She tried to school her features as she slowly began to nod but she couldn’t hide her smile from him. “Yeah.” she agreed as he began to smile with her. “I will say,” she said, wrapping her arms around him, now he was close enough to do so, “I do like the photos.”
“Yeah?” he asked as he beamed down at her, his own arms wrapping protectively around her, his head following her bobbing one as she nodded again. “So they can stay?” he asked with a breathy snigger.
“I think we can find a place for them somewhere.” her voice teased.
“Oh, really!” he teased back with a smile as he swung her round sideways, tipping her off balance with a giggling shriek, before righting her again. “And what about you?” he continues to jest.
“Ahhh, Peter!”
“Can we find a place for you.” he continues, beginning to lift her.
“PETER!” she laughed.
“I think I’ve got the perfect place.” he said, walking her back towards the bed.
-----------------------------------------
The final curtain drops on our favourite couple this Sunday. Don't forget to come back for the Epilogue. Also if you have enjoyed the story don’t forget to tip me like you would your waiter by reblogging and leaving feedback and letting me know what you think, it also helps keep the story alive by sharing it with new people!
The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Five: You Don't Own Me
Summary: Things continue to grow tense for Angel and Peter as secrets come to light on both sides.
Warnings: 18+ Only, eventual smut, lots of drama, mentions of genre typical violence, angst
Word Count: 2.6k
A/N: With all my recent traveling I almost forgot it was Wednesday... Anyway I am super excited to share yet another chapter of this story. Things continue to heat up for our couple, we introduce and get to know more characters and dynamics from Peter's team as well as work in and reference other things from canon Spiderman lore. Just as an extra, when I think of and write about Felicia I can't help but picture Anya Taylor Joy, let me know if you see it. Enjoy!
FIVE
“What? How do you know?” Asked Eddie as they all piled back into May’s apartment.
“Yeah, I thought this guy was supposed to be a ghost.” Harry chimed in.
Peter held his hand close to Angel’s back. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her the whole way home. He ushered her further forward into the flat, coaxing her towards the sofa, prompting her to take a seat so they could talk about this properly.
Peter sat himself on the coffee table directly in front of her, his hands reaching out to rest against her thighs, drawing her out of her thoughts in her head and back into the room with him.
“Angel, you gotta tell me baby, what’s going on? What’s happening?” Peter encouraged her soothingly, but his irritation was burning under his skin and Harry’s incessant babbling and theorising in the background wasn’t helping him. “HARRY, SHUT UP!” he snapped, turning his head towards his friend then back to his wife. He watched as she swallowed deeply, she had gone so pale, it was honestly scaring him. “Princess-”
“I met him.”
“What? When?”
“With my Dad. They had this sit down. My Dad wanted to sort things out; he was trying to minimise the casualties.” He watched uncomfortably as she winced, the memories flooding her.
But Peter felt confused. “He spoke like he hadn’t seen you in years. Like he was this old work colleague of your Dad’s. Almost like you would run around his back garden at company barbecues.”
“I told you Pete, he’s a fucking mastermind. He plans out every single detail for maximum impact.” She suddenly shrugged off her blazer and brought her uninjured arm up closer to his face, twisting her arm to show off a small burn scar on the back of her arm. Peter tenderly reached out his hand, his thumb brushing against the shiny healed skin. “I got that after they took me hostage.” she informed him. “He used me as a bargaining chip.” she continued to explain as Peter suddenly stood, his internal rage bubbling under the surface, ready to burst, making him restless. He began to pace the floor, nibbling at his thumb and lower lip as she continued.
“That looks like the barrel of a gun.” Eddie said, inching forward to get a better look.
“One of his men fired a warning shot then placed the still smoking metal to the back of my arm.”
“When was this?” Peter asked between gritted teeth.
“Around 8 weeks ago.”
“Jesus Christ.” Peter snarled, his hands thrusting into his hair. “What were you thinking?” he snapped at her. “Why didn’t you come home!” He pressed her, his pupils blown in anger.
“I couldn’t-”
“Why didn’t he send you home!”
“Pete.” Harry tried to hold his hands out to Peter, encouraging him to give her some space and calm down.
“He was playing with her fucking life!” Peter continued to shout in his face. “All this time he was trying to keep her safe from me, KEPT MY OWN WIFE FROM ME, because he said it was safer and-!” Peter couldn’t even finish his sentence he was in such a rage.
Eddie quickly stood between the couple too, slowly stepping forward with Harry to try and back Peter away, to get him to calm down enough to see sense.
Angel was struggling to look at him, his words slicing at her like a knife. As Harry and Eddie continued their attempt to quell Peter’s anger, she began to look around the room. She was surprised with all of his shouting that May hadn’t come out from wherever she was to see what all the commotion was about.
“Where’s May?” she asked to the room.
“We’ve got someone driving her out to the cabin to keep her safe while all this is going on.” Eddie turned to fill her in.
“Which is exactly the kind of thing HE should have done in the first place.” Peter spat, his anger starting to boil again.
“Jesus Peter!” she shouted at him as she finally found her nerve again and came to a stand to confront him. “Pull yourself together. Fuck! This is exactly why he didn’t want me near you.”
Peter froze, her words going off like a bomb, an awkward silence falling over the room. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he said as he stepped towards her. He suddenly had that controlled, scary calm demeanour to him.
“I think you know exactly what that means.” she said quietly, but determinedly to him.
“Okay. Okay, I think everyone just needs to chill out.” Eddie said as he stepped forward with his arms outstretched in an attempt to separate them before either one of them did or said anything else to cause even more damage to their marriage.
Angel sighed as she turned back towards the sofa, her hands pressing lightly against the sides of her face as she sat. Peter too turned away, pacing towards the bookcase she had been observing the night before.
There was a light knock on the door and Harry walked down the hall to answer it.
“Hey man, what’s going on?” the youthful deep voice she recognised from the morning, greeted Harry as he opened it. Harry gave a non verbal answer making the voice respond, “ooh tough crowd.”
The two gentlemen made their way back down to the living room.
“Boss… Eddie… Maam.” a tall black youth said as he entered the room. Looking at him, Angel didn’t think he could be more than 19 or 20 years of age. A young recruit for Peter and definitely not in line with their old rules.
“Angel, this is Miles, Miles this is Angel, my wife.” Peter hissed the final word as he made introductions.
“Pleasure to meet you.” Miles said, stepping forward and reaching out a hand to her.
“And you, Miles.” she said quietly, still exacerbated by the recent spat.
“Umm, we’re going out, Miles is here to look after you while we’re gone.” Peter informed her.
“Really, Pete?” she said suddenly standing again, the tension in the room beginning to rise once more. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You got me a BabySitter!” She stressed the syllables of the word. “How old are you?” she quickly snapped to Miles.
“21.” he quietly interjected as she continued to rant.
“He’s a fucking child Peter. You are having me babysat by a literal child.”
“I’m not a child.” Miles tried to defend himself.
“Look I can’t have you come out with me, it’s not safe.” Peter began throwing back her way. “And especially not after this morning or what you’ve just fucking told me.”
“Oh My God!” She started to protest.
“And he’s not a child Angel. He is perfectly capable of watching out for you while I run out for a few hours.”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
“No, I’m not.” Peter said as he began to snatch up his things, eager to leave the apartment as quickly as possible before either one of them said anything that would really hurt the other. “Look, I’ll be back in a couple hours, you can scream at me then, but until then you’re gonna stay here and not cause Him any trouble.” he said pointing towards Miles, before he took one look back at her as she sat herself down on the sofa, a scowl on her face. “Fuck.” he grumbled more to himself. “Come on, let’s go.” He finished as he corralled Harry and Eddie out the door which he slammed shut.
Miles uncomfortably edged himself over to the empty armchair before taking a seat across from his new charge. “I promise I’m not that bad.” he said, hoping to diffuse the tension. She just rolled her eyes at him.
--
Miles sat patiently scrolling on his phone as Angel paced back and forth across the main living room floor, her hands constantly raking through her hair trying to destress.
“Would you just chill out or something, you’re making me nervous.” Miles threw out to the room which only resulted in her flashing him yet another glower. “Fine. Jeez.” he grumbled as his attention turned back to his phone.
She continued to pace back and forth for another few minutes before she suddenly stormed off to the kitchen. Miles listened as cupboards were opened and different items were slammed onto the kitchen counter. He reluctantly got up from his seat to investigate.
“What are you doing?” he asked as he came to a stand in the doorway, watching her as she began to spoon cups of flour into a glass bowl.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Ummm, cooking?”
“I’m making cupcakes.” She corrected. “You told me to chill out so that’s what I’m doing. When I’m stressed, I bake.” she said as she began grinding butter and sugar in a separate mixer she’d dragged out of one of the cupboards.
--
When Peter arrived back at the apartment 2 and a half hours later, Eddie, Harry and a mystery blonde in tow, she had made and frosted, one batch of vanilla cupcakes, one batch of chocolate cupcakes, one batch of traditional chocolate chip cookies and another of white chocolate and cherry. She was just taking the last tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, placing them carefully onto a cooling rack when Eddie barrelled into the kitchen.
“Uhh I knew I smelt something good.” he exclaimed as his fingers reached for one of the cookies and took a bite. He’d reached for one of the fresh out of the oven cookies however and instantly regretted it as he burnt his tongue on a still molten chocolate chip. “Ahh shit.” he breathed loudly as he sucked air into his mouth to try and cool it down.
“Serves you right.” Angel chastised.
“Damn.” the platinum blonde, who Angel noticed wore a pair of small black cat ears on her head, said as she made her way into the kitchen. “I didn’t realise we were opening up a bakery.” she jests.
“She stress bakes.” Miles proudly spoke up, filling her in.
“I see.” The blonde said as her fingers reached for a vanilla cupcake. Angel watched enviously as the woman skulked away, pausing in the doorway when Peter stepped into it. “She stress bakes.” the woman lowly repeated with what Angel felt was a sense of superiority.
“Not now Felicia.” he said as he let her pass. “Umm, can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his attention now falling on Angel.
“Umm, yeah, of course.” she quietly said as she put down the now empty baking tray and slipped her hands out of the oven mitts she had been wearing. “Don’t touch that, it’s hot.” she quickly said to Eddie in jest as she passed him.
“Ha, ha.” he deadpanned and she couldn’t help but chuckle.
As they passed through the living room, Peter leading her towards his old bedroom, her eyes couldn’t help but fall on the other woman, Felicia, who now sat in the old faded armchair in the living room, carefully picking at the cupcake she had taken. Noticing their presence Felicia couldn’t help but shoot a knowing look between them, a small smirk growing in the corner of her mouth.
“You slept with her, didn’t you?” Angel calmly asked him as he closed the door behind them.
“What?” His brow furrowed as he looked at her.
“The platinum blonde beauty in the living room currently picking at one of my cupcakes-”
“Felicia.” he interjected.
“You slept with her didn’t you?”
“What? Really you wanna go into this now?” he asked her, his irritation rising despite her calm demeanour.
“It’s a simple yes or no Peter.” she stated as she moved across the room to sit on the end of the bed as he continued to stand by the door, flummoxed about how they’d even got into this conversation.
“Look, I don’t blame you.” she continued. “Pete I was gone for 3 years, you really think I expected you to be cellibate.” He looked to his feet as he shook his head in disbelief. “Yes or no?”
“YES.” he hastily threw out.
“Does it mean anything?” she calmly asked.
“No, of course not.” he said a lot more calmly. “Now can we not talk about it.”
“Sure, sure.”
There was a pause as he attempted to compose himself once more. “Look, I pulled you in here because I wanted to apologise.” he said but his eye’s couldn’t fully meet hers. She pursed her lips, holding her tongue whilst she waited for him to continue. “I’m sorry okay.” he said again, this time with more conviction as his gaze slowly met hers. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you like I did and… I shouldn’t have treated you like we were on lockdown and that you needed a babysitter okay. I’m just not used to…” his voice trailed off for a moment as he observed her. “This.” he finally said as his hands motioned towards her. “I mean, last night and then everything this morning and then…” he really didn’t know how to articulate. How to even summarise her changes, the distance between them. How he felt about it all. “It’s just- different okay.”
“Okay.” she agreed timidly and understandingly.
There was silence between them as they both tried to process what had been said and find the right words to say. Peter chose to focus on familiarity in the end,
“I see you still bake then.” he quietly said, his body taking a small step towards her.
“Yeah.” she acknowledged quietly.
“What’ you planning on doing with all that?” he asked.
“I’m sure given the chance Eddie would probably eat most of it.” Peter chuckled in agreement. He always had enjoyed her sense of humour. “I was actually thinking I might take it down to the shelter.”
“F.E.A.S.T?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“I think they’d like that.”
“You gonna let me take them down myself?” she asked as he quietly took a seat next to her.
“Take Miles with you.”
She nodded in agreement. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” she asked quietly, not daring to look at him now he was so close, despite the way his body was turned towards her.
“I’m gonna pop back to the house, see it for myself.” he announced softly.
“Okay.” she replied, finally allowing herself to look up at him.
“Umm, I’ve got a couple of other errands to run after that but, umm,” he said nervously, “I’m gonna get Felicia to book us a table for dinner tonight so we can umm, talk. You know, try and figure this out.”
“Okay.” she agreed.
“Okay.” he repeated.
They sat on the bed in silence for a moment, the two of them just staring at one another. Peter couldn’t help it, when she moved her head and a few strands of hair fell forward across her face, his fingers automatically reached to push them back, tucking them behind her ear. His hand lingered at the edge of her jaw. For a moment that tension seemed to come back. Every time it felt heavier and heavier, both of them waiting to see who would break first, who would make the first move. But then the reminder of their fight took over, the unaccounted time that hung between them beginning to drive them apart.
“Umm, you should get going.” she said quietly. “And I should go and box all those baked goods up and take them down to the shelter.”
He didn’t want to speak. Didn’t want this moment to end. Didn’t want to take his hand away from her, the comfort of her skin against his fingertips.
When he continued not to move, she finally brought her fingers up to his, slowly lowering his hand away from her face, carefully placing it back down between them. She licked her lips regrettably, then got up and left.
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The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter 4: Some Shadows Loom Large
Summary: A new morning brings new realisations.
Warnings: 18+ Only, eventual smut, mob/mafia typical violence, graphic descriptions of death, angst, Harry Osborn (yes he does need his own warning)
Word Count: 4.9k
A/N: This is one of those chapters where I have to start off by thanking @liz-allyn again and her Sugar and Vice series for its influence. Using the greater Spider verse crew as Peter’s team is genius so I had to adapt that into my story. This was originally two chapters but I have moved them both into one longer chapter for your enjoyment. This chapter starts to go into the business side of the things for Peter and Angel with a final reveal of who was Angel’s Dad in the second half of this chapter, (did you guess who it was?). Also there’s a nice little dramatic cliff hanger at the end too… Enjoy!
FOUR
She didn’t sleep, merely stared at the ceiling, trying to make out the rise and fall of the popcorn texture in the dark. Every now and again her ears would prick up at a sound down the hall; a shuffle of feet, the buzzing of a phone on the coffee table. Eventually she heard the sound of the front door close and she knew he had gone out.
She wasn’t sure when it had happened but at some time between him going out and returning, she had managed to fall asleep, the exhaustion of the evening and crash in adrenaline finally dragging her down into slumber. But it wasn’t for long. Not as long as she would have liked anyway.
It was the front door slamming closed again that put her on alert and woke her. The sound of voices out in the living room muttering before once again the door opened and then closed. Tentatively she pulled herself out of bed, her hand rushing for her shoulder as it groaned in pain at the sudden movement. The room was cold in comparison to where she had been tucked up all cosy in bed and she reached for a zip up hoodie hanging long forgotten on the back of the door.
She padded carefully down the hallway, unsure who she would find, if anyone at all. The very last thing she wanted to do was accidentally wake up May and have her stare at her again, that cold hard look in her eyes.
She entered the living space to find Peter sat forward on the sofa, elbows resting on his knees as he looked down at his phone. His fingers typed furiously before he seemed to change apps or text message conversations or whatever he was doing and began typing out something completely new.
He could feel her presence looming in the doorway but he was too tired to care.
“Didn’t you get any sleep at all.” her soft voice dreamily carried over to him, concern dripping from every word.
He took a quick look out the window towards the rising sun then sighed, letting his hand with his phone in it hang limply between his legs as he sat back, his other hand coming up to rake across his face, rubbing at his tired under eyes.
“Peter?” she said his name so softly it made him want to melt. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t allow himself to let his guard down right now, there was too much at stake.
“I called Harry and got him to stop by and check out the house, see how bad it was.” He couldn’t look at her, his face returning to his phone screen instead.
“And?”
The simple innocent inflection to her word finally made him look at her. His stomach turned, his anger coming to bubble under the surface again. How could she be acting so naive right now when their home, their safe space, had been invaded, by the man she brought home. The danger she brought into their lives. “Really?” his voice came out harsher than he wanted and he instantly wished he could take it back.
She didn’t say anything back, just folded her arms and stared at him. There it was again, that new hardened look in her eye, reminding him of all that time, all that change that sat between them. She had said yesterday she had always wanted to come back. That she always would come back, but was that what he wanted. Right now she was still almost a stranger to him.
“Well they completely ransacked the place for a start.” he huffed.
“Did they find anything?” Her voice was genuine, somehow still soft despite his hardened demeanour.
“Thankfully no.” he said, allowing himself to relax back into the sofa with a loud huff.
She watched him closely as he lay his head back against the back of the sofa. His eyes closed as he allowed himself the briefest of moments to relish in that particular piece of news. She slowly crept forward, perching herself on the arm of the faded armchair across from him as she waited for him to continue.
“Thankfully I stopped taking important bits of work home after you left. Made sure I started leaving it in the office instead.”
He didn’t need to say it, but she knew what he meant. After she had left he didn’t have a reason to be home on time, a need to bring work home to continue after dinner, after his designated time spent with her. He could stay as late at the office as he needed, no one staying up, waiting for him to come home.
“Okay, so what’s the bad news?” she said when he remained silent for too long.
That’s when he looked at her with pity in his eyes. “They, um… After they left the house they went to the docks.”
“Okay.” she said quietly, letting him know she was following him, but he couldn’t look at her, couldn’t speak, almost like he was trying to protect her from something. “Pete.” she said forcefully.
“They burnt down the Anchor,” he said. His gaze was cold. “They took all the goods out of it and then torched it.”
She was quiet for a moment before she said, “Wasn’t anyone watching it?”
The Anchor was her father’s biggest stronghold and warehouse. The first point of call for all imports. Guns, drugs, black market antiques. Everything that came into the country through her father’s business was first inventoried at the Anchor. She couldn’t understand how it could get jumped, there were always men on guard on a regular rotation, always armed, always alert. She watched as Peter’s face fought the grimace that wanted to spread across his face as he tried to fight away the memory from the night before long enough to tell her.
“They um…” he stuttered again.
“Peter!” she spoke more forcefully.
He quickly stood in reaction to her voice. “They hung them from chains and attached them to the front of the building.” he snarled at her, a hard look in his eyes, trying to press the severity of their situation into her.
His gutt twisted as he watched her face fall into a look of shock and horror as she processed what he said, her own image of what he had said forming in her head. Peter hated the feeling of satisfaction her look of distress somehow gave him in that moment. She quietly shifted herself to sit properly in the arm chair, unable to meet his eyes as the images of those poor men, all of their charred bodies, just hanging there.
“Were they already dead when he…” she couldn’t bring herself to finish the question.
“Don’t ask that. Don’t torture yourself like that.” His voice softened as his protective side suddenly kicked in again at the vulnerability in her voice. He crouched down in front of her, trying to get her to look at him, to focus on him instead of whatever was currently going through her head.
“How’s your arm?” he asked gently, trying to change the subject and pull her mind from its spiral. His fingers carefully reached for the top of the hoodie to pull it to the side slightly, allowing the baggy fabric to drop off her shoulder so he could lift the arm of her t-shirt to take a look at it.
“It’s okay, it just aches a little when I move it.” she quietly said, her head turning towards him slightly, eyes finally meeting his. She hated how vulnerable his touch made her. That look of concern in his warm brown eyes made her want to melt under his gaze. She couldn’t help but glance at his lips, just the briefest of moments, but it was enough to make that want for him return to her. Just like after he had stitched her up last night, if they moved their heads to the side ever so slightly their lips would meet. If she leaned in just that little bit she’d finally find that feeling she had been craving for, she didn’t want to think how long.
She felt like her heart was in her mouth, ready to leap out at any moment. She was sure he could feel it. Knew he’d seen her eyes drop down to his mouth again and back up. Her chest felt like it was being torn open as he suddenly stood.
“I think May should have some prescription painkillers left over in the cupboard. I’ll go check.” he said as he turned his back to her.
She couldn’t help but close her eyes, the sting of her growing tears unbearable. She breathed deeply, willing them away before he returned. This was all her fault and she needed to deal with the consequences she told herself. She was a fool for thinking she’d just walk back into his life and he would just roll over for her and everything would go back to how it was.
“Here.” he said, holding out the small plastic tube of pills, rattling it slightly in front of her, forcing her to take them from him.
She was about to say thank you, when there was another rap on the door. Peter’s hand absentmindedly brushed across to top of her back as he walked past her towards the door to answer it. She shrunk back into the chair, her fingers picking at the lid to the bottle of pills.
“Thank’s Miles.” she heard Peter say.
“No problem Boss.” a youthful yet deep voice replied before the door was closed again.
When Peter walked back into the room he had a large dry cleaning bag in his hand, he folded it over his forearm, his finger toying with the hooks and he stood staring at her. For a moment he thought he saw a glimpse of the girl he once knew, the angel in a den of vipers, innocent, sweet, but he knew she hadn’t been that for a long time, even before she left and changed again.
“What’s that?” she asked and he realised her eyes were now focused back on him.
“I had Miles run down to the storage locker with all your stuff, pick out a few pieces of clothes for you and run them to the dry cleaners and get them to rush them so you could have something of your own to wear.”
She slowly crossed the room to him as he spoke, her fingers reaching for the bag. “Thank you.” she said, taking it from him, her fingers reaching for the zip to find which long forgotten treasures lay inside. Her eyes caught a brief flash of red before Peter cleared his throat drawing her attention back to him. He then pulled out a small lingerie store bag.
"There's also this.” he said, holding it out to her on the tip of his finger. She hesitantly took it from him. “It’s okay, there’s nothing special in there, just regular underwear.” She stayed quiet as she took a step back from him. “Umm, go get yourself dressed, we’re meeting Harry in the Kitchen for breakfast in an hour.”
She remained silent as she turned her back on him, making her way back down the hall to the bedroom. Peter couldn’t help but stand frozen, staring at her. Even after she closed the door he still couldn’t pull his eyes away from the wooden door.
He eventually let himself fall back onto the sofa, his back leaning into the old cushions as he hooked his fingers between the buttons of his shirt. They latched onto a silver chain that hung low on his chest, pulling it out from the confines of his shirt. His fingers wrapped delicately around the small ring, threaded onto the fine chain links, turning it back and forth.
He had kept wearing it for a further 6 months after she left but as the months went on, he began to feel like it was suffocating him. 4 Months after she had left he had hired Felicia. Another month after that he had started sleeping with her. He’s still not even sure if it was a decision he had made. The young platinum beauty knew exactly what she wanted and knew exactly how to get it.
She didn’t want a relationship, no special treatment, she just wanted to fuck the famous Spider. But for all her forwardness she did have her moments of compassion. She had noticed when he began to slip it off of his finger before they had sex, leaving it on his desk or his bedside table before they fucked. His fingers would reach for it during their come down, his fingers turning the band back and forth before he put it back on. She noticed when it took him longer to start reaching for it.
One day she turned up with the chain for him, he didn’t ask how she had acquired it, just took it from her and thanked her and from then on, that was where the ring stayed. The only time he took it off now was to shower, he didn’t even take it off to sleep.
He had noticed the moment he’d seen her in the house she still wore hers. As he stitched her up last night, he couldn’t help but feel guilty as he watched the way her fingers clinged to the side of the bath, both her wedding and engagement rings flexing around the tightened muscles.
He slowly pulled the chain over the top of his head before he found the clasp and undid it. He held out his palm underneath the chain as he let the ring drop into his hand, separating it from its temporary home. He placed the chain to one side before turning the gold band back over in his fingers again. His eyes looked up to the closed door, fell back to the ring in his fingertips again, then sighed as he placed the ring back onto his ring finger.
———————————————
She was grateful when she found her old stash of makeup hiding out in the back of his old wardrobe, hidden behind his jumpers May just couldn’t seem to get rid of, along with the rest of his things. She knew she couldn’t use the foundation or concealer, both long split and looking less favourable, but she was more than pleased to find one unopened eyeliner pen and a bright red lipstick from a set she was given by her mother that she had never worn at the time, but seemed to be her perfect shade now.
When she came out of the room wearing a white jumpsuit and red blazer, that just so happened to match her lipstick shade perfectly, Peter was stunned. He suddenly froze, his consistent pacing on his phone for the last 15 minutes, completely forgotten. It took all of his effort not to say the words that were screaming in his head, yet he still managed to sigh the word ‘wow’ barely audibly as her heels clicked their way into the room.
He quickly covered it with a small cough, clearing his throat, before he said, “You ready to go?” He quickly looked away from her, checking his phone so she wouldn’t think he was staring at her.
She quickly turned, checking herself on last time in a mirror, flicking her hair back gently over her shoulders with her good hand. “Yeah, I think this’ll do.” She turned back towards him with a tight lipped smile.
“Okay, then. After you.” He said, holding his hand out in a gesture that ushered her towards the door.
***
They met Miguel downstairs out the front of the building. The silver Porsche from the night before, now nowhere to be seen. Instead a black Mercedes sat flush to the curb which Miguel was conveniently leaning against, his arms folded, fingers drumming against the tight sleeves of his black button up. Peter had opened the rear passenger door for her with one hand whilst the fingers of the other absentmindedly fiddled with the button on his own blazer, unfastening it as his eyes scanned the street protectively, waiting for her to get in.
It seemed old habits really did die hard, as when he looked down to check she was in the back of the car okay, he quickly realised she had slid all the way across to the other side of the car allowing him space to get in beside her. He climbed in, giving a brief nod to Miguel, who quickly turned and climbed into the driver's seat, both doors slamming closed at the same time. Miguel then quickly pulled out into traffic and they sped off across the city.
***
The car slowed, pulling over to an empty spot on the street, as they approached the Diamond. There were already a few people sitting eating on the tables out front and there was a steady line inside of people heading up to the cashier to order food and drinks. As she glanced over the flowerbeds that surrounded the outside seats, it didn’t take too long for her eyes to rest on Harry Osborn, sitting at a table in the sunshine, his shades on facing the direct sunlight as he waited. He was joined by 5 other guys spread out across two tables of 4 that were seated fairly close together. Every single one of them wearing black.
“Oh well if it isn’t her majesty come back to grace us with her presence.” Harry quipped as Angel made her way over to the table, her heels clacking loudly on the ground.
“Harold.” she gested back as Peter came up beside her, his hand reaching to pull out her chair. “Thank you.” she muttered to him as she took her seat and he gently pushed it in.
It didn’t take Harry long to notice his best friend had started wearing his wedding ring again and he couldn’t help but make a comment as Peter sat down across from him.
“Well that didn’t take long.” he said, lowering his sunglasses, his intentional gaze at the ring screaming all the things he really wanted to say.
“Shut Up, Harry.”
“Yes, Boss.” Harry sassed as he pushed his sunglasses back up his nose and relaxed back in his chair.
She hadn’t noticed it on the car ride over. His fingers had been turned away from her, wrapped around his phone which he now reached into his pocket for again, opening it up, typing a couple word response, before he lay it on top of the table between them.
“Umm good morning Miss Fisk.” A young woman who looked no older than 19 came up to the table.
“How many times have I told you Kate, that my name is actually Mrs Parker.” she said to the young girl kindly, the two gentlemen at the table exchanging awkward glances to one another.
“But your Father said-”
“Kate, my Father’s dead, he doesn’t even own this place anymore. Actually my husband here does," she cut her off as kindly as she could, her hand motioning to Peter sat somewhat intimidatingly next to her. She knew it wasn’t the young girl's fault. Her Father was a pretty stubborn man and when he was the boss, what he said went, even for her. She gently nudged Peter’s arm, catching his attention. He gave her a brief look before he turned his body towards the young girl extending his hand for her to shake.
“Nice to meet you, Kate, was it?”
“Umm, yes Sir.” she replied timidly, a small blush rising to her cheeks as she met his eyes.
“Well Kate, it’s lovely to meet you.” Harry chimed in, ever the charmer, his own hand extending to shake hers too. “I’m Harry.” he beamed with a sickly sweet smile.
“Pack it in Osborn, she’s only 19.”
“Yes, your majesty.” He spoke like a child who had just been told off by his Mother.
“Umm, can I get you anything from our menu today?” Kate nervously asked the table.
“Actually, yes Kate, you can.” Harry sat forward enthusiastically as he grabbed the menu off the table. “I will take your stack of extra chocolate chip pancakes, with a side of bacon aaaannnd can I also get a blueberry, mango smoothie.” he said, flipping the menu to read the drinks off of the back.
“Umm, yup.” Kate said, noting down the order. “Anything else?” she quickly said, turning her body cheerfully towards the other side of the table.
“I’ll just take a Latte please.” Angel, politely requested.
Peter wasn’t satisfied by this though, turning to fix her a look that implied he was not about to watch her go on hunger strike. “Ummm, no, we’ll take two traditional English breakfasts please, can you swap out the mushrooms on hers for avocado though and can I get two eggs on mine not just the one.”
“No.” his wife quickly protested, despite being impressed he still remembered her food preferences. She shot him a look that told him to respect her wishes but his own look told her he was not about to back down. “Fine.” she said before turning back to Kate. “Can I just get avocado and poached eggs on toast?” She would feel less guilty about the food wastage once her churning stomach inevitably prevented her from eating.
“Yeah, no problem.” the young girl replied.
Finally satisfied, Peter turned his gaze away from his wife and back to the waitress. “Can I also just get a black coffee?” he asked.
‘Yes, of course. Is that everything?” she asked sweetly.
“Yes, I believe it is.” Harry said, leaning forward once more, sliding his sunglasses down his nose so he could bat his eyelashes at her and make her blush, for which he quickly received a kick under the table. “Ouch.” he glowered at Angel across the table. “Jeez and I thought you were supposed to be an Angel.” Harry grumbled under his breath.
“Just a nickname I’m afraid.” she snarked at him.
“Thank you.” Peter said to the young girl, quickly dismissing her before more of a scene could be created. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Peter growled at his friend across the table. “Why can’t you be fucking nice?”
“I am fucking nice.” Harry protested but he was quickly cut off by the arrival of a final person to their little breakfast meeting, a thick manila file being slapped down onto the table before Eddie Brock took the final seat at the table beside Harry.
“Boss, Angel.” he greeted them nicely before giving a light smack to the back of Harry’s head. “Bozo.”
Harry rubbed the tender spot on the back of his head as Peter reached across the table for the file. “I’m not a bozo.” He grumbled under his breath.
“What have you got?” Peter asked as he began to flick through the pages.
“Not much, the man’s a ghost. Until he showed up a couple months back and started picking off King Pin’s properties and causing a bit of havoc, it’s like the guy barely existed, just rumours.” Eddie informed them.
Peter froze as his gaze fell on a photograph of his late Father in law’s body. He cringed at the image of his body splayed out on the ground, his brains smashed into the concrete, a vision of black, white and red. His body grew tense as he tried to tilt the file away from his wife’s view, but something within him knew it was probably futile. Knew that she’d already seen it, figured she’d have been the one to identify the body, his only living relative, yet still he didn’t want to force her to relive that. He quickly turned the page in an attempt to stop his own thoughts betraying him into thinking of his own untimely death, shaking off any notion or possibility of weakness, before it took hold.
“What are we gonna do about the Anchor?” her voice asked timidly across the table. She wasn’t used to being as involved in Peter’s work stuff, being included in the roundtable discussions, but they all knew that was different now.
“I mean, not much to do, the place is charcoal.” Harry said tactlessly.
“No. I mean, what about the stuff that was stolen.” she rebutled, already growing irritated with Harry’s attitude.
“Well, Felicia’s already scanning the black market for anyone trying to flog any of it, but I doubt she’s gonna have much luck. A guy like that isn’t in it to make a buck off of some stolen goods.” Harry spoke with an air of nonchalance.
Angel couldn’t help but wonder who Felicia was at that moment. It was a new name for Peter’s usual circle and a female one at that. A pang of jealousy started to root within her stomach and she crossed her legs under the table nervously in an attempt to hide her jitters and compose herself.
The young girl, Kate, returned to their table with their drinks, Harry throwing out a sickly sweet and over the top “Thank you, Kate.” as she placed his smoothie in front of him and he leaned forward pulling the cup towards him and sucking the straw into his mouth suggestively. The whole scene made Angel’s eyes roll, forcing her to look out onto the street and people watch instead.
“Would you pack it in?” Peter said with a fixed furrow to his brow. Harry’s eyes fell to his lap as he twiddled his thumbs. “Did you get the list of assets?” Peter asked Eddie.
“Uh, yeah, it’s right… here.” Eddie said, reaching into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulling out a folded piece of paper.
Peter took it and looked it over before handing it to Angel. “I need you to check this.” he said as she took it from him.
“What is it?”
“It’s the full list of properties your Dad left me… us.” he quickly corrected himself. “I need you to put a star next to the ones you think the Vulture is gonna find the most valuable so we can supply extra protection. I’ve got a vague idea of the ones we think would be important, but you knew his business better than us, if there are any weaknesses.”
It was then that their food arrived. Drinks were moved, plates and cutlery laid out so they could tuck in. “Uhh I’m fucking starving.” Harry groaned as he eyed up his breakfast. “-HEY.” he swatted at Eddie’s hand as he reached for a slice of his bacon. “Get your own food.”
“What because you’re gonna eat all that.” Eddie retorted.
It was like having a family meal, Angel noted. Eddie and Harry acting as the two kids who struggled to behave, her and Peter the parents trying to act more poised and controlled.
She picked at her food and sipped her coffee as the men continued to discuss their plan for the day, Harry was to organise teams to hit the different locations to do a full assessment on each one so they could familiarise themselves with any weaknesses and construct a plan on how they would inevitably bring them into the Web. Eddie, meanwhile, was tasked with trying to dig up any more dirt on the Vulture that he could.
“And what about me?” she questioned Peter as they made their way back to the car.
“You’re gonna go home and-” his sentence was cut off when Angel’s shoulder collided with a random gentleman’s on the street.
“Oh sorry.” she blindly threw out to him but then she froze when the man turned towards her and she saw who it was.
“No, it was my fault, no harm done.” He said, his voice oozing with charm. Then his face changed, a glimmer of recognition taking over him. “Oh, my. Angel? Little Angel Fisk? My how you’ve grown.” he said.
Peter watched his wife closely as she remained frozen, that look of fear he saw in her eyes at the dinner table the night before, slowly creeping its way back in, putting him on the alert.
“Oh and this must be the husband. You know, I’d heard you’d gotten married. I bet your Dad didn’t feel too great about his only little girl growing up and leaving the nest, I know I wouldn’t. Sorry I haven’t introduced myself.” he said turning to Peter who was tense and alert, trying to assess what was going on. “My name’s Adrian.” He said reaching out his hand to Peter to shake. “Adrian Toomes. I’m an old friend of her Dad’s. Or at least I was.” He continued turning back away from Peter and back to Angel. “I was so sorry to hear about what had happened.” His voice was overly charismatic, like a businessman trying to schmooze a client and it made Peter uncomfortable. “It really is a tragic thing.” He said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Peter watched unsure what to do as she quickly shrugged him off.
“Anyway, I better run. It was lovely to meet you uh,” he held his hand out in Peter’s direction, silently asking him to fill in the blank.
“Peter.”
“Peter.” Adrian repeated. “Angel.” he turned and addressed her with an over the top smile and a wink before he continued on up the street.
Peter stared at the man’s back as his wife slowly began to recover, turning back towards him.
“Who was that?” Harry asked, as he came up behind Peter.
“That was him.” she said quietly. “He’s the Vulture.”
————————————
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The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Eighteen: One Last Game
Summary: It's time for Angel and Peter to put an end to this thing, but not before Harry plays one last game.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!!! (Seriously, this is a very violent and mature chapter), genre typical content, guns, knives, fighting, torture, violence, hanging, blood, so much blood, smoking, death (duh, was this gonna end any other way)
Word Count: 4.2k+
A/N: It's final battle time kids! Some of this gets real traffic, you have been warned but when you're dealing with this genre, what do you expect. Just a reminder this is the final week of Angel and we will be having a Q&A a chat about all things Angel next week so be sure to leave me messages about your favourite bits and fill up my inbox with your Q's. Anyway, who's ready to see Harry and The Vulture go down?!
EIGHTEEN
SLAP!
Peter’s head throbbed as he came to. His cheek stung from the smack he’d just taken to the face that woke him. “There he is.” Harry’s voice taunted as Peter blinked hard and tried to focus his vision.
‘Wait, Harry?” Peter was confused as his haziness quickly left him. His limbs struggled as he tried to move, rope rubbed at his wrists and a piercing feeling prickled the tops of his arms and across the top of his chest. He looked down to see barbed wire wrapped tightly around his upper body. His arms were fastened behind his back and his legs tied tightly to the front legs of the chair he found himself sitting in.
“Ahhh Pete, you must have known this day was coming?” Harry taunted as he paced a few feet away from Peter.
Peter bristled again, sneering as the barbed wire pierced through his shirt and scratched at his skin. “Harry? What the fuck is going on!” Peter said through gritted teeth.
“Really, Pete? Come on buddy, don’t feign innocence with me.” Harry said as he came and crouched before Peter, his hands slapping against Peter’s thighs. “You know exactly what you did to me. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out?” Harry sneered as he stood up. He lifted his hand, gun held tightly in his grasp, as he backhanded Peter across the face. The metal of the gun caught him around the mouth, a metallic taste bursting from his lip. Peter paused as he waited for his head to stop spinning, before he spat blood on the floor at Harry’s feet.
“You killed my Dad.” Harry said, his voice a low growl as he stepped forward again, looking down over Peter. Harry began to laugh maniacally as realisation dawned on Peter’s face. “Wooo.” he cried out as he stepped back, scratching at his head with the barrel of his gun. “Didn’t think I’d find out did ya? Tell me Pete, was it revenge for Gwen or did you just need the money to start your little business, huh?” Peter remained silent but spat another small amount of blood, that was pooling in his mouth from his now split lip, onto the floor. “I have to say though, poisoning him slowly and making it look like a medical condition was a clever move. How’d ya manage it, huh? Use your old Spidey powers to sneak in and just slip it in his water at night, huh?” Peter remained silent, holding his resolve as he glowered up at Harry. But Harry wasn’t satisfied with that. Peter watched as Harry’s eyes grew dark before he hit him again, this time hitting him right on the high point of his cheek bone. “ANSWER ME!!” Harry screamed at him.
Peter spat blood at Harry’s feet, clearing his mouth, before he said horsley, “Whisky. I put it in the whisky.”
“FUCK!” Harry shouted as his hands flew into his hair, pulling at it. He then began that low maniacal chuckle again. “You know Pete,” he said as he began to walk closer to Peter once more, his finger hooking into the barbed wire and pulling on it so it pierced Peter’s skin, small drops of blood staining his once crisp white shirt, “I’m gonna make what we did to Felicia look like childsplay. When Angel finds the pieces of you we’re gonna leave for her, she’s not even gonna be able to identify your body.” he threatened as he began to step further back into the shadows of the room. “LIGHTS!” he called out, waving the gun in his hand with a flourish.
There was the sound of two large switches being turned on before the wall in front of Peter was illuminated. Peter’s stomach turned as he saw Hobie, Eddie, Miguel and Ben, a rope tied around each of their necks attached to the rafters above, their feet just about balancing on large oil drums beneath them. “Time to wake up boys.” Adrian said, stepping forward, a large bucket of water in hand as he threw it at them. Each one immediately woke up. It happened so quickly, yet Peter felt like he was watching the moment happen in slow motion.
“NO!” Peter shouted as each one startled awake, their feet faltering on the barrels. Hobie, Miguel and Eddie were quick to realise and right theirs again, but Reilly’s legs kicked out too much and knocked his barrel over completely.
They all watched helplessly as he began to flail around, slowly choking as the air was cut off from his lungs. His face turned red as he grunted from behind the duct tape wrapped around his mouth. It was a slow process as he gradually turned from red to purple. “HARRY! HARRY STOP THIS!” Peter cried out.
“Uh uh uh. You have no power here Pete.” Harry retorted as Ben Reilly made a few more sputtering noises before stilling, his body going limp. There was a moment of silence as they all took in the gravity of their situation, before Harry started chuckling to himself again. “Ooops.” His intentionally childish voice taunted as his feet danced across the floor towards Peter again. “Now, we’re going to play a little game.” Harry said excitedly as he circled around behind Peter. “Remember when we were kids Pete; and we would sneak into my Dad’s old office and take one of his guns and pretend we were doing target practice.” Harry reminisced enthusiastically. “WELL!” He shouted as he came back around into Peter’s field of vision. “I do believe I see before me, three lovely target dummies.”
“Harry, HARRY! Come on, don’t do this, let’s talk this out.” Peter tried to reason but Harry didn’t like that. There was a loud bang and Peter jumped, the barbed wire rubbing at his skin again, as Harry aimlessly fired a shot in the direction of the three awaiting men. It landed in the wall between Hobie and Eddie, Eddie wobbling slightly on his barrel before steadying himself again.
“Oooh, looks like I may be a bad shot. Guess I really do need that practice don’t I.” Harry teased before firing another shot. This time the bullet grazed Eddie’s thigh and he sneered behind his duct tape gag. “I’m getting closer.” Harry grinned as he turned back to look at Peter.
“HARRY! COME ON! ENOUGH OF THIS!” Peter desperately pleaded. “YOU WANNA HURT ME, HURT ME, BUT LEAVE THEM OUT OF THIS!”
Harry ignored Peter as he fired another shot. There was a loud metallic ping as it hit the rim of the barrel at Hobie’s feet. Harry grimaced with irritation, as Hobie didn’t even flinch. “Harry!” Peter warned as he watched his best friend's face closely, but once again it was no good. Harry took two steps closer to Hobie, the two of them staring each other in the eye as Harry fired a shot that hit Hobie in the shoulder. Although his body held still, Hobie grunted, breathing deeply through the pain. Satisfied, Harry lowered his weapon and began to step back towards Peter.
Peter kept his eyes on Hobie, unable to look at what his best friend had become, as Harry continued to walk past Peter. Peter listened closely to Harry’s footsteps, trying to gauge how far away from him he’d actually walked when his ears tuned into something else. There was the faint sound of a door closing as another heartbeat joined the thrum of sound that surrounded him. He froze. He’d know that heartbeat anywhere. Her heartbeat. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved she hadn’t left, or terrified that she’d just willingly walked into this situation.
“BANG!” Harry shouted in Peter’s ear as he leaned back over his shoulder. Peter jumped as his focus was broken, Harry bursting into devious laughter. “Oh, come on, that was funny.” he teased as Peter stared daggers at him. “Right, right, right.” Harry said leaning over. “Decision time… who gets to die next? I’m thinking eenie meenie miney mo.” He waved the gun in his hand back and forth between Hobie, Eddie and Miguel. “Come on, Pete, say it with me. Eenie… meenie… miney-”
Harry doesn’t notice it, but Peter does as a flash bomb gets rolled across the room in their direction. Peter turned his head, bracing himself as it exploded just as Harry was about to say ‘mo’.
“Ahh FUCK!” Harry exclaimed as there was a large flash followed by some smoke. Harry was further disorientated by the sound of three gunshots and then a second flash bomb. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!?!” Harry shouted as he attempted to protect his eyes as he turned back and forth searching through the smoke for any signs of movement. “TOOMES?”
Peter kept still as he waited to see what his wife would do next. She was silent as she crept quickly through the smoke, passing behind his chair. He felt the rope around his ankles slacken as they were slashed, before she carefully placed a knife into the palm of his hand so he could start working at cutting his wrists free.
As the smoke began to clear he saw Hobie, Eddie and Miguel no longer stood hanging atop their barrels. Harry looked furious. Peter couldn’t help but let out his own amused chuckle. It got him another punch to the face. “I don’t know what you’re laughing about Parker, this changes nothing.” he spat.
There was the sound of the large doors at the back of the warehouse opening and heavy footfall as Harry’s cavalry arrived. Peter rolled his eyes as he turned his head to lock eyes with Giovanni Bianchi. He let out a large sigh as he turned back to face Harry. “Really, Harry? This is who you choose to align yourself with. That’s got to be an all new low.” Peter tried to goad and distract him as he discreetly tried to cut at the rope tying his wrists together behind him.
“You’d know all about lows now, wouldn’t you Parker.” Harry replied before turning his attention to Giovanni and his men. “Find the others.” Gio gave a nod of his head before he started giving orders to his men, the group dispersing in and around the warehouse looking for Hobie, Miguel and Eddie.
Harry paused to observe Peter for a moment before he let out his next low chuckle. “Oh Angel dearest.” Harry called out into the warehouse. Peter chewed on the inside of his lip as his temper began to boil under his skin knowing Harry had figured out who it was poking holes in his plans.
“Here.” Toomes said as he stepped forward holding Angel by the back of her jacket as he walked her forward out of the shadows. “Should have run when you had the chance, shouldn’t ya sweetheart.”
Harry let out a loud goblin style cackle as Peter watched his wife be paraded forward, her hands up in surrender. “And give you the satisfaction?” she hissed as she was pushed to the floor at Peter’s feet, “I wouldn’t dream of it. Harry.” She greeted him, turning her head to the man stood to her left before her husband. The way she said his name was like spitting poison from her lips.
“If it isn’t her royal highness herself. Should have known you’d be more trouble than you were worth.”
“Ahhgg!” she sneered as he grabbed her by her hair and pulled her up from the floor to sit up on her knees to face her husband properly.
“Now, which one of you should I kill first?” Harry hissed as he leaned down close to her face, his lips dragging across her cheek to taunt Peter.
“You get your hands off her, Osborn!” Peter threatened.
“Or what? What’s the big bad Spider gonna do?” He hacked a glob of spit at Peter’s lap. Peter pursed his lips in disgust. “Now, there’s two of us…” Harry said, thinking on the spot, “and two of you. Now I think traditionally, our pretty little princess here would be the first to go, you know, cause you the most pain and suffering. But my friend here, he’s already told her that she’d hear you scream, so here’s what I’m thinking- what if we torture both of you at the same time and you can both hear each other scream. Now that really sounds like fun. What about you Angel? How does that sound to you? I think it sounds like a great idea, Harry.” He grabbed her chin, forcing her mouth open and closed as he mimicked her voice. “PERFECT!” Harry replied to himself as he stood, spreading his arms out like a showman.
There was a gunshot. “AHHHH FUCK!” Harry screamed as a bullet hit him in the shoulder.
It was just the signal Peter needed. He pulled his arms apart, the final threads of rope around his wrists splitting open. He let out a deep roar as he pushed through the pain of lifting his arms, the barbed wire ripping his skin to shreds as he swiftly burst free of it.
Angel stuck out her right leg as she turned herself around, taking the Vulture off guard and whipping his legs out from underneath him as she moved. She pulled her small pistol out of the holder at her ankle before she stood, her other hand reaching back into her waistband to hand over the gun she had stashed there to Peter.
There was a flurry of gunfire as Giovanni’s men began firing at them from the catwalk above. “Shit.” Angel exclaimed as Peter fired two shots back, one of the men tipping over the rail and falling to the ground with a resounding thud, before he pulled her into the shadows. The two of them took cover behind a couple of large crates as shots continued to fire throughout the warehouse.
Before she could get a word out his lips were on hers, kissing her desperately. “I thought you’d gone.” he frantically said as he pulled his lips away from her, his hands pawing at her face to make sure she was really there.
“And miss out on all the fun?” Despite the life or death situation they found themselves in, she couldn’t help but smile. He kissed her again. They were quickly interrupted by two shots that landed in the front side of the crates.
“WHERE ARE YOU PARKER! COME OUT AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN!!” Harry shouted.
“Okay, so what’s the plan?” Peter asked. She raised her eyebrows at him in shock. “I mean you seem to be doing well so far, baby.” He beamed proudly.
“Okay, well…” she hesitated as she began to reach into her pocket, unsure of how he’d feel about her plan. “I thought you might like these.” She said, holding out his web shooters to him.
He tentatively took them from her. “Really? You sure?”
“Come on Pete, we both know this isn’t you.” she said, indicating to his clothes and the gun in his hand. “This is you.” she said as she reached to fold his fingers around the shooters. “The moment you stop working with one hand behind your back, is the moment you’ll become unstoppable.”
He looked at her then and really looked at her. Her clothes, the way she carried herself so confidently with a gun in her hand. He thought back to not six minutes prior when she had fired three precise shots, freeing Hobie, Eddie and Miguel. He thought back on every single moment since that night they had stayed up talking, planning all of this. She had been the real mastermind all along, not him. This was her business, not his. He was just the figure head and Miguel was right, he was nothing without her.
“COME ONNN!!!!” Harry continued to scream.
“I’ll take Harry, you take Toomes.” He said and she gave him a small nod. She turned her body, ready to make her move, but Peter’s arm flew out to stop her. ‘What?’ her eyes silently asked. “Make him pay for what he did to your Dad.” he said, holding out the gun she had originally given him back to her. She smiled.
“You’ve got it Mr Parker.” she said, taking the gun from him.
“God I love you Mrs Parker.” he beamed back as he pulled her back towards him for one last rushed kiss before they parted.
Wood splintered above her head as she quickly shuffled down the line of crates. She sensed a shadow of a body at the corner of her vision and turned, firing a shot straight into one of the Italians' heads. She picked his much larger gun off of his body, sliding the strap over her shoulder as she continued to move, her hand with her smaller pistol in it quickly placed the gun back into her ankle holster.
With both hands to hold her gun steady, she fired another shot across the room and then another as she continued to skirt her way around the edge. When she had just one shot left, she put the safety back on the gun before placing the gun back into a holder at the back of her waistband and switching to the larger gun.
“Hey, Harry!” she heard Peter shout. There was a faint thwipping sound of his web shooter as a strand of webbing attached itself to the ceiling before Peter swung out of the shadows, legs outstretched as he used the momentum from the web to kick Harry straight in the chest, knocking him backwards across the room.
Angel fired one shot after another as she continued to search for the Vulture. She spotted him up on the catwalk in a fist fight with Miguel. Miguel was getting in a good series of punches but Toomes seemed to have some abnormal power behind him as he landed a particular blow to Miguel’s chest that sent him flying backwards. She needed to get up there quickly.
She turned to assess her husband who was currently hunched over Harry’s body laying punch after punch to his face. “PETE!” she cried as she raced across the floor to him. She let out another blast of bullets into the body of another Italian as she ran before discarding the gun as her husband's eyes met hers. She tilted her head upwards towards Toomes who was now striding across the catwalk to where Miguel lay winded, indicating her need. He ran to her.
“Hold tight.” he said as he wrapped an arm around her, firing a web and launching them upwards. He dropped her with a small swing onto the catwalk directly between Adrian and Miguel. She wobbled slightly as she found her balance, giving a nod of thanks to her husband before he went back down to continue dealing with Harry.
Toomes looked her up and down and she shot a glance back to Miguel to check on him. He gave her a small nod and a look that said ‘give him hell’. She reached under her suit jacket for the knife she had previously stashed there, a devilish look spreading across her face as she turned to stare her Father’s killer down. He just sniggered at her.
“Come on, sweetheart, give it your best shot.” he jeered.
She caught him off guard when she threw the knife at him, it lodging just under his collarbone. He sneered, his hand flying to the handle to try and jimmy it free. Angel ran at him, sliding between his open legs before she turned and kicked at his back. His hands flew out to steady himself on the railing of the catwalk before he went flying over the top of it.
He turned back around just in time as she threw a punch at his face, which he narrowly dodged. His movement was just the cover she needed to rip the knife back out of his chest. “Ahhhhggg!!” he screamed as the blade scraped against the bone as it was removed. “You little bitch.” He spat at her as a surge of adrenaline took over him, his hands outstretched as he lunged at her.
She ducked, crouching down at his feet as he passed her. She slashed at the back of one of his calves as his hands grasped for purchase on the railing once more. She stood, taking a moment to let them both catch their breath before his next attempt to lunge at her.
“With all your games, I think you might have forgotten who I am.” she bristled as she widened her stance, egging him on to try to advance on her again. When he ran at her again she was ready. She grabbed his right hand with one hand, plunging the knife in her other hand into the inside of his arm. She used his momentum against him as she ducked under the arm, twisting him as she moved, her knife slicing all the way down his arm, blood splaying across the metal flooring of the catwalk. “I am the daughter of Wilson Fisk.” she said as she pulled the knife free before kicking him backwards. “And the wife of Peter Parker.” She said, stalking over to where he now lay. “And this is my city.” she said as she placed a foot to his chest, keeping him pinned down. She made a show of dropping her knife, it clattering to the catwalk beside her as she reached behind her to pull out her gun with her final shot in it, holding it over his head before she fired, his head ricocheting off the catwalk floor with the force.
She watched as the blood pulled out beneath his body, a weight lifting from her chest, a proud invisible hand on her shoulder. There was another shot in front of her and she looked up to watch as Miguel disposed of his latest kill over the side of the catwalk railing. He took one look between Toomes’ body and hers before he held out a hand to her. She gratefully took it, his other hand coming out to help steady her too, as he helped her step over the Vulture's body.
There were a couple of final echoing shots that bounced off the walls of the warehouse as they made their way back down to the lower level where Peter was still throwing Harry around like a ragdoll. With her adrenaline slowly wearing off, her ribs began to gripe and she leaned against Miguel as Eddie and Hobie joined them, Eddie limping, Hobie holding his shoulder tightly, blood dripping between his fingers.
The four of them watched as Peter placed punch after punch to Harry’s face. When she realised that Harry was out for the count and Peter still wasn’t letting up she finally called out, “Peter! PETE!” It wasn’t her voice but the wince of pain she breathed with that had his fist freezing in mid air. His head slowly turned to her, worried she’d been hurt. When he saw her stood, arm braced tenderly around her ribs he settled.
Angel watched as his eyes went from black, back to their regular molten amber hue as he looked at her. Calming, he slowly turned back to Harry. He was still alive, barely, but his face was unrecognisable. Peter looked from Harry then back to his wife, searching for answers about The Vulture. She turned her head, indicating to the spot on the catwalk where Toomes’ body lay, blood dripping through the grate onto the ground below. She watched as he breathed another sigh of relief before he turned back to look at Harry once more as he reluctantly took a couple of stumbling steps back. It became clear Harry had given almost as good as he had gotten, Peter rubbing at his own ribs, as he began to walk towards Hobie.
“What do you wanna do with him?” Hobie asked as the two men huddled together looking between each other and the body.
Peter took a short moment to think before he turned and shot a web that covered Harry’s entire body. “Stick him on ice.” Peter grunted before he started to walk towards the large doors at the back.
Angel turned to thank Miguel, a gentle hand placed on his bicep as she began to slowly walk after her husband.
She caught up to him outside. He was raiding one of the bodies of the Italians. She wasn’t sure what for until she saw him pull a packet of cigarettes and a matchbook from the guy's pocket. She smiled fondly as she watched him place it to his lips, his body turning to look out at the New York City skyline as he lit it. She breathed with him as he took in a large drag, allowing the nicotine to calm him as it filled his lungs and shot to his brain. He closed his eyes, drinking in the moment as he dropped the match to the floor, his heel absentmindedly stamping it out.
She steadily slipped her hand into his free one, her fingers lacing with his. “You ready to go home?” she asked when he turned his head to look down at her. He smiled, a small chuckle bursting from his lips.
“Yeah.” He beamed as he dropped her hand, his arm wrapping around her shoulders instead. Holding her closer to him, he placed a content kiss to the top of her head, before they slowly began to walk towards the car.
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Just a reminder that this is the last week of Angel. There are two more chapters to come out. Our final piece of smut for the series will be out Friday and our Epilogue to round all this out will be posted on Sunday. If you have enjoyed this story don’t forget to tip me like you would your waiter by reblogging and leaving feedback and letting me know what you think as well as keeping it alive by sharing it with others!
The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Nine: An Explosion In Chinatown
Summary: It's just one thing after another for our couple and the Vulture isn't making things any easier.
Warnings: 18+ Only!, mob/mafia/gang violence typical of the genre, guns, blood, bomb, explosion, death, angst, grief, arguing
Word Count: 2.2k+
A/N: Okay so the drama is ramping up here, you thought chapter 8 had a twist well chapter 9's is even bigger. We are about to touch on a possibly more sensitive topic for the next couple of chapters but I will be very clear to note when and where the details of our plot are so you can pick and choose which bits you read if any of this is gonna trigger you but you want to carry on. It will mostly be in the next chapter which will come with its own authors note but seeing as this is a mafia/mob/gang story it's not an out of character plot twist for the narrative. Anyway, if you struggle with the end of this chapter I advise skipping chapter 9 and just picking up with our story in chapter 10, I promise things will still make sense.
NINE
Peter stormed back into the apartment thirty minutes later followed slowly by Angel, Eddie, Harry and Felicia, Miguel being left downstairs to clear up the mess that was now Jackson Brice. Whether his resolve was stronger than they realised or he really wasn’t the fountain of knowledge they’d expected, was still yet to be determined, but they had learnt one thing before his body gave out, The Vulture was planning on something big.
“What the fuck was that?” Peter suddenly blurted out as he doubled back to his wife. She simply stared at him, her eyebrows raised, egging him on to do his worst. He quickly checked himself, taking deep breaths as he stared her down, unwilling to play her games.
When he seemed to calm a little she finally spoke. “Were you or were you not gonna tell me to go back upstairs after you dragged me all the way down there to make a show of IDing your little plaything for your own game?” she calmly threw the ball back into his court.
She watched him closely as his nostrils flared, his pupils dilating as he began to feel his rage course through his body. He was acutely aware of their fight the day before, not wanting to prove her or her Father right, he could keep control of his anger, he could. She was just making it really hard for him right now.
“Well?” she pressed. He growled under his breath as he turned away from her, confirming what she already knew to be true. “Look, I was the one who was hurt, it should have been me who exacted justice.”
“So you just shot him.” He turned to face her again, his hands sitting firmly on his hips in an attempt to feign a stance of control.
“I shot him in the leg Pete, I didn’t kill the guy.”
“It was a pretty good shot.” Felicia chimed in with a smirk of admiration that got her a harsh look from Peter. “Jeez bug boy,” she chided, “She bakes and she’s a good shot. Anyone would think it wasn’t everything you looked for in a wife.” she continued to jest as she slinked across the floor to the living room and took a seat on the sofa, leaning back into the cushions ready to watch the drama unfold. It was short lived though.
“GET OUT!” Peter shouted, finally blowing his top. “You know what you need to be doing today, so go do it.” he commanded her.
“Come on now, Pete.” Eddie said, stepping forward to mediate again.
“No!” Peter said firmly to him. “All of you out. NOW!”
They all slowly filed back out the door, Harry placing a tender hand to Peter’s shoulder, urging him to try and be lenient. “I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute.” Peter muttered under his breath. Harry nodded in acknowledgment before leaving, closing the front door behind him.
The door closing acted like the fall of the curtain at the end of a performance. Peter turning his back to her and finally getting a hold on himself, able to finally let down his guard without prying eyes. Just him and his wife and their…issues.
He rested his head in his hands as he sat himself down in a boxy leather armchair. She watched as his breathing gradually slowed and began to step forward towards him, attempting to bridge the gap between them that kept getting wider, every time they tried to meet in the middle.
“Just when I think I understand you,” he huffed, still unable to look at her. “What happened to you?” He finally lifted his head to meet her eyes and she could see the pain clear on his face. His inner conflict that she was causing him.
“I had to adapt without you.” she said quietly. Peter watched as her own pain and realisation began to fall over her like a dark cloud. “I guess when you are in it, you don’t notice it as much. Until…” her voice trailed off as she tried to find a way to rationalise things.
“Do you know how dangerous that is?” Peter finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them once more. “How am I supposed to deal with the threat out there if I’m always watching over my shoulder for you because I have no idea what you’re going to do or say next. What other secrets you’re hiding from me?”
“Peter I-”
“No. I can’t do this right now.” He said, getting up from the armchair, his hand running through his hair as his thoughts raced around in the small space.
“Peter, please.” Her hand reached out for his as he passed her. There was so much pain in his eyes when he looked at her.
“I’ll get Miles to come pick you up and take you down to the hub.” he said quietly as he slipped his hand from her grasp. She couldn’t help but stare at his back as he made his way to the front door, the latch closing behind him syncing up with the first tear that rolled down her cheek.
******
Miles picked her up an hour later. After Peter had left she made her way upstairs to finish getting dressed. She had kept on the trousers and the vest, choosing to layer over the top a light blue pinstriped button up shirt that sat oversized on her frame.
“Hey, you ready to go?” Miles said as he knocked on the door of the bedroom. He had let himself in. He had expected to find her sat waiting in the living room for him or even in the kitchen, he hadn’t expected to find her upstairs on the bed staring blankly at the wall.
“Umm, yeah, let’s go.” she said as she stood and started gathering the last of her things into her handbag.
“Hey, you okay?” Miles asked as he stopped her at the door. She looked like a ghost, not at all like the woman he had met the day before who was so sure of herself both when they had first been introduced and she was a fireball of rage or later, when they went down to the shelter and she was all kindness and smiles, showing him around. Now she was just a shell. He watched closely, the flash of change in her eyes as she suddenly put on a smile and a show to him but it wasn’t going to work.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” she chirped as she breezed past him and headed for the stairs down to the main floor of the penthouse apartment.
Miles didn’t want to accept that answer. His Mom had raised him well enough to know when someone was hurting and needed help. Taught him how to talk, to be compassionate, but in the 24 hours he’d come to know Angel, he knew if he pushed her too hard she might just snap at him and it might make things worse. He hoped once he got her down to F.E.A.S.T and she started to soften how she had yesterday, she may be more willing to talk about what’s happened.
They both sat in silence in the car as they made their way to the hub. “Did you want to pick anything up on the way?” Miles asked, attempting to make conversation and see if she wanted to get anything to bring to the shelter as an offering.
“No, it’s okay.” she said quietly before turning her head to look out the window. “Wait!” she exclaimed as they turned down a particular street.
“What? What is it?” Miles responded, suddenly on alert. But when he looked over to her in the passenger seat, there was a sudden softness to her, a feeling that wasn’t there before.
“Can you stop up here? There’s a little cafe I want to pop into.”
Angel told Miles to wait in the car for her as she made her way into the Lucky Cat Cafe, the little bell above the door jingling as she entered. As her eyes scanned the walls with their many quirky and colourful pieces of cat art, a feeling of nostalgia and peace washed over her.
“Good Morning?” a little old Chinese lady greeted her from behind the counter.
“Good Morning.” Angel smiled back.
She took a seat at one of the empty tables and let out a sigh of relief as she sat back into one of the old wooden chairs.
“Can I get you anything?” the old lady asked in her heavily accented english.
“Umm, yes, can I get a green tea and one of the coconut buns please?” she asked, the familiar order returning to her and falling from her lips as easily as riding a bike.
“One green tea, one coconut bun coming up.” the old lady repeated with a smile as she went back towards the counter.
It had been so long since she had last been here. It used to be a place her and her mother came to regularly before she passed. They loved nothing more than stopping in on a saturday morning and talking for what felt like hours about school and boys and family history, the ludicrous tales and adventures of her Grandmother being recounted to her over a cup of tea and a coconut bun.
“Thank you.” Angel said with a smile as the little old lady sat an ornately decorated cup, saucer and teapot in front of her along with the coconut bun on a small octagonal pink plate.
“Enjoy.” The lady smiled before returning back towards the tiny kitchen bakery in the back.
Angel poured herself a cup of tea and as she did so a small ray of sunlight suddenly shifted, shining through the little tea shop window to illuminate the chair beside her. The warmth of the light comforted her, a familiar presence at her side.
As she sipped on her tea and nibbled on her bun, the little flakes of desiccated coconut on top dropping back down to the table and into her lap, she was reminded of a scene in a movie she loved to watch when she was younger. Her Dad had bought her the Charlie’s Angels movies on dvd as part of her Christmas present one year. She had watched them religiously, wanting to grow up to be just like the strong, courageous women in the movie. As she sat there now, the stream of light beside her, it reminded her of the scene in the second movie, when Dylan goes into a bar in Mexico and talks to a seemingly passed-on Angel of the past, Kelly Garrett, one of the angels from the original series.
She looked to the stream of light beside her, felt the comfort in it and knew her Mom was sitting with her. ‘I miss you.’ she thought.
‘I know.” a little voice in the back of her head said.
When she returned to Miles 40 minutes later she could tell he was anxious about having left her in the little Chinese cafe alone; but the moment he saw her more present and relaxed, she saw him breath out a sigh of relief.
“You feeling better?” he asked.
“Yeah.” she smiled at him with a small nod of her head.
“Ready to go help some people?” he asked as she reached for her seatbelt and buckled herself in.
“Let’s do it.”
They pulled up on the other side of the road to the hub a few minutes later, Angel letting out another sigh of contentedness as she stepped out of the car and looked at the building. “You good?” Miles checked in with her as he looked at her over the roof of the car, the driver's side door clicking closed.
“Yup.” she turned and smiled at him.
They checked for cars before they started to cross the road, but as they got closer to the other side, Angel saw a flash of light through the glass doors of the hub before-
She was knocked off her feet as a blast of energy burst from the building, a large boom echoing out onto the street in its wake. Her back collided with the side of the car behind her and everything went black.
“Angel? ANGEL?” Mile’s voice sounded muffled, almost like he was talking to her underwater and there was this ringing in her ears. She opened her eyes, trying to see him, trying to understand what was happening. Her vision slowly cleared enough for her to make out his face as he hobbled towards her, leaning over her body.
She tried to move but her body was so heavy, everything felt numb. She managed to prop herself up on one arm slightly, though her ribs protested.
“Angel?” Miles continued to say her name, trying to ground her, to focus on him but she couldn’t stop herself from looking past him at the clouds of black smoke that billowed out of the blown out windows and doors of the shelter. Small flecks of white ash came down like snow as people ran and screamed around them. There were bodies on the floor. Bystanders quickly got covered in dust as they ran in to help.
She tried to move again but it was difficult, like trying to pull her body out of quicksand. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t move.” Miles’ muffled voice said through the ringing still in her ears.
She thought she felt her chest groan as she finally gave up, her body relaxing back onto the concrete, her eyes closing, darkness dragging her under.
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