Summary of the story: Peter Parker has been alone his whole freshman year but finds hope when Stark Industries announces a science competition. The prize? An internship with Tony Stark.
Hi all. Thank you for being patient on this one. I haven't been at my best recently and writing has taken the brunt of that. In saying that I hope you all doing well and enjoy this one.
I'm also working on my other story "A Night She won't Soon Forget" and that should be posted sometime next week!
Previous Chapter Fifteen: He Returns
Chapter Sixteen: Civil War
Peter reclined back onto the towel. Sand moved under his body to accommodate the shifting in weight as he changed positions. He closed his eyes and listened to the people talking over the waves lapping at the shore. More sand underneath his head siphoned down creating a gritty pillow for his head.
He exhaled.
Flash and Julia were talking to his side. Their soft tones were loud enough to guess Flash had done something irritating and Julia was, in her way, telling him off. He couldn’t hear their specific words but he smirked at a cry of dismay from his friend over something Julia said. Their laughter washed over him along with the general sounds of a beach. It was good to have them close.
He smiled.
They were upstate for the weekend at one of Frank’s mom’s cottages. The home, bigger than any house let alone cottage had the right to be, was hidden away in the Finger Lake Region. It was beautiful country surrounded by hills and vast trees, all miles from the city. Peter couldn’t tear his gaze away from the farms and forests they passed to get to their little oasis. He didn’t ask for specifics when Frank invited them and sitting on the beach with everyone he was glad he didn’t let himself turn down the offer. It was nice to just be for a moment.
Their whole team came out plus Flash, Estee, and Ned in celebration of their runner-up status for the conference. He hadn’t thought there was anything to celebrate but his team had been overjoyed at the announcement. The group chat overflowing with all sorts of ecstatic messages and memes.
The celebration had to be put on hold because of the fast approaching end of school. Finals took over their thoughts for the time and everything else was waylaid. Frank and Monica were graduating so their schedules were filled along with the addition of making sure they were ready for the fall. He and Julia tried to help as best as they could but school bogged down their own schedules as well.
Peter expected everyone to separate in a natural way with all of these factors and was dismayed, as well as pleased, the group chat never extinguished. There wasn’t a day where someone didn’t text something, whether it was Frank talking about one of his games or Julia making sure they were all doing okay for the week. Those small connections were enough to get him through finals and not thinking about what happened.
Summer arrived with the abruptness of the last ring of school bell and finish of finals. One minute the world was on your shoulders and the next it didn’t matter how long you went without sleep to study for the history final. The average was a 59 percent and Peter scraped by with a 65. At least he’d aced all his other finals. Those acted as a buffer when May asked him about the results.
The hot season had been… different than what he was used to. There wasn’t any other way he could describe it. Instead of the long walks alone, waiting for May to get home from work by reading or working ahead on homework for the upcoming year Peter was familiar with, this year Peter had friends. And they wouldn’t take no for an answer.
The whole group of them stuck together as much as they could even after the presentation. Julia met him at the library more times than he could count. Although she didn’t have homework the two of them, and sometimes Flash accompanying her, would read there. More often than not they would then go no a fieldtrip around the city, finding new spots and ice-cream places they had all never been before. Sometimes Frank and Monica would join them on their escapades.
It was glorious.
And it was exhausting.
He hoped they wouldn’t change when fall was ushered in with the start of school and life began again.
Only two more weeks until the date back.
Logically, he knew it wouldn’t be the same but the thought of starting out his sophomore year the same way his freshman year began was unbearable. It had to be different. He suspected, good or bad, that nothing would quite be the same again. But he was also different.
Peter thought about everything that happened – everything he went through – and realized how much had changed. It was a chilling reflection. The depths of evolution he went through in the past year alone. He’d been lost in the sea of grief as school began and it wasn’t until a white flag, in this case a piece of paper hanging outside of the office, waved that something shifted. Of course, he was resistant to it and avoided the signup sheet simultaneously afraid and yearning for what signing his name could bring.
From there it all tumbled accumulating into even greater changes than Peter ever dreamt possible. Ned was steadfast in his offer of friendship. Cafeteria lunches became commonplace when Peter didn’t feel comfortable before. He’d even begun to enter into the debates Mike held at the table earning approving glances from Midge and Jaimik.
In the midst of all this Peter won the internship. Him. Peter Parker. The freak no one liked. The one who felt best in a safe place instead of in the bustling halls of school was interning at Stark Industries with some of the smartest people he’d ever met.
He remembered wishing he could be like the people who walked into the building like it was any other day; not stopping to stare at the intricate planes and panels leading up to the clouds. While Peter often ran late and didn’t have time to stop and stare, he found the building had become a safe place to him. His seat by the window was always empty and waiting for him and besides it was a cabinet full of snacks Julia would share. Lab five and its occupant were beginning to be as familiar and his talks with Friday never failed to make his day.
Thinking of lab five made his chest tighten. Something he always felt when Mr. Stark was mentioned somehow. He wondered what would have happened if everything had gone differently.
If Peter explained.
If he’d stood up for himself and made Mr. Stark listen.
What would Ben have said about it all? How would he react to his nephew forgetting to his speech about courage and shyness? In actuality, Peter had no doubt Ben would’ve stormed into Stark Tower and gave Mr. Stark a piece of his mind. Ben’s approach would be direct and the results would be swift, he was sure of that much. But that was something Peter couldn’t do.
He respected Mr. Stark too much to try and push himself into the man’s life. There was a list of things left unsaid but maybe it was for the best. At least now the man attributed the faults to something Peter did instead of who Peter was. He wasn’t sure if he could handle another rejection of himself again. Especially not from Mr. Stark.
Peter shook his head on the towel and ignored the sounds around him as long as he could.
All of these incited the changes in himself. He was still Peter but at the same time he was something more. He had friends and family. People he could contemplate opening up to. Topics he was passionate about. A job doing something he excelled at. They all were apart of him now when a year ago he could never have dreamed of any of it. And he felt so lucky to be able to think that; to be laying there on the beach as his friends surrounded him.
And that was that.
Julia squealed and began laughing. She stood up in a hurry, spraying sand onto her towel and Peter’s face. He sat up, covering his face with his hands to block the sun while trying to spit out the offending grit in his mouth.
“What was that?” He found Julia soaking and Flash holding a bottle full of liquid.
“You stand back, Flash” She yelled. He smiled and progressed further toward her. Peter scrambled onto his feet at the deranged grin Flash sent him. Julia’s hands were up to provide a barrier in front of her. Her head moved back and forth between the two of them.
“Oh, no you don’t. Peter, I’m warning you.” He stepped toward her. “Flash, you’ve corrupted him!”
Flash moved forward after a nod from Peter. Julia darted backward but Peter blocked her exit. Flash raised the bottle again and flipped it over but Julia was too fast. The water ended up dripping into his hair and down his face. At least the sand from before was washed away.
His bangs flattened onto his forehead and he coughed to get the liquid out. Flash and Julia’s laughter ignited further at the sour face he was making. Her arm was over Flash’s shoulder and the two huddled together as he wiped the hair from his eyes.
“So funny.” He frowned when they continued to laugh. Their eyes crinkled and he couldn’t help but smile in response. Peter stepped toward them and shook his head. Water sprayed over the two, provoking protests. They followed him as he ran to the dock, dodging their attempts to throw the last of the water on him.
Frank stepped out of the house and onto the porch. His yells of encouragement were followed by the sounds of his steps as he ran toward them.
“Yeah, fight it out!”
The planks of the dock shook under each step forward. They all backed up, not wanting to get in the way until they realized they were stuck between the dock and water with nowhere to go.
“No!” They yelled united under a common enemy fast approaching. Frank continued to yell. His eyes bulged out and Peter could almost imagine his tongue leaving his mouth and dangling over the side of his face. At the last moment he extended his arms out on either side of his body and jumping forward. He dragged the three of them up and over the water until they crashed into the waves.
Peter swam back to the beach. Sand squished through his toes as water pooled in his bathing suit before dripping down his legs. He stood at the precipice of the water watching as the tide moved back and forth, over and away from his feet. In the corner of his vision he could spy Frank pushing Julia into the water again at the edge of the dock. Her raised voice filled with mirth so at odds with her normal quiet tones. It seemed everyone was able to let loose on their weekend trip.
He turned his back on the shore and made his way to his towel. Monica and Estee had arrived while they were swimming. They smiled as he approached.
“Cold?” She asked snickering at the shivers running down his arms. Peter nodded and sat down careful to keep his sand encrusted feet off the towel. He watched the others continue to swim around. Their laughter punctuated the splashes as they jumped off the dock.
Monica moved over and sat next to him. Her head rested on top of her knees tucked against her chest.
“Peter?” She said in a quiet tone. “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything or when a good time to talk would be but I wanted you to know I’m really proud of our team. I could tell you thought we blamed you for the place we got but the thought never crossed my mind. You know?”
Peter swallowed and turned to face her. She stared straight at the lake but there was an openness in her face.
“I didn’t…” He cleared his throat. “How did you know?”
This time she did look over at him with a soft smile. There wasn’t an ounce of blame there. Peter shifted on the towel.
“I think I know you by now Peter. Plus, I would’ve felt the same if I was… you know.”
The tightness knotted in his chest in response and he did his best not to remember Mr. Stark’s parting words. Instead he focused on his teammate. It was her senior year and college was around the corner for her. He wondered what she would do now that both of her internships were done and her life was just beginning. She was sure of what she wanted that there was no doubt she would do something great. There was no reason for her to lie because he knew she would have no trouble saying her mind. Peter looked over and was grateful now for that straightforwardness. It let him accept her words and feel the knot loosen.
“Thank you.” He said.
She leaned over and put a hand around his shoulder, drawing them together.
The sun was setting behind a row of trees on the other side of the lake. Clouds lingered in the sky creating specks of purple and black overlaid on the fire palate in the sky. Frank, Flash, and Julia finally crawled out of the water and onto the shore all shivering and prune-skinned from the water. They plopped down on the towels and started digging into their bags to grab the snacks they brought down from the cottage.
Peter accepted a handful of grapes. Everyone laughed and talked as they dried off. Two more weeks until school and in that moment, Peter would’ve given everything to stay on that lake; somewhere in upstate New York with his friends.
-
“How’s the Yaesu doing?” Barry asked from his spot in the doorway.
Peter looked up from behind a pair of magnifying goggles. Barry’s features were distorted under the pair of goggles but he smiled at the way Peter was almost bouncing off the seat as he nodded.
“I think it’s done.” He said.
Barry entered the room and Peter shoved everything over to the side of the desk so he could move the radio over to where his boss was standing. Barry whistled as he inspected the new parts all secured in their right place. He tinkered around with a few of the disks but then stepped back.
“This is great, Peter. I’m glad you talked me into those extra hours, though your old manager is missing out on one good barista. She’s a beauty. With your finishing of that I think you deserve the rest of the day off.”
Peter opened his mouth to protest; to say he needed the distraction, but Barry was already waving him off.
“No worries. You’ve been working so much and I know you want some time before school. I’ve got the shop covered here.”
At least he was kicking Peter out in the nicest way possible but he wasn’t sure what he would do now. Frank and Monica had moved into their dorms the weekend before. Frank was out of state on a football scholarship. The pictures they sent of their cramped rooms did not inspire excitement about Peter’s own future prospects. Their small updates while sporadic allowed everyone in their team to stay connected.
Flash and Julia were doing something together which had surprised Peter but everyone else didn’t share his reaction. Monica said he should have seen it coming and on reflection Peter realized they had spent a large amount of time together at the cottage. He thought it was cute they were friends. Julia brought a sort of calm to Flash whose energy otherwise had too many directions to go to. Under the other’s influence Peter noticed the focused energy in Flash and a rise in confidence in Julia.
Ned was Ned. The boy texted Peter if he wanted to hang out today citing movies they could watch but with this unexpected freedom so early in the day Peter just wanted to spend time by himself.
There was nothing wrong with that, he reassured himself and ignore the guilty feeling of not texting his friend back. Spending time with yourself was important. Balance was key and while their upstate vacation was fun he returned home tired. After all he thought of by the lake, all the changes he’d undergone, he wasn’t a completely new person. He was still Peter Parker and sometimes he needed to be with himself.
Peter went into the back to grab his stuff. He spotted Barry on his way to the door in the front. The man was leaning against the counter, arms crossed on the glass case with his eyes trained on the small TV set up by the register. One red Converse rested on the other.
“Barry?” Peter spoke trying to gain the attention of his boss but the man didn’t respond. He said his name again with the same lack of response. The news murmured in the back and Peter walked around the counter, curious to see what was monopolizing his boss’s attention.
The camera was shaking. Blurry images focused and unfocused on the screen amidst dirt and chaos thrown into the air. The trembling stopped; the camera focused and everything seemed to pause.
Peter’s breath lodged, trapped and turning stagnant, in his chest. The camera was stationary but what it captured was made all the more violent by this unnatural stop in motion. The outside world was silent, trapped in the spell the recorded world wove spinning regardless of its effects in brash action. Metal screamed on impact. Dust and debris streamed across the sky and Peter’s eyes tried to follow every movement in anticipation.
The first thing his eyes zoomed in on was the blue suit. Hadn’t he seen it on the TV only a month ago with that stranger? Captain America stood center screen, facing away and gesturing wide to someone he couldn’t see. His back tensed. Muscles rippled under the taught fabric facing them. His dropped for a moment. The helmet with dipped out of sight before his back straightened again. His shoulders square and spine tall. Then he brought his arm up and lunged forward.
Something hit the ground.
Red and gold caught his eye.
Peter gripped the edge of the counter as blue hit the red suit, sending the cement cracking under the pressure. Why was he? How could Captain America attack… his fellow Avenger? His friend?
His knees threatened to buckle as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing.
Captain America and Iron Man. In battle.
Beyond those two frontal figures other superheroes were fighting. Using their powers against each other. Not against a villain or some common enemy. No, they were fighting amongst themselves.
Captain America stood above Iron Man. His feet near the man’s head. Cement cracked in a grotesque halo around his head. The building behind them was on fire.
In the back of his mind Peter wondered how this was being recorded and broadcasted onto the TV. All those thoughts were stripped away when Mr. Stark, no, Iron Man, launched off the ground, toward the other man.
Their fight began in earnest. There were no more pauses, nothing to say there was any hesitancy left in either figure. The colors clashed on screen and a restless itching invaded his muscles and into his blood cells. He needed to do something. To run or distract or… something. But he didn’t know where to go or what to do. Would he be welcomed? The most sickening prospect is he knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything either way. Not in comparison to all of the special people already there.
Still, despite reaffirming these thoughts there remained the urge to run there and help Mr. Stark in any way he could.
Regardless of not being wanted or needed.
“Look at that there. Who would have thought good old Captain America would engage like that?”
Peter focused on the screen again. Cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck at the realization they were at a different location than before. The walls were dark and condensed the vision of the cameras making him feel claustrophobic.
Iron Man was standing apart from a figure shrouded in the shadows. The famous shield, the one Peter dreamed of holding as a child, was cast to the side. Scratches marred the star on the front. Captain America stepped out from his place by the wall with a frown. He said something as he looked Iron Man up and down. A faint, pleading look replaced his otherwise dour expression.
Punches were thrown and explosives detonated in the cramped quarters so quickly it was difficult to keep track of everything. Peter lost sight of Iron Man for a moment and his heart clenched until the faint glow of the arc reactor appeared from inside the dust cloud.
Peter couldn’t think of him as Mr. Stark in that suit. His name refused to surface in Peter’s mind with all the metal incasing him, protecting him. It created this distance and it would hurt too much to think of that as Mr. Stark fighting.
The shield was in his hands.
Everything was in slow motion. The itching grew and Peter needed to run, to scream, to stop it but he was helpless. Captain America brought the shield over his head. His knees were on either side of Iron Man’s chest. The shield came down and slammed, stopped in time by Iron Man’s hands. The shield came up again, higher than the previous time, and it was flying down.
His heart stopped. Iron Man’s hands weren’t enough to stop the energy behind the assault. Captain America stared down. Iron Man gazed upward, pain and a sort of grime acceptance in his eyes.
The shield came down faster than he could follow, the stars and stripes blurred by the motion. The results were confirmed with the denting of the red armor. The arc reactor fractured. Glass cracked and allowed the light to slip through the gaps.
The two men stared at each other. Their broken and torn up armor added unspoken meaning to the betrayed faces they wore. Iron Man’s helmet came off and it was the first time he wasn’t realized to see Mr. Stark’s face. Before that moment there was still a doubt and hope it would’ve been someone else or empty. But no, Mr. Stark gasped for air while his hands clawed against his chest.
Those wide eyes and desperate movements were the last to appear before the TV went black. Peter was frozen. He was stuck in the fraught moment that had ended too soon and not soon enough on screen. The one he knew Mr. Stark was still living.
Barry said something. His eyes searched Peter’s face but he couldn’t look away from the screen now filled with headlines and news anchors. His boss moved around the counter and clapped him on the shoulder with another word Peter missed. He moved to the back of the store leaving Peter alone.
The person on screen was speculating about the possibilities of meaning this could mean for the Avengers and greater world. Their lips hurried through the broadcast but it was obvious they didn’t know what was happening.
One particular sentence caught his attention.
“…and, of course, Tony Stark also under the alias, Iron Man, was on scene. While we don’t know exactly what caused this rift between the group it is clear his motivations and actions are far from scrutiny given past indiscretions…”
His hands clenched at his sides at the smirk on the reporter. The tighter he squeezed the deeper his nails bit into the flesh of his palms. It was just like those people staring in the hallways of the Tower. Their faces all pressed against the glass to catch a glimpse and speculate about their boss. The news was the same. The amount of times Mr. Stark had joked about what they wrote about him was sickening.
Who were they that they had the right to say that? How was that fair?
Peter squeezed his hands harder, pushing his knuckles into the glass on the counter before storming out of the building. He didn’t call out a goodbye to Barry or clock out of work. It didn’t matter.
The wind swept through his hair and a chill descended onto his skin as he walked out. On pilot he steered through the crowds of people without making eye contact. His thoughts were miles away but his feet began the way to his apartment without prompting.
He couldn’t help the tendril of worry curled in his stomach. It nested there and created a pit stuck like an anchor weighing down his body and thoughts. Mr. Stark had to be okay. He was Iron Man after all and the man had faced much worse. He’d always come out ahead every other time.
That was the defining difference though. Mr. Stark had faced worse enemies before but Captain American wasn’t an enemy to Peter’s knowledge. While Mr. Stark didn’t talk about the Avengers often and Peter didn’t want to pry, it was a kind word he spoke when he did. Peter never dreamed there would be discord in the world-famous group. They were the Avengers and to all outward appearances they were colleagues and friends. Everyone’s aimed weapons. The scowls and grimaces. All the fighting in the back. All of it aimed at a teammate.
He thought of Julia, Frank, and Monica and shivered. Would they turn on each other given the chance? Peter shook his head at the wayward nature his thoughts were taking. He had to focus on what was happening now.
Mr. Stark’s eyes and his hands holding onto his chest would be burned into his mind. The image of fissured glass and metal replayed over and over. Peter wasn’t sure if he could remember to breath normally.
-
The subway ride passed by without notice as his thoughts whirled around in his head. Somehow Peter made it back to his room ensconced in the familiar warmth of his blanket. He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped to obliviate everything. For a selfish instant, all he wanted was to forget about the afternoon and all the baggage that came loaded with it. He should’ve helped. It was like there was this voice in the back of his mind that knew in some other universe he would have been strong enough to help in some way. It wasn’t to be. He was here in his apartment under the covers in his bed. He was hiding from his aunt and her questions. He was hiding from himself and the disappointment he felt about it all.
Peter’s phone rested against the pillow to his side. He ignored all the incoming text messages from his friends and instead scrolled through every social media and news outlet he could think of trying to get a crumb of new information. There were videos breaking down every scene of the footage released like a movie trailer. Everything was conjecture.
There was one option to find the truth.
Shaking hands dialed the contact and with minimal thought to convince himself out of this course of action, Peter pressed call. The lone sound that filled the air was the rings followed by Mr. Stark’s voicemail. The man’s voice, gentle and teasing, took Peter’s breath away. He hadn’t heard it in so long and yet it felt like yesterday. He remembered the story Pepper told him of how she forced him to set up the voicemail on his number.
“You know who it is. You’re trying to call me so I’m supposed to say leave a number but don’t. I’ll find you.” He could hear the phone being put down and Mr. Stark walking away while talking to his partner. “Are you happy now, Pepper?” He said and they both laughed.
She told Peter over dinner one night how stubborn the man was. How even though he was quick to right his wrongs, change came difficult for him, including, apparently, a new voicemail. The man had griped from across the table but winked at Peter when he insisted in defending Mr. Stark’s honor and told Pepper he was the same way. He glanced up under his lashes when he spoke, confident for the first time that night, to see their eyes soften as they gazed at him.
He scowled at the memory and let the phone fall screen first onto his mattress before turning toward the wall. Peter tucked the blanket higher over his head and wished he had the courage to leave a voicemail, or to call one more time so he could hear their laughter again.
His stomach throbbed as he thought about his internship. He spent so many hours in the Tower over forged metal and takeout boxes with the man. All the time he agonized over if he should be there and listing everyway he wasn’t good enough when it would’ve been, not easy because nothing was that easy, but worth it to forget about all that. How strange and how worth it would his internship have been if Peter had just accepted he was wanted there? At the time he rationalized he was doing everyone a favor. He was saving them from disappointment but maybe he was saving himself the potential hurt. Peter thought of his promise to himself to try and be happy and he realized maybe this was a part of it.
Osborn and his curled smile were the crux of this. The injection of that man into his life had closed off doors he was only beginning to see were available to him. If only he’d never gone to Oscorp.
It was no use thinking like that but his mind kept circling around the two men well into the morning. Nothing fruitful came of it and he was left with shadows darkening his eyes.
May tried to grab his attention. She loaded up his plate with toast and strawberries but Peter pushed it around. His homework beckoned him from his desk but as he sat there, Peter found his eyes wandering to the fire escape and beyond.
His feet pounded against the sidewalk as his walk turned into a run. Despite the screaming in his muscles and the pressure building in his lungs he continued forward, urged by the lack of thought his action was providing. He was so focused on his body he didn’t have to think about Mr. Stark and why he was fighting with Captain America. Self-reflective thoughts were shoved down by the sound of his harsh breaths and for the moment Peter was running.
Hi all! Hope you are doing well and staying safe. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter :/
Thank you all for reading and commenting!
Chapter Thirteen: A New Normal
Routines were the foundation Peter built his life on. Like playing the long game in chess, Peter chose his pieces carefully and played each move keeping the end in mind; only moving when all routes had been thought out. He made his decisions when he knew it would be safe.
But his routine was gone now and Peter was walking on a crumbling chess board. Or maybe he had never been playing chess. Maybe it was a different game altogether.
-
His body stiffened under the sheets that clung to his skin. Peter ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at the sweat at the back of his neck.
A sliver of moon shined through the window and into his room. Peter turned his phone on the dresser, blinking at the brightness of it and groaned at the late hour. With one eye closed he read through the messages and put the phone back down on the nightstand without answering.
He threw a wrist over his eyes and focused on his breath. The sheet moved with every inhale and exhale. Still feeling restless, Peter turned to face the wall. He reached out, brushing his fingers against the imperfections in the wall.
Peter sighed and waited until it was early enough to get up for the day.
-
Allowing himself a few days of moping was hard as he only wanted to stay in bed for longer but he couldn’t stand the hovering May was doing. How she was casting worried eyes on him for longer and longer.
He created a new routine for himself. It was just as good as his old one, if not better, he argued with himself.
He was fine.
-
Peter sighed as he bypassed the hallway he knew Ned was waiting in and made his way out of the school. One in the midst of a crowd.
He slipped away, down the stairs and outside. Breathing fast he quickened his pace and kept his head forward when he heard his name being called from behind.
“Peter!”
The toes of his shoe dangled off the top step. Peter turned around as Flash reached him. Flash put his hands in his pockets and Peter shifted under the gaze of his friend.
“You’re avoiding me.” He said.
Peter rubbed the back of his neck, pulled the hair there when he felt the blush rise on his neck and cheeks.
“No, I’m not.”
“Let’s not pretend I’m stupid. I know you’re avoiding me and the rest of the little group.” Flash said. His eyes pierced Peter until he dropped them to the ground, looking small for once. “We need to talk about it, Peter.”
He was beginning to hate the sound of his name anytime someone said it. Since Oscorp, his name became more of a plea, a worry from the people around him.
Peter glanced at his watch.
“No, we really don’t. I’m late so I’ll see you around sometime.” He said turning around and walking down the stairs.
“Answer your text messages.” Flash yelled from the top of the steps to Peter.
Peter shook his head to himself and continued on his way. His stomach clenched at the confrontation and he turned off his phone, even though it was only a matter of time before something would happen and everyone wouldn’t be content with only trying to talk to him.
Still, they hadn’t tried anything too uncomfortable yet and after the conference he could distance himself further in the summer. He would have to keep working, now in the library, until after their presentation.
The subway ride was full of people on their way to jobs in the city.
It was the same subway he’d taken before to get into the city. The same one to get to the internship.
Peter put his headphones in, blocking out the thoughts that threatened to overrun him.
He was fine.
After he got off the subway he walked by a rusting news stand. Across ten screens a woman was crying, speaking between breaths about being mugged. She called for help to the people and the government to stop the frequency of crime in her neighborhood. She called for someone to help.
Peter pulled his jacket tighter around his body and began walking again. Peter navigated through the other hordes of people and kept his head down.
Barry Electronics was situated across from a Bagel & Coffee and a Starbucks. Barry, the owner, joked with Peter that they would never run out of snacks and more often than not Peter found himself waiting in line, food order in hand.
The small brick and mortar shop door was innocuous and the sign nonexistent. Dave, his Ham friend from Dayton was the one who the one told Peter about the store and their opening.
The bell rung as he entered the shop and rows of transmitters and radios greeted him. Classical music wound through the aisles. Peter sat behind a desk in the back where a Yaesu FT-DX3000D sat exposed. Its parts were scattered across the desk all in place where he left them yesterday.
“How’s it going back here?” Barry leaned around the doorframe, taking in the tense set of his newest employee’s shoulders.
“It’s going well, Mr. Barry.” Peter said. He stood up, pushing the chair in to face his boss. He played with the hem of his sweatshirt before looking down at the man’s shoes. The white plastic covering the toes of the Converse were pealing and brown but the red color of the canvas was bright. Peter looked at his own black ones and the holes forming in the side.
“I just wanted to apologize again, sir. I’m not the best with peo-”
“Now stop there, young man. You don’t have anything to apologize for. Mr. Steffes has been coming here for a long time and you were doing your job is all. Not your fault you knew more about the FT than he did.”
“But isn’t the customer always right?”
The man stepped into the room, pulling the ends of his beard and observing Peter.
“Well, normally that’s right but us radio folks sometimes think we know everything and when a new comer, especially a young one such as yourself, arrives it can be intimidating.”
“Intimidating?” Peter never in a million years would have thought he would be described as that.
Barry shrugged and Peter smiled with a fresh blush and another thought to the sale he’d lost them at his boss’s next words.
“You’re young and you know your stuff. That’s why I hired you, kid.”
At the nickname Peter flinched, curling his shoulders in on themselves.
“Sorry again, Mr. Barry, and thanks for putting me back here.”
The man sighed and Peter stopped himself from remembering another person who sighed the same way only a couple weeks ago.
“Think nothing of it, eh? If you’re more comfortable back here, I can deal with those pesky customers, alright?”
His shoulders dropped a smidge when Barry left and Peter got back to work. He allowed himself to get lost in the turn of the screw and the electrical board.
-
The street lights were long on by the time he arrived back at their apartment. May was already asleep and Peter leaned against the counted in the kitchen watching the ramen spin around the microwave.
He piled blankets over his lap and ate the siracha soaked noodles in bed while trying to finish some last-minute math homework for the next day.
The empty bowl sat on his nightstand beside his turned off phone. Peter worked until he fell asleep, slumped over the Pythagorean theorem.
His woke with a start, chest heaving against his pounding heart. Peter grabbed his t-shirt. Hands raked down his chest trying to wipe the blood dripping off of it away.
He brought his knees to his chest knowing in a distant part of his mind that there was only sweat there. There was no blood now. It was only a memory now.
Shivers racked his spine. Without turning on a light Peter swung his legs off the edge and walked over to his backpack. By feel he found his old notebook and brought it
Without turning on the light Peter swung his legs off the edge and walked over to his backpack. By feel he found his old notebook and brought it back to his bed. He curled under the covers and flipped to a random page.
Peter couldn’t see the words but he knew they were there stained across the page. The indents from the pen on paper created strange patterns on the tips of his fingers. Some were deep and others he could barely feel at all.
He knew his were the deeper scratches. His scrawling handwriting stabbed into the paper in an attempt to sow all his thoughts into something coherent. In the urgency to prove himself Peter often found his wrist cramping and the sides of his hand smeared with black ink. He wrote as if this was all he could, as his life poured onto the page along with the ink.
The other handwriting took up the margins and like small vines plunged into the spaced between his own thoughts on the page. The indents there were shallow, casual, in their impression. They began sparse, only filling in spaces here and there with notes of encouragement or corrections, but as Peter flipped farther into the book they began to intermingle with his writings. The two merged, playing off of each other and entangling.
Tear drops fell onto the pages, smearing the words into something illegible.
And sleep stayed a stranger till the morning. Peter woke to find the notebook crushed between his fist.
He shoved it in the crack between the wall and his bed frame as the alarm blared, before stumbling to the shower.
-
Please answer. We’re all worried about you - Julia.
Peter shoved his phone into the locker and straightened the visor he was wearing. He’d have to make sure to email her the rest of his work for their project later.
Suppressing a yawn, he walked to the front of the café mentally going over the different coffee recipes he needed to learn.
Cindy, his manager, stared at him as he began cleaning the counter and he wondered again why she was a manager at a coffee shop if she was not a morning person.
“You’re taking orders today. Can you handle that?”
No.
“Sure.” he said.
The cash register glared at him. He tapped the counter wishing the shift would go faster and hoping, against prior reason, school would get there faster.
As he typed in the code for a chai latte and toasted bagel, he berated himself for thinking he would excel at a job at a coffee shop.
There were appealing aspects such as the routine which was filled to the brim with recipes and schedules, but there were drawbacks. People, however kind they were at normal hours of the day, weren’t at their best in the morning.
His late hours were making work before school a problem he should have seen coming. But all he thought about filling out the applications was that he needed to keep busy, to do something with his time now and not how to talk with customers.
Not to mention, now that his involvement with Stark Industries had ended so prematurely, he had to make up for it with something for his applications.
Cindy wasn’t as accommodating as Barry it turned out and this morning Peter was taking a woman in a smart suit’s order.
“Right up, Ma’am” he said, not making eye contact.
The woman stepped aside, she was a regular and knew the drill, and two teenagers around his age stepped forward asking what their specials were and how they were made.
He couldn’t wait till school.
-
He couldn’t wait till school was over.
Peter sat in stacks of the library, lunch forgotten beside him. His eyes traced over his work and school schedules again. He swallowed. One more glance at all the deadlines in red and closed his planner.
His eyes closed. He exhaled. The air around him was still.
Peter’s mind wandered around safe topics: his new jobs, May’s attempt at making flan, and the laundry he needed to do.
Someone poked him and Peter flinched back, hitting his head against the books.
“Sorry.”
Ned sat next to him munching on pretzels. The boy glanced over from the corner of his eyes and back up the aisle. Peter went to gather his stuff but Ned interrupted him before he could stand up.
“Don’t go. I- I’ll go if you want to be alone but I won’t pester you. Not right now at least.” He said the words softer than necessary for the library and Peter settled back tensed against his spot.
As if calculating his movements, Ned settled back against the shelves. He handed the bag over and Peter grabbed a pretzel, nibbling at the ends of it.
Ned smiled at Peter.
They sat in silence until the bell rang. Ned squeezed Peter’s shoulder before he hurried off to class and handed him the rest of the pretzels.
Peter held back the tightness nestled in his chest.
-
The time in the library replayed in his mind on the subway into the city.
He’d almost forgotten how understanding Ned could. How patient his friend was.
But he knew the questions would start soon. From Ned or Julia or someone. The curiosity practically burned in their eyes and he couldn’t talk about it. Any of it.
Barry smiled from the front desk when Peter walked in.
“The FT is waiting for you in the back. I got the part she needed.”
Peter nodded and after punching his card, wandered into the back.
May was gone when he got home and a note sat at her place on the kitchen table. He didn’t heat anything up for dinner and played his filled lunchbox back into the fridge to use tomorrow.
Peter climbed into bed, clothes on and cracked his back. He set an alarm for the coffee shop in the morning and refused to think about May’s handwriting and her missing him at dinner.
He closed his eyes and thought about coffee orders and radio parts.
The new routine was good. Peter was busy now and busy was good.
Not two hours passed from when he laid down that Peter jerked up with nightmares clinging to his pores and sweat sticking to his back.
He groped the notebook in the slot besides the bed and laid there thinking about how tomorrow and the next day would be the same.
How he hated his new routine.
Thank you all for reading! :)
A/N: Barry Electronics is a real shop in New York!
Thank you all!
You can check out my fan fiction (Elizabeth234) or AO3 account as well :)
Taglist (message me if you want to be added): @demi-starzak @whatisthou @warmwithafewfrostymoments
Peter pressed his back into the wood. His hands clenched at his sides and over his harsh breathing he could hear May pacing from the other side. Her steps were heavy; caught up in her emotion.
“Peter?” She called through the wood. “Peter? Sweetheart, would you please talk to me?”
He peeled himself from the door and tiptoed to his bed. The springs groaned under his weight but nothing emanated from his mouth. The shrill tone in her voice, the desperation, made Peter flinched.
“You’ve got to stop doing this to yourself. Two jobs? Why didn’t you tell me about the one in the city? It’s such a long way to go after school and then I get this call from Mr. Morita. Falling asleep for the fourth time this week?”
She paused for a moment and he could see her shadows from under the door. The way she would back away with hesitation but move forward again to try and talk some sense into him.
“Sweetheart, I’m here for you. If you need to talk, whatever it is about I’m here, but something has to give. I need you to work with me.”
Peter turned away from the door and pulled the covers over his head. She knocked on the door but all Peter did was huddle deeper under the covers.
Under the darkness he was a child again waking up in the hospital. This time when he rounded the corner and spotted May, instead of running toward her, he began running back to the empty room. The dark space welcomed him but once he was inside the door swung shut. He could see May’s shadow but bars sprouted along the door barring her outside.
He was alone and it was all his fault. He was the one who ran away. He created that distance.
Peter opened his eyes and breathed out when he saw May’s shadow remaining under the door. Maybe she wouldn’t give up. Maybe the others wouldn’t give up.
Mr. Stark did.
He whimpered into the pillow, breathing shallow at the voice winding through his head.
“Sweetheart, I know the school year is over and that you were looking forward to the summer. Well, to you know, but I promise it will be okay. I love you.”
He imagined her standing there with one hand spread on the door and the other on her heart, like she was trying to radiate her love through any barriers in the way.
Peter heard her sigh and walk away. The door to her room closed extinguishing the light under his door.
It wasn’t like he meant to fall asleep. One-minute Mrs. Brzozowski was lecturing about the importance of close reading and the next, the bell was ringing and the classroom was empty. Mrs. Brzozowski’s expression was enough to send him on his way. Looking back on it now he should have known she informed a higher authority about his repeat nap.
It was strange, though. At the time he couldn’t catch his breath. Alone in the hallway, the weight of his teacher’s stare lingering on his back, Peter stumbled into the restroom. The stall walls closed in against his body. But now Peter was floating.
After Oscorp his weightlessness came at a price of bloody apparitions and curled smiles. This sensation was so much better. He wasn’t anxious, or scared, or happy. Peter was just there in his room, and even then, he wasn’t sure if he was actually there anymore. Could he be if he couldn’t feel the very rise and fall of his chest?
He gasped, lungs heaving. His hands clenched in his hair. He became aware of the bed underneath him, how the springs coiled with the movement of his body. Peter opened his eyes, looked at the ceiling, and counted the perforations in the paint. Gravity, gone only moments before, raged its full influence on him. Kicking the covers off, Peter panted at the influx of sensations; the weight pressing him into the ground.
His phone buzzed and he turned over to read it. Hands shaking, he picked up the phone. Julia was worried about all the paperwork due for their presentation in two weeks. She wanted to go over their plan again.
He turned it over without a reply.
The message deserved an answer. The whole team had been more understanding than he deserved. Julia suggested he go to work at the library when they scheduled their next meeting. Frank and Monica gave each other a glance at their assumption of going to the Tower but Julia stepped forward and said he should email his work in for the project. Their questions brimmed just under the surface but his whole team agreed with ready ease.
Soon enough it would all be over and he would be free for the summer.
Peter shivered at the thought.
May’s door closed. He threw the covers back and got up. Clothes already on, Peter stuck his head into the dark hallway, grabbed his keys, and headed outside.
Blocks went by. He walked passed closed stores and restaurants, people waiting for buses, and parking lots empty of patrons.
Peter paid no attention to any of the other people walking on the sidewalk or to where he was going. All he knew was the space he’d been in before hadn’t been good. It was too far away from reality. He wasn’t Peter anymore. All he knew was he didn’t like the emptiness, not when his chest was so full of happiness and people recently.
The emptiness lingered on but if he walked faster maybe he could outrun it.
His footsteps echoed down the sidewalks. Arms flailing to catch up with his pace but he didn’t stop until his lungs burned. He braced his hands on his thighs and squatted down to catch his breath.
Light blinking on and off caught his eye. An old retail store, closed sign bright in neon, stood in front of him. The display windows were full of all different sized TVs.
The face of Tony Stark was plastered onto each one.
The man’s sunglasses were perched on the tip of his nose and with a smile he pushed them back onto his face. Mr. Stark walked head up through the media following him. They surrounded his person, pushing and yelling, but he never dropped the smile painted onto his face. It was the same expression he wore walking down the hallways of the Tower, the same one Peter had seen him use whenever he was on the news growing up.
It was that smile Peter’s heart clenched at because he knew it wasn’t real. He’d seen Tony Stark’s real happiness, the way his eyes crinkled around the edges and lips opened an inch as he sighed before he laughed. The face identical on each TV in the display was a performance and nothing else.
The only question was if his other smile was a performance as well.
Peter watched as he walked up to a clean, grey governmental-type building. Captain America came, followed by a man with grey hair and a mustache. They shook hands with Mr. Stark, positioning themselves in view of the cameras. With a wave all three, plus a line of security guards, went inside and were gone from their sight.
The ground rose up and slammed into his knees. The cameras were pointed at the gathered crowd around the building, all vying for a peak at the famous superheroes.
“Are you okay?” A woman with thick rimmed glasses stood beside him. She extended her hand forward and Peter got to his feet. He shuffled beside her watching as she searched through her bag. She muttered a small noise at finding her prize and pulled out a travel case of tissues.
“Here you go sweetie.” She said.
Peter realized he was crying and hastily pulled out a tissue, dabbing his face before blowing his nose. A flush spread across his cheeks at the noise he was creating. He shoved the soiled material into his pocket with a thank you and his eyes turned back to the screen which was playing Mr. Starks entrance again.
“That is an unhappy man.” She said. The words hung stiff and heavy on the night air. Peter examined the images again thinking about her comment.
Flashes of other press appearances or banquets played onscreen. Mr. Stark wore tuxedos and other expensive clothing Peter had never seen the man in before. His goatee was much the same with its original shape and crisp lines, but it was his eyes Peter focused on; How dark they were underneath and his posture was ridged under the harsh lights.
“Must be the camera angle.” He said and handed her back the pack of tissues.
“Now that might be, but if anyone has a reason to be upset it’s him.”
The back of his neck pricked at her statement. It was absurd. What did Tony Stark have to be upset about? The wealthiest man in New York, unhappy; and Peter could fly.
“And why is that?” His voice was sharp but she just tutted and pointed his gaze back to the screens.
“Who do you see up there?” She said like the answer wasn’t obvious.
Peter stared at the perfectly tousled brown hair and oversized sunglasses. It was a combination of all those things: the hair gel, formal outfit, and cocky smile that Peter answered without thought.
“Iron Man.”
“Ah.” She said and her smiled dropped. “That’s why.”
“He is Iron Man.” Peter said. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and the lady chuckled. She patted his arm and handed him another tissue before stepping back.
“Yes, of course he is young man, but is that all he is?”
She began walking away, leaving Peter alone and more confused than ever.
-
“I said no whip on this.”
The blonde standing in front of the counter muttered the complaint without looking up from his phone. Peter checked the order he’d scribbled down and realized his mistake.
“I’m sorry, Sir. Let me fix that.”
Cindy shook her head at him from the doorway. He ducked his head so that his visor would conceal the flush working its way up his neck. It wasn’t the first time tonight he’d made an order wrong and the line forming behind the counter was proof enough of his influence.
“Come on, Peter.” He mumbled under his breath.
The blonde took the fixed drink without a word and Peter raced back to the register.
“Hello and welcome to The Bitter End. What can I make you today?”
“Hi, Peter.” A small voice said. Julia fidgeted with her jacket buttons but fixed him a smile.
“Uh, Julia?” he said.
“Do you have time to talk?”
He nodded assessing the line behind her.
“My shift ends at eleven. We can do it another time if that’s…”
“No, I’ll wait.” She said and added “I’ll have a small hot chocolate, please.”
The rest of his shift went by even slower. Peter confused two more orders. Cindy yelled at him properly by the third and by the time he slid into the booth across from Julia he was ready to fall asleep.
“You look awful.” She said with an imperceptible smile.
“Thank you. This is a looked I call uniform chic.”
Julia giggled. He set a cup down on the table and pushed it to her side.
“You didn’t have to.” He shrugged. “Well, thank you.” She said after taking a sip of the new cup of hot chocolate.
“How are you feeling about the presentation? I know Monica will be the one giving it but it will be, you know, there. We’ve all put in the work. It should be fine but I’m worried about how professional our prototype will be since we’ve rushed through it all and then there will be the question time after the presentations. I know Monica will do fine but it’s so nerve wracking.”
He shrugged again and Julia leaned across the table. She rested her hands on his fidgeting ones on the table.
“Peter, please.” She said, eyes beseeching him. “Please, talk to us. We’re all worried about you.”
“I’m fine. Really,” He added at her raised eyebrows.
“You know Alex hates me.” Her eyes wandered away from him onto the different paintings hanging on the walls.
“I’m sure he…”
“Doesn’t? Yeah, well, he cries not only when I hold him but when I enter the room. I honestly don’t know what to do anymore. It’s gotten so bad dad will get up with Al when I walk in. Sometimes I’ll sit outside on the porch so I don’t have to make them move somewhere else.” Her hands trembled on his and he flipped his over. They clung to each other as Julia confided in him.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s lonely, Peter. I hate the feeling of having nowhere to go. I’m a stranger in my own home. I don’t remember mom much but I remember her always saying how lucky she was to adopt me. I thought I would feel the same with Alex, but instead all I feel is this guilt for pushing him away.”
It was too close and Peter swallowed.
“Don’t push him away.” Peter said. He wasn’t sure if he was talking about himself or her little brother anymore. “You push your way into his life. Feed him your homemade snacks and hold him whenever he cries. I promise he will love you. You’re sucks a good friend. I know you will be an amazing sister.”
Her cheeks flushed bright and she squeezed his hand. Plans of baby domination glinted through her eyes and the expression made him smile. He wished he could be that type of person. Someone who could waltz into another’s life like they were meant to be there. Someone who wouldn’t give up when there were obstacles barring every passage forward.
“Thank you, Peter. I won’t give up on him yet.”
Little did he know the extent to which she took his words to heart. A week of working mornings and nights, of school assignments and last-minute homework on the subway, and of after school library trips wishing he was in another building forty floors higher Peter was running on empty.
His life outside of everything was quiet. Almost too quiet. His phone now kept on after May forced him to promise to keep it on after not answering for six hours while at work, was dark most of the time. The group chat was silent and there were no more workplace visits.
He should have known it was too good to be true.
Peter trudged up the steps to his apartment. He shucked off his shoes and stopped when he heard voices from the other room. Like something out of one of his more pedantic dreams, he was met with the faces of Julia and Flash.
“Surprise.” Flash said from where he was standing in the corner, ready with a sarcastic smile.
“Why are you guys here?”
“What a warm welcome.” Flash said but stopped snickering with a look from Julia.
“Frank and Monica couldn’t make it but they stand with us spiritually.”
“And where are you standing?”
“Please, don’t be upset but we’ve been doing some digging and wanted to present this as a united front. We didn’t want you to think we were abandoning you.”
Julia went to her backpack and pulled up a folded piece of paper. She unfolded the crisp lines and held it in front of both of them so Peter could see it in all its PowerPoint-like organized glory. On it was tapped, penciled, and highlighted events and information leading up to and including the changing of hands of his Weaver serum.
She launched into a full-scale presentation about what happened and how it came about, but he wasn’t listening. His eyes were glued to the poster board. Somehow, they’d got a hold of a picture of the rabbit. Maybe it was a generic photo, but Peter couldn’t help but think about what was on the other side of its white fur. He couldn’t help but see the blood dripping down the poster board, infecting all of their pristine bullet points.
Why couldn’t everyone forget about it?
He had his new life and they were insisting on bringing this up.
Even Flash was chiming in with bits he heard from his dad at Oscorp.
“Stop.” He whispered. They didn’t hear. They kept going.
“Stop!” He yelled and stood up. “Please, stop. I can’t deal with this right now or ever. Why can’t we forget about it? Hmm? It’s not a big deal. We’ll just leave it be okay. Mr. Stark said he knew so it’s all good. Everything is taken care of. Why are you even here? I feel like I’m in the middle of an intervention.”
They glanced at each other.
“It is, isn’t it? You think I’m some sort of freak?”
Sam Carlson’s face swam across his vision. The flush of not belonging. Mr. Stark’s back turned away.
I can’t work on the project anymore.
“Of course not.” Julia said.
“Well, I am. Can you please leave? I want to be alone.” His voice broke at the last word.
“Come on, man. Be reasonable.”
“You too, Flash.”
“We’re not leaving.” They said and remained in their spots.
Peter melted into the couch again.
“Please.”
“Peter, what happened wasn’t normal and I think Julia’s right. We need to discuss it or something. It can’t just fade into the background.”
“You want me to discuss it? You want me to say how scared I was, how helpless I felt watching what I worked on, be used to th- that way. And Mr. Stark knew about it. He said they have an understanding with Oscorp. An understanding. And I knew it was all going to crumble anyway. Ben died and it’s the only reason I made the fucking serum in the first place. I had to make up for Ben and Mr. Stark saw that desperation, didn’t he? He must have because I can’t go there.” Peter collapsed back and balled his hands into his eye sockets. “The one safe place. It’s gone and I’m alone again.”
Julia moved as if he was a cornered animal. Her arms stretched out in front of her and she sat beside him, scooching closer when he didn’t stop her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Flash sat on his other side and placed a light hand on his knee.
His cries were muffled by a pillow and although his two friends sat on either side of him. Their warm touch quieted the anguish ripping through his chest but he’d never felt more alone.
“You’re not alone, Peter. We’re going to get through this.”
He was the wounded rabbit. Vulnerability on show for everyone and despite the serum’s promise, despite their kind words Peter kept bleeding out.
*Hugs all around*
Thank you all so much for reading! I appreciate each and every person who clicks.
Summary: Peter Parker has been alone his whole freshman year but finds hope when Stark Industries announces a science competition. The prize? An internship with Tony Stark.
Chapter Ten: Fast-forward
-
Beginning of February
“I think we might be able to start the full-scale model soon.”
Peter looked up from his phone, which he was reading his notes he doodled in class off of. Mr. Stark offered multiple times to get him a new phone but he preferred the simplicity of this. When he told Mr. Stark it was easier to use the man acted all offended under his smile. Teasing Peter about his inability to figure out a simple phone when they were working on building a full-scale code and model of tech for cars. It was also easier to understand his thoughts written down. While they didn’t look particularly neat on the page it made more sense to him. Mr. Stark seemed to understand that.
He snapped his jaw shut when he realized it was hanging wide open.
“Really?” He said, dropping his eyes back down ignoring the sinking feel in his chest.
Mr. Stark chuckled and went back to scanning the algorithms.
“We can get a full team in here to work on it. Whatever we need.”
A whole team? Someone to take over what they were doing? Peter flinched.
Their work had come so far. From car models went from mere imaginations, to metal models, and back to hologram full scale models. Their protocol were written in C++ after debating between the Python coding.
Peter found the time… soothing to his mind. Sometimes coming in late at night to work by himself even if Mr. Stark wasn’t there. Friday always let him in with a kind word.
He remembered the first couple of times they worked together Mr. Stark would get into a kind of trance, rock music blaring in the background. While Peter liked the music – he made his own playlist to all the songs they listened to – his head rang after an hour or so.
His expression must have revealed more than he wanted to because without comment the next time Peter arrived the music was quieter.
It was little things like that and the temperature which had Peter settling into their work focusing more on Mr. Stark and less on Tony Stark.
With summer coming up in less months than he thought Peter was sure their time would be cut short.
What he wanted to do was ask the man himself. To beg him to continue working through the summer and next year and the next even if it meant bringing in fifty other people to work on it. He wanted to finish their project, to see their models turn into something real. Something that could help people. The selfish part of his brain suggested that what he really wanted was to continue working with Mr. Stark even if it didn’t end up helping anyone.
Instead what Peter did was stay silent and hum slightly to the music nothing about his appearance gave his thoughts away besides the fists he made every so often looking at Mr. Stark working.
Would he even want to continue working with Peter?
-
End of February
Julia sat next time him while the subway rumbled forward. He kept his legs folded in front of him, fingers grasping backpack which rested on his knees in order to take up less space.
They already passed his stop but he stayed on like he always did riding with Julia.
“Do you really think the permission will go through?” She asked quietly. Julia had fidgeted today in the lab. Her eyes scanned the paperwork over and over making sure they filled out every form correctly. Their whole team practically had their proposal memorized with the amount of times they’d reworked it.
“I’m sure they will.” He said but continued when her expression didn’t change. “It was really good, Julia. You did a great job.”
Peter stared at the glass window on the other side of the subway. Their reflections looked back and he saw her head duck down.
The subway came to a stop and she stood to leave. She ran her hand through her hair and looked at him.
“Thanks for riding the rest of the way with me. Text me when you get home?” Her tone was quiet and it was Peter’s turn to drop his head. “You’re a great friend, Peter.”
He mumbled something and she smiled over her shoulder walking onto the platform. The doors closed behind her but he didn’t lift his head.
Peter switched trains but couldn’t stop the smile from coming over his face.
She thought they were friends.
-
Beginning of March
“Kid… Peter?”
He blinked. Mr. Stark’s hand landed on his shoulder. His muscles tensed under the sudden intrusion but Mr. Stark’s eyes never left his face. Slowly, he squeezed, calming Peter’s pulse, and stepped back.
Mr. Stark ran his hand through his hair.
“Time for food.” He said and waited for Peter to put all his notes away.
“I can just go home, Mr. Stark. It’s no problem.”
The man chuckled and Peter flushed knowing he said that every time.
“I already ordered your favorite from that Korean place down the street.”
Peter stopped walking before hurrying to catch up. They settled around the table piled with way more boxes of food they could ever finish. Sure enough a container of Bibimbap with all tofu, no eggs, and spicy sauce was waiting for him.
Mr. Stark began telling him some gossip he’d heard around the office.
“And how do you know about poor Mr. Singer?” He said, scrapping the crispy rice off of the bottom of the takeout box.
The man didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed when he spoke. “Oh, I just happened to be walking by when his wife came storming in.”
Peter snorted. “Friday told you. Didn’t you, Friday?” He asked over Mr. Stark’s copious denials.
“That is correct, Peter.” He smiled upward at Friday and failed to notice the soft look Mr. Stark was giving him.
“You caught me, kid.”
-
End of March
It would have been easier to accept if the letters were stamped permanently in red across the whole paper. It would have made since in a way – been final. Instead they received a formal reply. One with fancy wording and apologies that had the vague pretense of sounding sincere and apologetic.
This made the news so much worse.
Their proposal had been rejected or as the letter said: “at this time we are not allowing student groups access to our facilities.”
Julia’s face crumpled while Frank swore. Monica began typing frantically but through it all Peter just sat there.
What would they do now?
-
Beginning of April
“You still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want. There’s still a lot of good in the world."
They were watching The Outsiders while he waited. Peter had read it the year before in English but had missed the movie day because he had been sick.
The rain pelted down against the glass windows. Thunder and lightning battled in the sky only an arm’s length away from where they sat. He’d watched many storms pass through from his fire escape but here, this high up, Peter felt like he was inside it. Every clap of noise sent a pulse into his bloodstream pumping the blood through his veins. It didn’t key him up like it did in the apartment. The sounds were loud enough to sooth his racing thoughts enough so he could focus on the movie playing in the background and the soft sounds of response Mr. Stark was making to the movie. He felt safe there in the storm.
Of course, Peter had put up a mild protest. He’d been fine to go home, he told Mr. Stark. But the man took one look outside and suggested the movie. Food was involved, too.
It took Peter exactly thirty-two seconds to decide he could wait for the rain to pass.
An hour later, laden with stir-fry and popcorn Peter was boneless on the couch. He smiled as Mr. Stark leaned forward, his eyes focused on the screen. It was the man’s first time watching it as well and though Peter knew the ending, it didn’t stop his enjoyment.
He yawned and sank deeper into the cushions.
The day had seemed unending and filled with busywork assignments. Things that weren’t teaching him anything but would take all night to do. Ned was gone so he spent all lunch listening to Mike debate the pros of anarchy with everyone at the table. He stared at MJ until she caught him and he ran away to the library. It wasn’t until he got to the lab that he had a moment to breath.
Something touched his shoulder and then with more force he was pulled away from the couch.
The sound of the credits rolled. He didn’t realize his eyes had shut.
Peter could hear Mr. Stark’s voice whispering something and a feminine answer but his eyes stayed closed, blessedly on the brink of sleep.
His head was against a hard surface, a chest, and Peter was lulled deeper by the heartbeat within. A hand brushed back his hair after he was placed on something soft and he could swear the voice said something important but Peter was too asleep to make sense of it.
-
Ned leaned across the lunch table. His hands bordered their lunchboxes in a protective frame as Peter relayed the news from his meeting the previous week.
“I just feel so bad for those Frank and Monica. I mean they’re graduating and everything. This was their final hurrah.” He said, nibbling on a carrot.
“Dude, that sucks. What are you going to do?”
Peter nodded at the question. As it was they weren’t sure.
The prototype of the machine was necessary for them to see before they could come up with a model for themselves. He had thought about going to Mr. Stark and asking him for advice, but he decided not to in the end. It was an unfair advantage that the other teams couldn’t use. If no one else could go to the owner of Stark Industries for help, why should he?
Peter was also proud of the work they accomplished so far. Sometimes he forgot how young they all were, given the amount and quality of work they completed.
The whole experience had changed him more than that though and he was loathe to sit there and do nothing.
“I don’t know, Ned. We’ll figure something out though.”
He could only hope.
-
“Look, Peter. Mr. Stark will understand if you can’t make it today.” May spoke with an edge to her voice. “I forbid you from going.”
“May, I have to go. This is important.”
“Peter, you’re sick. It’s okay.”
He coughed into his elbow, sniffling and meagerly taking a tissue May was holding out to him with pouting lips.
Peter whispered something to her. Something he was too afraid to think but needed to say.
“What sweetheart?” She said and even though he was sick and had a fever May sat on the edge of his bed.
“It’s just,” he licked his chapped lips. “What if he finds someone else to help out?”
He thought of the team Mr. Stark mentioned before. Peter looked away from the piercing glance. His fingers fidgeted with the blanket wrapped around him.
“Peter, he would never do that. You know he wouldn’t.”
She said it with such conviction but his stomach sank. Did he know that?
May kept talking, running a reassuring thumb over his knuckles but Peter was too wrapped up in his thoughts. He went through cataloging every interaction and every word spoken between them.
Peter thought of the way Mr. Stark smiled when he came into the lab and how he would always check the temperature to make sure it was warm enough. The man practically bought the whole menu at a restaurant when Peter stayed for food and it was getting more common for him to stay after a work day. Sometimes they would watch a movie but most times he would just work on homework as Mr. Stark continued with business. But were those concrete signs? It certainly didn’t mean he would abstain from finding a replacement if the work needed to be done. Peter sighed into his hoodie, wincing at the way his stomach was cramping.
It was with the image of Frank helping Mr. Stark in the lab that Peter made his decision.
He realized May had left when she popped her head back into the room.
“Stay home, Peter. Okay? I’m sorry I have to go to work.”
His cough wracked his chest but he managed to tell her he loved her. She gave him one last searching look before she left for work.
After he heard the door shut with limbs groaning Peter got out of bed. He toggled back and forth as the blood ran to his head but with careful steps made it out of his room. His hand swept across the length of the highest cabinet and found the last packet of powdered vitamin C before mixing it in his water bottle.
There was sweat seeping into his sweatshirt and on his forehead by the time he made it to the subway platform and he shivered into it. His breath shuddered when he finally sank down into one of the empty seats, making sure to touch as little as possible. He kept his hoodie up and took small sips of the vitamin infused water, praying for an instant cure.
Friday greeted him when he got into the elevator but he didn’t lift his head up to the lights like he normally would. They burned his eyes.
“Hey, Friday.” He said rubbing his hand along his chest to stop a cough. Even to his own ears his voice sounded tired.
“Are you alright, Peter?” Friday said, softer than normal.
“I’m fine, just a cough.”
Friday said nothing but the elevators opened.
The room was void of people and Peter sat down with a heavy breath. He crossed his arms on the table in front of him. Thankfully Friday must have forgotten to put the lights on so it was dark in the room.
Every minute he sat there, Peter shrunk down until his head came to rest on his arms. Wet coughs racked his chest and he shivered again. It was cold in the room but he didn’t want to bother Friday. The curt tone he used earlier with Friday sent a guilty tendril tightening along his spine.
The doors swept open and bursting into the room with wide eyes was Mr. Stark. Peter tried to smile but from the furrow in the man’s mouth, it wasn’t as reassuring as he meant it to be.
“Kid, what’s wrong? You okay?”
Peter sat up trying to relax the ache in his muscles. He flinched back when rough hands touched his cheek before moving to rest against his forehead.
He felt silly to realize Mr. Stark had moved across the room and was now kneeling beside him. Peter concentrated on the small lines forming lightly in the corner of his eyes. For a moment he imaged being younger and being sick at home, but instead of Ben kneeling in front of him it was Mr. Stark making sure he was okay.
With a shake of Peter’s head Mr. Stark removed his hands and walked away. His voice rung out as he barked orders to Friday and then he was on the phone.
Peter gripped the edges of the counter, tears blurring in his eyes. How could he even think that? The betrayal of his thoughts sent a tear over the edge and down his hot cheek. Worse than that though was the longing he’d felt – still felt - when Mr. Stark looked at him with such concern.
It wasn’t right. It wasn’t his to want.
Mr. Stark came back and led Peter into the elevator. His tone was quiet, soothing, and Peter weakly followed him after brushing his tear away. Friday chimed in to give reports on his temperature. His brain felt fuzzy.
There was an arm, guiding him, warm across his back.
“Come on, Kid.”
They arrived into a bedroom and dimly Peter realized this is where he fell asleep the previous month. He stopped short at the door.
“Peter?” The man spoke softly and the back of Peter’s throat itched.
“But… we have the meeting. We were going to work on …” His brain failed him at the end.
“Hey, kid. You’re in no position to be working. Hell, you’re burning up.”
He sent Peter to the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.
Peter sat at the very end of the mattress, his butt halfway off the edge. It wasn’t his bedroom, just one for guests. There was nothing in there that was his, but Peter noticed that the lamp was where he moved it before when he tried to get some reading in the morning when was there.
He moved closer to the headboard, eyes on the light in the bathroom, and switched it on.
Peter could still convince Mr. Stark they could work today. It would be fine. Mr. Stark wouldn’t have replaced him then as long as he remained useful.
“The work will still be there later.” Mr. Stark said emerging from the bathroom as if he read Peter’s thoughts. “Drink this while you take this.” He gestured to the water and Tylenol in his hand.
Peter’s protest died on his tongue and Mr. Stark spoke again.
“I’m not in any hurry to finish the project. As long as you get better.”
He blanched at the implication of the words.
There was no anger in the man’s face. Something uncurled in his chest when all he saw was concern. Ben used to wear that face well.
Peter’s eyes dragged on his cheek. Another cough stormed through his chest.
“I’ll go fill this up again. There’s sweatpants and t-shirts in the dresser.”
Peter stood up, feeling red on his cheeks. There were clothes there?
He browsed the drawers looking at the various t-shirts - all avengers themed. Quickly he got into sweatpants and sweatshirt glancing at the door back and forth.
With a speed he used when changing after gym class he shucked his shirt and pants off and into his chosen clothes, grey sweats and Stark Industries shirt. His hand brushed over the ironman one but he couldn’t quite make himself put it in.
He settled on the bed again just before there was a knock on the door. Dizziness wavered through him and Peter grasped the bedside table for support.
Mr. Stark came in carrying the glass. The covers were pushed back and Peter found himself lying down. The man hovered for a moment, his hand came up from his side reaching out before dropping back.
“Get some rest, Kid. Friday will be here if you need anything and I will just be in the living room outside.”
Peter’s eyes closed of their own accord and he nodded. Footsteps swept across the room but before the door could close Peter thanked Mr. Stark, wishing he had the right to say more.
“Of course, Peter.” Peter’s throat went tight. The door shut and Peter spun around. He didn’t want to look at the lights shining through the cracks in the door.
Of course, he said like he would look after Peter. As he would have if Peter’s mind conjured up sound for his imagination. Like he cared.
The knot loosened in his throat and Peter locked the guilt away for a moment, instead basking in the knowing someone was waiting up in case he needed them right outside this room that wasn’t technically his.
He reached up, adjusting the pillow under his head and closed his eyes.
-
Middle of April
Peter’s stomach protested as the smell of leftovers wafted from the lid he opened. The nausea from being sick still lingered and Peter found his appetite was suffering because of it.
The cafeteria, loud as ever, raged around him. He pushed the container of food away with a grimace.
Something nudged him from the side and he saw Ned’s profile looking straight ahead. He shrugged and went back to staring at his lunch. Ned’s elbow dug into his upper arm and Peter looked over while rubbing the spot of impact. Narrowly dodging another nudge, he got the hint and followed the boy’s gaze.
Peter blinked at the figure coming forward.
Flash waded through the crowds and tables. His gaze was fixed forward and now that they weren’t precisely enemies Peter let himself feel intrigued by how people just seemed to get out of Flash’s way.
He wondered why Ned was so interested in Flash until the boy in questions eyes moved and landed on Peter.
He was making his way in their direction.
Peter knew from the previous eight months how rare this was and his stomach cramped in response. His eyes flounced back to the Tupperware.
“I wonder where he’s off to,” Ned said.
Peter watched Ned in his observations not wanting to be caught blatantly staring at Flash himself. Despite the itching feeling crawling through his limbs Peter smiled at his friend and the way he moved forward so Flash’s view of Peter would be limited.
Under his lashes he looked up to see Flash continued the straight path to them. Peter held his breath and watched his legs, which seemed much safer than his face.
Flash continued forward until he was a table away. Peter finally looked up at a sound from Ned and met his eyes. The boy stared straight at him and Peter forced himself to maintain contact. Flash glanced toward the doors and back at Peter, his brow quirked when Peter’s face remained in ignorance. He did it again before veering off toward the exit.
The doors closed behind him blocking Peter’s curious gaze, food dilemma forgotten.
Should he follow?
Ned began talking about how weird Flash had been lately and Peter nodded along. His hands twisted in his lap, bouncing in time to the rise and fall of his foot against the ground.
Without breaking eye contact with the door, he stood up, murmuring something to Ned whose eyes flickered to the door. Ned nodded without missing a beat.
As Peter was passing toward the door he briefly reached out to touch Ned on the shoulder before hurrying away. Ned was such a good person…. A good friend.
Backpack slung over his shoulder Peter followed the path his eyes traced before and saw Flash leaning against the lockers down the hallway from the cafeteria.
“Flash. Hey.” He said trying to keep the weary tone out of his voice. They’d seen each other off and on at their time at the Tower but hadn’t seen much of each other at school. In fact, the last time they talked was when Peter had a meltdown in front of him, which was slightly awkward to realize how Peter yelled at him before. Not that he didn’t deserve it.
The boy’s arms were crossed in front of him. Peter could see his shoulder’s tensing and he held his body still. Peter forced his hands to stop fidgeting by shoving them in his pockets. A blush worked its way onto his cheeks when neither of them spoke. Was he wrong? Was he supposed to follow Flash?
“So, I hear you need a connection at Oscorp?” Flash said uncrossing his arms and casually raising his eyebrow at Peter.
His jaw dropped. This was not what he expected.
“Uh… How did you hear that?” He said trying to find a semblance of rational thought.
Flash had the decency to look embarrassed but he answered anyway, if a little cautiously. “That Mike kid is loud as shit. Anyway, do you?”
“Why?”
Flash sighed and crossed his arms again.
“Listen, I’m trying to be... decent. My dad has connections there and I could see if something could come of it.”
“Why?”
Was that all he could say?
“Is that all you can say?” Flash snapped.
Peter shut his mouth and thought about the options. He could lie. Say that they didn’t need this. Then he wouldn’t need to repay Flash for anything. But the image of Julia’s clenched hands and the hours they spent working came to mind. And he decided he didn’t care if he was put in Flash’s debt or that he didn’t know the motivations behind this act of supposed kindness.
Plus, Flash proved changed – sort of – mostly. If he wanted help, well, Peter wasn’t going to say no.
“Yeah, Flash. We do need help, if you’re willing to offer it.”
They nodded at one another before walking down the hallway too close to be considered friends but too far away for anyone to perceive them as enemies.
-
“Sorry, Monica couldn’t make it today but she said as long as we take notes it should be fine.”
Flash stood shuffling on the balls of his feet in the doorway. Julia and Frank were clearing off a spot for him to sit at the table while Peter motioned him forward.
Frank clapped Flash on the back in greeting and welcomed him.
“Thanks man. This is going to be a great help.”
When Flash sat down, moving his backpack to rest against the leg of the table, everyone stared at him. It was the first time after their sandwich fiasco that Peter had seen him look so embarrassed and out of place. He withheld a smile.
Flash got straight down to business, explain the security and how his father got them a tour and question time with the person in charge of the prototype. Julia’s hand flew over the paper trying to write every word he spoke. Without breaking his speech Flash slight a typed-out sheet of all the information. Her hand shook slightly and thought she thanked him, Peter noticed she didn’t look him in the eye.
The meeting passed quick and Peter was pleased with how much Flash got along with everyone. He and Frank spent a bunch of time talking about sports and the playoffs. After some cajoling he even got Julia to talk about their new kittens at home. In turn, Flash smiled as she told him how BOGO would steal all of Free’s food.
Flash smiled at the story. A real, teeth-baring smile.
-
Peter was used to things happening slowly in his life.
It took him almost half a school year to decide to participate in the S.T.A.R.K competition. Days avoiding the sign in sheet until finally he took the plunge. Months after dreading nearly everything he settled into a routine. He was opening up to the people around him.
He thought back to how scary it was considering Ned’s offer to sit with him at lunch. It was weeks until he was able to go more than once a week. He even went over to Ned’s house over break.
But all these things took time and much thinking on Peter’s part. He weighed the consequences of everything before stepping forward and rarely out of his comfort zone. That was safe. That was good.
Things happening quickly were never good in Peter’s opinion. Ben’s funeral came and went so fast. The whole thing sped up like someone was pressing fast-forward. Though he was careful and took his time letting Sam into his life; it took but a second for her to break his heart.
That’s why when Flash sat at their lunch table at the end of the week, Peter’s stomach turned sour. He knew to expect the worse. He foresaw the worst. But there was nothing he could do or say in the moment.
Ned, after a moment of scrutiny, looked between Flash and Peter, then stuck out his hand for the two of them to shake, forever reminding Peter how forgiving Ned was.
How many second chances had Ned given him?
Just like that Flash began to eat lunch with them sometimes. Not every day, but throughout the week he would stop by and join an argument between Mike and Midge before wandering off again. Somedays he would even find Peter in the library when the cafeteria was too much for him to get through.
Flash was quieter than Ned. He would hold himself still, aware of his space at any given time and there was still tension between them sometimes. But it was nice all the same.
Peter didn’t find it so strange that Flash and him became friends so quick this time.
-
End of April
Peter looked around the lab. Scattered on the tables were scraps of paper, all smudged with crunched writing, and metal shavings discarded from the models they had built. His backpack was folded over itself on the floor by the door on top of which his jacket was crumpled.
Mr. Stark stood beside him and if Peter turned his shoulders slightly to the left he could see the slight furrow in his brow. How his hand would come up and rest under his chin while his finger traced his goatee every five minutes or so.
It was his thinking face, Peter knew.
Months of working together and Peter’s steady heartbeat was proof he was relaxed. Content.
He didn’t think about the fact this would all be ending come summer. And he absolutely ignored the itch in the back of his throat thinking about the possibility of never seeing Mr. Stark again.
“I’m still thinking we are going to totally have to overhaul the thrust mechanisms on this side, Mr. Stark. It’s working now, but barely, and it could be so much better.” He said breaking the silence.
Mr. Stark’s eyebrows rose in response but he didn’t say anything. His eyes stayed trained on the new schematics displayed in front of him. He grumbled something under his breath and Peter cracked a smile knowing he was right.
The lab settled under the silence again. Peter moved around to Mr. Stark’s other side and grabbed a Stark pad off the table. Easily Mr. Stark stepped to the side to accommodate his reach and giving Peter enough room to work at the table.
-
Peter yawned as he opened the door to the apartment. He grabbed a box of Chex mix and sank into the couch. His phone vibrated again and shoving his hand into the box checked his messages. The group chat between everyone went off with a near consistency putting his flip phone into overdrive.
There had been time of the subway to look at it but he ended up falling asleep, waking only to find drool gathering on his sleeve where his head rested and to hear he missed one his stop.
Even though he was barely awake now, Peter considered the walk home beneficial. The moon hung in the middle of the sky decorated by a vague face and stars all around.
It let him think, at least.
His third handful came away as the rest, only the little breadsticks and the occasional rye chip. May must have eaten her way through the bag first. He set it aside feeling a cramping in his stomach. Maybe he was still sick.
He yawned again and sank further into the couch knowing he should go to bed, but his bones felt too brittle to get up.
Everything was coming to a head soon. Midterms, Mr. Stark and their work, and the tour were compounding at an exponential rate.
It was all amazing. Peter knew he was so lucky and at times thought he dreamed it all.
But it was sometimes too much.
He wasn’t used to having so many people in his life or having to check his phone throughout the day to see who was texting him.
Who would have thought at the beginning of the year Ned and Flash would send each other memes? Or that Julia would come out and lead one of their group meetings?
Peter smiled remembering how Monica’s jaw dropped when Julia, gently, corrected her on some of the analytics. Or how she gave everyone in their group, Flash included, a newer version of the pen that landed her in the internship program.
He felt so full of life, something he’d never thought possible for someone like him.
And right now, it hurt that all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep for the weekend. He wondered what would happen if he told them. If he just needed some time to disconnect for a bit.
He knew he couldn’t do that though. They would be fine without him, they would move on and continue texting minus his phone number, and Peter wasn’t ready to get rid of them so soon. They deserved someone who was normal, who could sit in the cafeteria for the whole week without feeling bone tired, or someone who could be fully present without worry about sneezing the wrong way.
Peter would get through it and soak everything up. Every laugh, and debate at lunch. Flash’s and his new acquaintanceship. And especially any time Mr. Stark was willing to work together. He could push through it for now.
It would be fine.
He groaned against the couch pillow thinking about everything he had to do and after looking at the calendar on the way he realized something.
It was only a week until they would tour Oscorp.
It's always one step forward and two steps back for our Peter isn't it?
a/n: Hi sweet friends. I hope you are all doing well and you and your loved ones are staying safe. This semester has been crazy, as things get in real life. My classes have been moved online so I can finally start writing again which makes me so happy. I also just wanted to say thank you for continuing to read this story. Every comment and kudos make my week so bright.
Hi all! I'm sorry this is so long coming! Thank you to everyone who has read or commented! I appreciate it so much.
Chapter Twelve: The End
His legs rested between the metal banisters of the fire escape and dangled off uninhibited into the air. Peter pressed the crown of his head between the bars so the two twisted rods squeezed the sides of his head. He focused on the sensation, the cold soothed his headache while the pressure dulled everything to the two points on his temples. The burning in the back of his throat weakened and his eyes, weighed down by tears he gave up trying to stop, were free to fall onto his lap.
How had it all come to this?
His voice had been so broken and distanced, but now through the haze of memory it was clear as a chime and full of disappointment.
The air swept up the alley causing goosebumps to rise on his exposed skin. The sky darkened and the stars were exposed but Peter was too lost in himself. He couldn’t see how the lights shined down on the Earth, lighting the city and making it more beautiful. He couldn’t see anything with his sight blurred by his tears.
He wished he was up there. Maybe if he was a part of the stars everything in his life would seem small and insignificant. Next to those burning gases he could stop being Peter. Even if he was alone like he deserved, he could belong somewhere at last.
The window squeaked and May climbed through the opening. He could hear her mumbling about sore joints and catching colds but the complaints didn’t stop her from sitting down next to him, cross-legged instead of sitting with her legs through the slots. She bumped shoulders with him when he offered no greeting.
“Do you want to tell me why you came running in the apartment without giving me a hug and slamming your door?” She said with a small laugh.
Peter looked at his knees until her hand came under his chin and guided his head up. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. She wiped her thumbs under his eyes, then brushed his hair back.
“Oh, Sweetheart. I’m only joking. What happened?”
Peter whimpered and wrapped his arms around May. Like always her own arms reciprocated, firm and strong. She rubbed her hand down his back while whispering words of comfort. She held him until he couldn’t cry anymore though his heart was left aching from the battles of the day and the absences that were just beginning to form.
“I lost it, May. I lost him.”
Her hand stopped for a moment but she pulled him closer to her hugging him with everything she had.
“It will be okay,” she said.
Peter inhaled the vanilla and reminders of his childhood from her hair as they sat on the fire escape ignoring the wind and stars, but even wrapped up in May’s arms he wasn’t sure anything would be okay again.
-
Earlier
He braced his head between his knees and stared at the tips of Julia’s oxfords. Flash was pacing while the others watched.
“What the hell was that?” Flash said. “What in the actual hell was that.”
“What happened?” Frank said sitting beside Peter with a hand on his shoulder. The other group had found them dazed and escorted by Mr. Osborn. His words offered congratulations to their group and farewell but his curled smile spoke differently.
Monica and Estee said a quick goodbye after exchanging numbers and they all walked out of the building in quick strides. No one talked until they were outside and once there, Flash exploded with a barrage of curses. Frank couldn’t stop asking questions while Monica was on the phone with someone, her parents he thought, but her shrill tone wasn’t helping anyone calm down.
The nausea wasn’t going away and Peter kept his head down. Cement, people, and buildings surrounded him but Peter was floating with no tether to the earth. Not even his breathing or the sounds of his group was keeping him there. He couldn’t stop thinking about and suspended in the memories of the blood dripping onto the white lab floors or the cries of the rabbit. Its small paws tensing and scrambling to get away from the robotic arms restraining it.
Julia stood in front of him, guarding him like before and handed him her water bottle.
“Thank you,” He said, voice cracking.
“Peter, I know Seymour was weird when we were… well, friends, I guess, but this was something else. Did you see how he smiled?”
“Smiled at what?” Frank said.
“And that was your final entry? I mean, Jesus, that was smart but why did they have it?” Flash said ignoring Frank who had turned away from Peter and was looking at Flash for more answers since he was the most vocal out of their group.
“Stop, Flash. Can’t you see he’s not feeling good.” Julia said not turning from her spot.
“I don’t think any of us are. I feel sick now like a ate a bad Subway tuna footlong.”
He continued his pacing and Peter waited for the churning feeling to pass. Julia handed him the water again before moving to sit beside him and he sipped on it trying not to listen to Frank and Flash argue about what happened.
She placed a hand on his shoulder. Her fingers were small but the light pressure seeped into his coat and he was back on solid ground again.
“Peter?” she said softly. “How did he get The Weaver formulation?”
Peter shook his head.
“Does… Well, does Mr. Stark know?” He winced, “You’ve been working with him, right?”
He turned to look at her and noticed the pallor of her skin and the way her hand not resting on his back was fisted on her lap.
“I don’t know.” He said.
“I’m sure he doesn’t” She added, “But that just adds the question of how he stole it.”
He looked toward the Oscorp building. The black panes of glass casted a shadow over them still.
Peter shivered and Julia moved her arm with caution around his shoulder and pulled him closer to her. He continued staring up at Oscorp but rested his head against her shoulder. His neck stiffened and Peter tried not to put too much weight on her.
Flash stepped forward so he was in front of them and they both turned to look at him.
“Look man I’m sorry, but we need to report this or something.”
The nausea threatened to rise up again but Peter swallowed it down. He didn’t think anyone would believe them and if they did, nothing could happen. It was five high school students against a wealthy man who had connections all throughout the city. Asking his groupmates to get involved would get them in trouble. Peter could figure it out on his own.
“I can talk to Mr. Stark. I have a meeting with him already today.”
Flash looked ready to go on another rampage but a look from Julia silenced him. More questions circled around but when no answers were reached, one by one the group disbanded. Monica was the first to leave, not hanging up on the phone as she waved goodbye. Her brows furrowed as she looked at the four of them.
Frank was next as he had practice. He insisted they all text him when they got home. Flash, after more words on the subject, promised to text Julia and slipped away with a glance at Peter.
Julia sat next to him, worrying the strap of her backpack back and forth.
“Are you okay?” He knew she must blame him for everything. It was his idea to go and Seymour targeted him as well. Julia smiled and asked him the same question back, pressing the water bottle into his hands.
“Are you okay, Peter?”
A million thoughts raged out of control in his mind and he shook his head.
“I don’t even care they have it, but what are they going to do with it?”
Julia screwed the cap on and weighed her words before voicing her thoughts.
“We need to fight this. There has to be some way…”
“No,” Peter said without waiting and Julia sighed. “I just don’t want to cause a fuss.”
“It’s yours Peter. You’re not making a fuss and what if they are hurting more animals?”
He was the one who sighed this time.
“You’re right but I’m scared. I was scared in that room and you stepped in front of Seymour and yelled at him while I did nothing. It was so badass.” He smiled with closed lips at her.
“It will be okay, Peter. We’ll figure out what to do. We’re a team after all.”
Peter nodded but after they parted as he walked to his next destination, the remnants warm feeling of Julia’s fingers around his, he couldn’t stop the cold pit in his stomach from seeding and he wondered, not for the first time that day if he should have just stayed at home and slept.
-
He exited the elevator on weak knees. The journey from Oscorp to Stark Tower hadn’t been the calming walk he needed. Instead, the consequences of their outing and all sorts of different scenarios kept creeping over him. The next one progressively getting worse.
There was a voicemail from May and texts in the group chat kept chiming so he flipped his phone shut and turned it off.
Friday was quiet today only offering a small hello as he walked down the hall. He didn’t have the energy to talk so he was grateful for their silence.The hallway was empty as well and for a moment Peter thought there was time to turn around and go home. He could call and cancel the meeting with Mr. Stark.
Peter turned down the hall and stopped short. Blood dripped down the window and Peter reared back. He blinked and it was gone with nothing but silver and white walls. Peter backed to the other side of the hallway and waited until his breaths evened out, not looking away from the spot on the wall.
We have an understanding with Stark Industries.
Mr. Osborn’s voice coiled itself around Peter’s thoughts, slick with oil and venom.
Was it true?
His stomach churned as the doors to lab two slid open. He peered in from the hallway but the room was empty again. Like every other day Peter walked into the lab but unlike those days he kept his coat and backpack on. The room settled as he sat down. It was quiet, too quiet.
He laid his head on top of his crossed arms on the table and scrunched his eyes shut. His work stayed in the drawers of the desk and documents in the computer. The images Oscorp hung just behind the lids and the rabbit’s cries echoed behind Mr. Osborn’s words like a warped movie soundtrack.
He squeezed his eyes tighter until black spots burned through the memories.
It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.
After months of working with Mr. Stark he had to believe it wasn’t true. There was no way Mr. Stark knew Oscorp had his project. The worked together every week! The man knew his favorite Thai order and Peter had begun to open up to him. He had begun to share himself in a way he almost never did.
What would he do if Mr. Stark gave The Weaver to someone like Norman Osborn?
Peter heard the footsteps before he saw him and sat up.
The doors automatically opened and Mr. Stark burst into the room. His normal, cocky smile was gone and was replaced with tight, pale lips. His cheeks were flushed and topped with a grimace that deepened when he saw Peter.
Peter’s heart pulsed and he pushed himself to the back of his chair. The footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent room and Mr. Stark marched toward Peter.
“What were you thinking?” He said with eyes narrowed on Peter.
Peter stood up to get out of the way, the chair clattering behind him.
“Mr.- Mr. Stark?” He said.
“What the fuck where you thinking?”
His was so loud and unlike anything Peter had ever heard come from him that when the man continued forward, Peter backed away. Mr. Stark didn’t stop until he stood in front of him, chest heaving. Peter felt small standing against the wall, like he was three years old again being chastised for something by May or Ben.
This was worse. He wasn’t three years old and he didn’t know what he did wrong.
“Do you know who I just got off the phone with? Do you?”
Peter shook his head and flushed. Mr. Stark was already talking before he could open his mouth to explain.
“Norman fucking Osborn and do you know what he had to say? No, don’t even answer that. He said you and your little friends were there at Oscorp. He said you were getting a tour and that you were interested in the place. You even knew someone who worked there.”
Peter flinched back and the blood drained from his face. It sounded like he was the one betraying Mr. Stark, that he was looking at Oscorp for fun.
“No…No, Mr. Stark it-it wasn’t like that. I swear.”
“It could have been anyone but Oscorp…” Peter shivered at the tone in his voice.
Mr. Stark saw his movement and grimaced again, turning away and pacing until he stopped at the desk. Peter watched as he bent over, hands braced on either side of him. His back rose and fell in rapid bursts.
Peter’s mind spun. Mr. Stark was yelling. He was blaming Peter.
He remembered the first night he stayed after one of their lab days. They ate pizza together and Mr. Stark insisted on taking him home until Peter declined and went on his way belly full. He remembered walking home and wondering why this legend, why Tony Stark had invited him to stay. He wondered why Mr. Stark was even investing an interest in him at all.
He froze at that particular thought and a filter lifted from his eyes. Peter began to inspect their interactions from the moment they met. How there always seemed to be so many questions and how Seymour and Oscorp got ahold of The Weaver.
He was just an investment.
The special meeting where Mr. Stark already knew everything about him, working together on their side project, and all the dinners and movies. Every single interaction was just to get close to Peter; to use him.
It was like Sam Carlson over again and waking up in the hospital to find May gone, to find any hope faded and realize it was fake to begin with.
Peter swallowed and stepped forward. He kept his voice low and beseeched the anguish in his chest, the itching in the back of his throat, silent.
“What do you want from me?”
Mr. Stark’s back stiffened and he turned around with fists clenched at his side. Hard eyes stared at him and Peter stared back, steeling his resolve and readying to hear the bad news.
“They know what they are doing. You shouldn’t mess around there. It’s dangerous.” He said and Peter continued staring, waiting for the rest.
Mr. Stark ran a hand through his hair and instead of looking strong, his back hunched under an invisible weight. Peter thought he saw a flicker of darkness in his eyes but it was gone before he could focus on it.
“I can’t work on the project anymore, Peter.” He said in the end. It was the use of his name and not his nickname, kid, which he’d grown to love that took his breath away. Peter’s heart stopped and he took another step back, his head shaking back in forth slowly.
So, it was true.
He should have known from the beginning working with Mr. Stark was too good to be true. He had let his hopes get away from him and now it was too late.
Mr. Stark turned away and Peter couldn’t help the sniffle that escaped him.
A small part of him urged him to explain and tell Mr. Stark what happened, but the larger part, the self that was bleeding and wounded wouldn’t let him. It wouldn’t matter either way. Mr. Stark had made his choice and he was just Peter. He couldn’t do anything about it.
If there was anything he was good at it was leaving when someone didn’t want him. He walked around Mr. Stark, hoping the man would stop him but he made it free to the door.
Peter stopped on the brink of the hallway and turned his head back making out the edge Mr. Stark’s head, facing the window out.
“Thank you, Mr. Stark.” He said and walked out of the lab, running down the stairs, out of the building and Mr. Stark’s life.
Summary: Peter Parker has been alone his whole freshman year but finds hope when Stark Industries announces a science competition. The prize? An internship with Tony Stark.
Here is link to chapters!
Hi friends. Happy New Year! I'm wishing you health and happiness in the year to come. Thank you for all the support! I can't say how much it means to me.
Chapter Nine: Progress
The motion of the sliding doors caught Peter’s eye and he looked up in time to see Julia entering the lab. A toothy smile came over her face and with a small blush she waved when she saw him. He managed to smile back.
It was just over two months of the internship gone and their work was steadily progressing. Peter was never fond of the intricacies of group work and was especially hyper sensitive to the forming of them in this one. He didn’t want to do anything that would cause the group to collapse or, more likely, implode.
Frank and Monica were the natural leaders of the group and, for the most part, got along with each other. There was this underlying tension between the two that had Peter carefully managing his interactions. When they first were assigned together it was difficult to move forward because they were both trying to prove themselves to the group and then to themselves.
They spent hours brainstorming their ideas. He thought it was a done deal and that they could begin researching immediately but unfortunately, they had other ideas. Both came in with huge presentations. Him and Julia were stuck in the middle of their debates for which direction they should go forward. It would have been funny if Peter wasn’t so scared of their group falling behind and getting in trouble.
Peter couldn’t bring himself to choose and saw the benefits of both choices. He remained firmly neutral and it was Julia, cheeks a deep red, that came up with a plan. It leaned more toward Monica’s overall but combined aspects of Franks into it. Neither party was particularly happy but Julia quietly guided their group together.
Peter thought it was odd how it came to pass. He connected with her because they were both quiet. Both seemingly the followers, the enactors of their group. But it was through this circumstance Julia showed her true cards.
It wasn’t unnatural but something Peter simply wasn’t used to. He knew of leaders like Uncle Ben who vocalized their role and authority. People respected his uncle because of the honor he bestowed to his code and to the people around him. Ned was the same way. Peter watched as Ned spoke to the people at the lunch table the few times he went back. The others looked to Ned on what he thought. Midge and Brian were always arguing about something and when the point needed examining, they sought Ned to do it.
Julia was completely different. Instead of outright leading she guided their group through the members. The situation with Monica and Frank was the perfect example.
He saw her talking to Frank after the presentation battle. She handed him her notes and began asking him questions about why he chose aerobic digestion for their topic and what he still needed to research. Peter assumed they sat there after he left, engrossed in the benefits and negatives of each segment. Later in the week they met again and Frank presented a bunch of new ideas on how they could incorporate his idea into Monica’s. Frank didn’t say anything about the talk he had with Julia and the girl was equally as silent. Peter did see a small smile play across her face when Monica assented to the whole thing and their team began planning again.
There were also little things she did to smooth of the wrinkles. Small questions she asked or new material she would bring that would shed light on a constraint or help them broaden their research. Without all of her inputs, their project would be in a completely different place and she did it all without being the ‘leader’ of the group. Peter wasn’t even sure if the two others knew what was happening.
Julia was also the one who he had the most interaction with. Frank worked on different hours than all of them. Although Peter technically worked with Monica the most, they rarely talked and never about anything else. It was Julia who he felt connected to, which was normally something Peter didn’t feel so easily.
She slowly integrated herself in Peter’s work time. On the always arrived at the Tower first because her school was farther away than Midtown. The first of which Peter was already knees deep in paper at his little table by the window. She told him afterwards she’d been trying to gain his attention for a while and on receiving no answer decided to give up. She sat down and began working herself.
Peter came out of his trance and realized the sky was dark. He stretched and looked down at the desk. There piled on top of the papers was a head of hair. His breath stole away as he realized she must have fallen asleep sometime during her work. Uncertainty coiled in his stomach. Should he wake her or let her rest? He checked the time and saw how late it was. He had to get home so wake her it was. Gently he lifted his hand up and, after hesitating, set it on her shoulder, giving one firm nudge before snatching his hand back. She didn’t move and Peter repeated the action again but this time he whispered her name.
She groaned and lifted her head, revealing a line imprinted into the side of her face. A notebook lay innocently on the desk where her head had rested on. Peter broke out in a smile.
“Peter?” She asked, her voice foggy with the remnants of sleep.
“Sorry, I wasn’t sure if I should wake you but I didn’t want to leave you here.”
She yawned and started gathering the papers.
“It’s alright. Thanks for waking me.” Julia smiled and Peter stared as she went back to organizing. They didn’t talk on the way out. Just wandered down the down the streets until they got to the subway. Her stop was after his but he rode next to her until her spot. It was quiet between them. Not uncomfortable or anything but easy, relaxing.
Hesitantly she began talking about her family after Peter forced himself to ask. They’d just introduced three new members into their family. A small baby named Alex and two fluffy cats. One was named BOGO, short for Buy One Get One, and the other was Free as they were having a sale on the cats at the pound.
The doors closed behind her and Peter continued sitting. Her small hand waved beyond the glass and then she was out of sight. After taking another subway back some stops he got to his exit.
He remembered eating dinner alone that night. May was at work and while his food cooled untouched he thought of the way she let him borrow the notes and her hand, eclipsed by the large jacket sleeves, waving from the platform.
From there on out it was little things like that. Julia would always come over and sit with him at the table. She started bringing in snacks and always had enough for both of them. Sometimes they would talk and other times not. It was little things that had Peter relaxing around her and soon he felt a burst of warmth when she sat across from him.
Today she came straight to their table and Peter began moving his papers to his half of the table.
“Hey, Peter. What’s up?”
“I think I’ve got what we need.” He bounced up on his seat and tucked his legs underneath.
“Really?”
“Yeah! I found out that Oscorp has a prototype of the equipment that would work great. Of course, it would need minor readjustments and actually we just could build it ourselves but we would have to see the prototype and then figure out from there. It might be too much time. And, uh, we’ll just have to see.” He laughed awkwardly and brought his hand up to the back of his neck. Julia sat with a smile crooked smile on her face.
“That sounds great, Peter. Can I see your notes and over the weekend I can email them to Frank and Monica? See what they think?”
The papers were sitting in front of her before she was done talking. She nodded and gathered them into their folder.
They worked into the early evening. The elevators chimed and Friday’s voice carried over the sound system.
“Good Evening Peter and Julia. You are required in lab two.” Julia raised her eyebrows.
“Thank you, Friday.”
“What was that the Friday?” She whispered. He grinned bringing his eyes up in sympathy to Friday. On one of their many talks to lab two Peter discovered Friday was quite the celebrity around the Tower. Friday told him that some of the younger workers would try to get Friday to speak out loud. He laughed out loud when Friday relayed how one person would walk around empty rooms knocking on walls and whispering to the ceiling.
“I’ve been helping out on another project after this one. Will you - are you alright going home?”
Julia tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry about me. Thank you again and I’ll make sure everyone has that stuff.”
“Thank you. Have a nice weekend. I’ll see you next week?”
“Yeah. See you, Peter.”
His fingers brushed against the seam if his pants and reminded himself to text her later that night to make sure she got home safe. He decided to take the stairs and Friday chatted with him on the way up.
“Boss has an update in the coming month so I will be offline for the day.” She said.
Peter worried his lip.
“Will you be okay?”
“I will be fine, Peter. It is protocol, but thank you for the concern.”
He frowned at the thought of Friday being… tampered with. The stairwell was chilly and he pulled the sleeves down around his hands.
“Peter.” His head whipped around and he saw Mr. Stark walking toward him. Mr. Stark walked coolly down the hall, a spring in his step. Peter could image the people in the rooms he was passing by. They would all turn their heads, crowding around the windows just to catch a glimpse of the boss.
He set his hand on Peter’s shoulder and Peter was proud when he didn’t flinch back.
“Hey Mr. Stark. How’s it, um, going?”
“Good, good.” Mr. Stark looked down and Peter flushed at the searching gaze. “Shall we?”
He began heading into the lab when he realized Mr. Stark was walking back down the hallway. Peter scrambled to catch up and filed in line next to the man. On observation Peter was surprised to find his earlier thoughts were correct. As they walked down the hallway people were looking out of their offices. Some looked put out Peter was walking, now blocking their view of Mr. Stark and others quickly looked away when they were caught staring.
Peter wanted to ask where they were going and why they weren’t going to the lab, but the people in the rooms lining the hallway kept distracting his question. He slid his eyes to the other side to observe Mr. Stark. The man was… unperturbed. There was nothing in his body language to give away he was feeling uncomfortable. He walked, well, it was like everyone in the world was watching him or no one was and he was free. Eyes forward, hands relaxed at his side, and the barest of sways with each stride. There was confidence there and acknowledgement of something, maybe power.
“Mr. Stark…is this normal?”
The man looked down at him for a moment and then looked to the side. This turned out to be the wrong thing to do because it sent some of the workers into a tizzy. A giggle bubbled out of his stomach and soon he was fully laughing at the image. Mr. Stark was cracking a smile at their antics.
“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Stark but did you see that guy? You gave him the side eye and he spit the coffee everywhere.” His hands braced on his legs right above his knees as he took deep breaths.
He looked up to see the smile gone from his face. The man looked in deep thought and Peter’s stomach clenched. Was this a taboo topic? Was he friends with the guy in the room?
“I shouldn’t laugh. I’m sorry. I…”
Mr. Stark raised his hand and Peter fell silent. He shifted back and forth, and his hands began to sweat. The elevator chimed and they exited into a living space area. Well, a living room if you were mega-rich, which Peter knew Mr. Stark was.
There were fancy glass tables and bookshelves with only really large books in them. The whole far wall was a window and the skyline view was better than the one at his table.
“This is beautiful.” He said wandering closer to the window. He could feel Mr. Stark following him and the two stood, staring out. “Wow, Mr. Stark. This view. I feel like I’m seeing the whole world.”
Peter could feel eyes on him but he couldn’t worry. For the moment the way the sun’s rays were caught by the buildings and then distributed out over the city was all he could see. Fire rose in the normally grey cityscape and ignited the world like a painting. His breath caught at the sight. The gaze left him as Mr. Stark looked back out.
“It is.” He said. The man sighed and poured himself a drink, fixing Peter a water. They sat down in the living room. Mr. Stark made sure their seats were facing the window. Peter sat on the edge of it. The crisp material was too new under him and he wanted to limit how much he touched.
“It’s always like that and, to be honest, I haven’t even noticed it recently. Not until we walked down that hallway.” He sighed and ran his hand thought his hair. Peter wasn’t sure Mr. Stark was actually talking to him. The man almost seemed like he forgot Peter was there. He could smell the alcohol from his spot and worried the inside of his check about it although he wasn’t sure why.
“It was funny with the coffee, wasn’t it?” He said and Peter nodded, clasping his hands tight. Mr. Stark finally looked up and saw Peter. He must have looked a hundred kinds of pathetic because the man got up. Peter couldn’t see but he heard the sink running and then some tinkering.
Mr. Stark came back with a snack for them and another water.
“It’s been a week.” He said and Peter, feeling like a bobble head nodded again. “You know I haven’t even noticed the view until just now too. But you’re right, it’s like we’re looking at the whole world.”
Mr. Stark stared out again and then clapped his hands, making Peter jolt back.
“Alright. I really wanted to check up and…”
-
The air was cool despite spring ending soon. The cool wicked against his overheated skin and Peter breathed out for what felt like the first time that day. He could honestly say he wasn’t sure what just happened.
The plans were originally to work in the lab. The prototype was almost done and time before the school year was short, but they hadn’t talked about the work at all.
Instead Mr. Stark was… weird. And then he wasn’t.
At first there was such a poignant melancholy draped around him. It was unlike the Mr. Stark he’d worked with so far. The way he stared out that window. Peter couldn’t tell if he was seeing it for the first time or saying goodbye. Then he snapped back to normal.
Peter was left unsure of their words or his responses.
They’ talked about normal stuff. Well, what seemed normal. Mr. Stark asked about school and Peter hesitantly dived into English class. He wasn’t sure with Mr. Stark being a science guy if he would be interested in literature and Peter had seen the state of those bookshelves. To his surprise the man easily conversed about the newest section of Pride and Prejudice they were reading. They discussed the importance of letters as a form of communication in the novel and Peter found himself debating whether Caroline was really coldhearted in the end. It was pleasant to get his mind off of everything. To talk about nothing for a while.
But his maudlin expression and the smell of alcohol stopped Peter in his tracks. Mr. Stark got rid of the alcohol. Peter was sure he saw the uncomfortable look on his face and without making a big deal, without saying anything, he got up and dumped it out. His heart clenched. Maybe he should have said something to make him feel better, if he was feeling ill at all.
His phone buzzed and Peter flipped it open. He smiled at the background. Before he left he took a photo of the skyline and sunset. It really was beautiful. A text came in and Mr. Stark’s name appeared. He opened it and felt a warm feeling in his belly settle.
Peter, text me when you get home safe. Next time I’m not taking no for an answer to driving you home.
He shut the phone and leaned his head back. He wasn’t certain why Mr. Stark was asking about him, but for the moment he didn’t care. With a smile on his face he flipped the phone open once more to see his new background and to read the text one more time.
Previous Chapter Seven: Friday, Friends, and Jet Rockets
Hi Friends! Thank you all for the lovely comments and for sticking with the story. I really appreciate it. Here is the next part!
Peter’s face was lit up by the screen lying in front of him. His eyes stared unseeing at the wall in front of him. The words he received continuously cycling through his mind. The light went dark again and without blinking Peter pressed one of the arrow buttons, casting the glow back onto his face.
What should he do?
There was the obvious answer of ghosting Ned. It would be the easiest and least messy way to get through this whole situation. All he had to do was ignore the message and get on with his life. Maybe avoid the classroom, the library, and any other places Ned might show up. Which could be anywhere. At any time. Ned had a way of showing up exactly when Peter was trying to hide. He sighed and tugged at the ends of his hair. That plan was a lot of work.
The less obvious answer and the one that Peter’s heart pounding thinking about was to say yes. It was such a simple word. Made up of three small letters and yet conveying so much meaning. Saying yes in this case wasn’t just assenting to sitting at a lunch table. No, telling Ned yes was swinging the door open wide to their friendship. Peter was giving acknowledgement that he would be available, vulnerable, and present in the relationship. One that was someone outside of his family and that was scary. It was… too long since Peter had a friend. Someone other than May who was going to be there through thick and thin.
The phone went dark again but this time he didn’t press any of the buttons. He let the light fade from his face and closed his eyes. His chest shuddered as air was trapped in his lungs. He could feel his ribs expanding and the pressure building until with a grunt he exhaled. Peter lifted his legs, feeling the strain in his lower stomach, and tucked the covers underneath him before turning over. He buried the side of his face into the corner of his pillow and stayed there, flipping from side-to-side, until sleep overtook him.
-
“Peter!”
Peter heard his name and ducked around the corner. The brick tugged lightly on the loose threads of his sweater but he stayed where he was.
“Pet - “ He heard a wheezing noise from around the corner as footsteps echoed in the hall. “Peter.”
Peter shrunk back into the wall as Ned rounded the corner. The boy in question stood there for a moment with his hands in his pockets, trying to catch his breath. Peter took the moment to observe him. Everything looked alright. Ned wasn’t avoiding eye contact and his face wasn’t pinched with anger. A knot in his chest loosened a bit with this knowledge.
Lunch had came and went with Peter avoiding the cafeteria and library. In reality he couldn’t decide where to go and walked around the loop of the school. He was absolutely not hiding though. Thoughts of seeing Ned and then thoughts of avoiding him swirled around his mind and continued to make his stomach queasy.
“Dude, I’m glad I caught up with you. We missed you at lunch.” He looked up searching Peter’s face and Peter quickly glanced away.
“I’m sorry.” He said with a low voice. His fingers played with the hem of his sweater. “I was working on some homework.”
“Don’t worry about it, but we will save you a seat tomorrow. We can meet up in C-hall if that’s easier.”
The words were spoken lightly but Peter slowly lifted his head to look up. Ned’s face, like always, was open and earnest, but there was something changed in his expression right then. There was a steel to his eyes. A slight narrowing that sent Peter’s eyes wide. He could tell that Ned wasn’t really asking this time.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll be there.”
The expression was gone before he blinked. For a moment Peter thought he made it up. That his eyes were mistaken, but the churning said something different. Ned smiled and started talking about the latest D and D booklet he got over the weekend. Peter nodded and asked questions about it but his heart wasn’t in it. Just when he thought he wouldn’t be able to pretend anymore Ned started waving and walked to class.
Ned wasn’t going to take no for an answer and Peter wasn’t sure how he felt about it. A blush rose from his chest to neck at the thought, but he could feel some of the headache of indecision that had been plaguing him all week go away.
Truth be told it was probably for the best. Peter always tried to be honest with himself and self-reflect. He knew there was no way he would have accepted Ned’s offer. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. It was just everything Peter couldn’t do. He couldn’t imagine himself sitting there at lunch, laughing and chatting with the people at school. In middle school he sat at the end of a sparsely populated table and read a book. He avoided eye contact whenever possible and never held a conversation with the people at the other end of the table so this was something he’d never done before. It was only in Peter’s dreams that an offer was made, let alone real life.
And though his stomach was still raw and his hands sweaty, Peter was grateful to Ned. The boy knew how Peter worked and how to work with it. He hadn’t been mean or rude, he just evolved his question to a statement. Which was the key. If there was no question. If there was nothing for him to decide or worry about, everything was already that much easier. Now, Peter hoped he wouldn’t embarrass Ned in front of everyone.
-
Peter shifted back onto the balls of his feet, readying to walk away. There was still time. He could call in sick or, better yet, get detention somehow for the lunch period. It would be easy. Well, easier than facing the cafeteria. The memory of Ned’s expression stopped him. It was painted with hope and an honest want for Peter to join him that it stopped Peter from outright walking away. He took a step forward and then another… before swiveling around so the closed door wouldn’t mock him.
Ned expected him to be there. He said he would be there but Peter couldn’t make himself move. He turned around again and then leaned against the lockers. How was he supposed to act when it was difficult enough trying to keep up in a conversation with one other person. Peter’s hair twisted around his fingers and he knew his face looked like a tomato. He was such a freak. Why was something like this so hard? Why did it feel like he was going into battle instead of eating a sandwich? If only he… A hand clamped down around his shoulder and Peter flinched back, hitting his head against the locker.
“Peter, sorry, dude. I thought you knew I was there. I said your name like two times”
He tried to smile but the muscles in his cheeks rebelled. He looked up under his lashes and saw another Star Wars shirt. Ned smiled but his eyes were narrowed. Peter mumbled something about being fine. He wasn’t sure Ned believed him but he squeezed Peter’s shoulder again and nodded.
“Alright, want go into lunch? I’m starving.”
Peter swallowed but a lump blocked his throat. He looked up and down the hall before concentrating on the hand still resting on his shoulder. It was warm and heavy. Not restricting his movements but a reminder that Ned was with him. He nodded and the two walked forward. This time Peter felt less like he was going to the gallows.
The pulled the doors open and looked in. Peter forget how loud lunchrooms were. People talked over each other. They yelled to others across the room and switched tables depending on who had the best lunch. It reminded him of the markets him and Ben used meander through on Saturday mornings.
Ned cleared his throat and Peter realized they stopped. He could see Ned’s face from the corner of his eye and the boy cleared his throat again.
“It’s okay,” He said. “If it’s too much we can just…” He stopped and shrugged.
Shame welled hot and strong in Peter. The invasion in his eyes began again. Peter blinked back the pricks and coughed. Ned was giving him this hopeful look. His shoulders are still raised upwards but his head tipped crooked to the side, watching Peter.
“It’s okay. Let’s do this.” Peter noted how wobbly his voice sounded to his own ears and wondered if Ned could hear it too.
“Let’s.” Ned repeated. He stepped in front of Peter and led the way keeping to the outskirts of the room. They wound through the people waiting in the food lines and stopped at a table along the back wall of the cafeteria. Ned sat down at one end and then scooted down so Peter could sit on his far side.
“Hey guys. This is Peter.” He climbed over the bench to sit down and waved quickly. There were five people already at the table. Brian, Mike, Midge, and Jaimik sat huddled together. The small group had papers spread out on the table between them and they were debating something about the biology homework. Now and then Ned chimed in to add something but they mostly kept to themselves. Peter couldn’t help but notice another girl, Ned said her name was MJ, sitting at the end by herself.
Ned occasionally muttered a side comment to him about what Midge or Brian were saying but otherwise the two sat quietly, listening. Peter glanced up from under his eyelashes at MJ. She sat with a book in front of her, separated from the group. She didn’t talk to anyone and kept her head down. From Peter’s view, looking over everyone at the table, it reminded him of what he would do in middle school. In fact, that was what he longed to be doing at the moment. Forget the world and read.
Ned asked Peter a question and he blushed when caught staring. He managed to get caught up in the debate and him and Midge explained their thoughts to Brian who was still adamant about Hydrogen was the best element. His hands never unclenched though and they were sore and sweaty by the end of the hour. It was nice, normal. Peter felt himself keenly throughout, held his back rigid, and thought before he spoke, but he endured. He endured and found that he didn’t embarrass Ned. He could feel the drain from having spoken to everyone but there was no regret lodged in his chest.
The bell would ring any moment and Ned leaned over to bump shoulders with him.
“Alright?” he said and Peter nodded shortly. The others looked up when Ned stood up. Peter noticed even the girl reading the book looked up briefly.
“See you tomorrow guys. We need to go check something for English.” Everyone waved and Peter stared at the ground at he followed Ned out.
They got to the hall and stopped where Peter and Ned stood only thirty minutes before. They stood shoulder to shoulder, backs resting on the lockers. Peter continued to stare at the tips of his shoes.
“Thank you.” Ned said quietly. It lacked the normal exuberance he had and Peter looked up to see a small smile on his face. He nodded and felt a smile rise up in return. Something warmed in his chest and Peter rubbed his fingers on his sternum to quell it.
Ned was still there standing next to him. Ned was thanking him! He’d been so worried, so consumed with the possibility that he would do or say something that would be Ned’s tipping point. He knew from experience that he wasn’t worried for no reason.
Sam Carlson was the example Peter went by. They found each other their first month of sixth grade. Peter was at a new school and didn’t know anyone yet. Instead of going to the lunch room he went to the library to read. She was also in the library that day and came up to him. They tentatively they started talking. Over the next month She would find Peter around the school and over time Peter started finding her. Their friendship was in its early stages but Peter remembered being so young and full of hope that someone wanted to be his friend.
Peter finally decided to brave the lunch room knowing that Sam ate their most days. He came up to the table and saw her sitting with a group of people. She looked up from across the table and smiled at him. The others turned their heads to see him there. Peter shifted back and forth, waiting to be asked to sit down or something. He saw Sam’s mouth open but then a different boy spoke out, ridiculing Peter’s glasses. Peter’s eyes widened and red stained his cheeks. He looked over at Sam as others joined in, their words morphing into laughter as he continued to stand there. Sam looked away from him and shut her mouth.
Standing there with Ned, Peter remembered the utter terror that seized him when someone asked her what his deal was. He could remember the silence and how hard he gazed at her, pleading with his eyes for her to just look at him. He could take the taunts all day if she was still his friend, but she never looked up. Her eyes stayed down and she spoke the words he would never forget.
“Yeah, he’s a real freak.”
He ran, tears blurring down his cheeks and neck through the halls until he got to the bathroom. There he stayed until May came and found him.
Ned bumped his shoulder again and Peter shook his head trying to dislodge the thoughts of his middle school time. Nothing liked that happened today. It turned out fine. He was fine.
“So…” Peter looked back at Ned and blushed when he realized he’d been thinking for too long. “I was thinking that tomorrow we could just eat in the classroom again. Jaimik and Brian said they were going to be bringing their D and D booklets to school to go over for a tournament they’re in and I do not want to get in the middle of whatever may happen. That okay with you?”
The tension in his chest drained some and his shoulders stooped down as he exhaled.
“Yeah, yeah. That sounds good.”
It sounded more than good to Peter. As much as he was happy that today went well, as much as it felt nice sitting there, he didn’t think he could do it again. Ned raised his arm and Peter flinched back, blushing. The boy lowered his arm around Peter’s shoulders and squeezed them together. They smiled at each other and the warm feeling returned in his chest. Peter honestly didn’t want to go into the jungle that was the lunch room. Maybe another time this week he would, but not tomorrow.
Hi all! Hope you and your loved ones are all staying safe.
This chapter contains violence geared toward animals and a death (off screen) of an animal.
Chapter Eleven: Welcome to Oscorp
Monday
Peter took a deep breath before stepping into the elevator.
He had thought to bring a card or something more lavish like flowers maybe, but the realities of who Friday was came back to him along with a burst of blush. It would have to come down to his words alone, which was the reason his palms were sweating already.
The doors slid shut behind him. He cleared his throat before his customary greeting.
“Hi, Friday.” He said, wincing at a bubble in his throat.
The elevator stayed silent and his stomach fell. Friday had every right to be upset. He’d practically blown them off when he was sick and ignored it in the following days he came to the Tower. Yesterday Peter had even taken the stairs up to the lab. Worse of all was he knew Friday deserved an apology and not ignorance.
They were friends after all.
He rubbed his palms against the seam of his jeans when the silent treatment continued and he took another breath.
“Friday, I wanted to apologize for my tone the other day.” He said staring up at the lights because he always pictured Friday there for some reason. “It was rude and you deserve better than that.”
He paused, waiting for a response but again none came. The doors opened but he stayed where he was for another moment.
“So anyway, I’m so sorry.” He shuffled his feet back and forth and with a drooped head stepped out of the elevator. “Thank you for the ride.”
Peter walked down the hallway cringing at how lame he must have sounded. He knew he should have written it down before or brought something to make it up to Friday.
Mr. Stark was already in the lab when he arrived. It was earlier in the day because his group cancelled saying they would take it easy this week to prepare questions and anything for the tour.
That meant Peter had more time in lab two.
He dropped his stuff down by the door. His backpack folded down in its familiar way and he laid his coat overtop of it.
This routine wasn’t enough to stop him from feeling lopsided.
In his life, Peter had many experiences with apologies. What he didn’t have an experience with as much is an apology to someone he cared about. Peter wielded his apologies like a tightly formed defensive mechanism. It was something he could say to defuse a situation quickly getting out of hand. It was a word, while being earnest, he could say to let the other person know he was listening but not quite expressing himself well. But apologies tangled with regret and hope was something he was less familiar with.
As he walked to the desk Peter thought of the ways Friday would greet him. Their tone of voice was steady and their banal chats would calm any lingering stress from school before he made it to the labs. Friday monitored him right along with Mr. Stark when he was sick. There had been a little email of his full health writeup in his inbox the next morning, complete with temperature updates on the hour. A small ‘feel better’ typed at the bottom of the email.
He swallowed the guilt down.
“What’s up kid?” Mr. Stark said without looking up.
Peter took his seat to the right of Mr. Stark and pretended to read over his notes. His fingers strummed in no particular beat on the desk. He didn’t notice Mr. Stark’s head turned his way.
“Mr. Stark?” He said after a moment. When he looked up the man was already bent over the desk with eyes full of holograms.
“Hmm? What’s up?”
Peter strummed his fingers again not daring to look up yet. He’d noticed Mr. Stark would do that now. Ask an open-ended question or hum before waiting for a response. It never failed to make Peter uncomfortable. Normally the people Peter interacted with would fill the stretched-out silence. Like some sort of sixth sense they could perceive the tension and would start to talk about anything they thought of. This was ideal for Peter.
But Mr. Stark didn’t do that. The man seemed perfectly at ease in their shared quietness. He didn’t notice when Peter fidgeted in his seat when ten minutes passed. Sometimes Mr. Stark would gently ask Peter again and sometimes he would let the silence ride out.
He wasn’t sure which was worse to be honest.
And he was left disappointed time and again when he couldn’t work up the courage to take the bait. The fear of answering a question he wasn’t sure had a right answer was just too much.
The silence drew onward, crushing Peter after his latest failure to Friday.
He heard Mr. Stark sigh. It was so quiet he wasn’t sure if it was real or imagined but heat bloomed across his cheeks and the palm resting on the desk left an imprint of condensation when he clenched them in his lap.
“You hungry, Peter?” Mr. Stark said after some time had passed.
“Um, it’s okay, Mr. Stark. No worries.”
Food was the last thing on his mind and now he was thinking about it his stomach had been off since he was sick, but Mr. Stark went ahead with the food.
“J.O.C.A.S.T.A. can you order some burritos for us? Four vegetarian, one tostada, and then two of their flans, please?”
A smooth voice responded over the speakers.
“Sure thing, Boss.”
Peter’s hands stilled at the voice. The one that was definitely not Friday.
“What… Where’s Friday?” He said, gripping the edge of the table.
Mr. Stark turned his head to look at Peter, surprise evident in his widened eyes.
“Friday is just going through some updates, Kid.” Peter grimaced. “It’s standard protocol. We’re making sure everything in Friday’s hardware is up to date.”
The breath left his chest and a laugh bubbled out of his chest thinking about how ridiculous he was. Mr. Stark turned further toward Peter and raised his eyebrows.
“I just… I was talking and...” Peter breathed in and burst out giggling again not even stopping when Mr. Stark’s hand clapped on his shoulder.
When he could stop enough to explain what happened, it was the first time he’d ever heard Mr. Stark really laugh.
-
The next time Peter spoke to Friday was reading from a text message he sent to himself. There was no way he was going to chance it and mess up again.
Friday forgave him without hesitation. After telling Friday, “I missed you,” he ran out of the elevator before slumping against the wall and smiling up to the ceiling.
Tuesday
Peter ran into the lab just in time. He braced his hands on his knees working to keep his breath even before entering the door. Making sure it sounded normal though all he wanted to do was suck all the oxygen up in the room.
Without looking up he set his backpack down, watching it fold against the wall and then put his coat over it. He expected to see Mr. Stark already working like he normally was.
Instead, lab two was empty.
Peter sat in his normal chair, notebooks lined on the desk, waiting for Mr. Stark. He scribbled out some new ideas and started on homework.
Lost in the midst of Shakespeare and the mischievous Puck, Peter failed to notice the darkening sky. With one last glance around the lab Peter packed up his stuff, lingering in the doorway. Friday wasn’t sure where the man was either and his hesitation grew.
Should he wait or go?
“I’ll let you know once he arrives, Peter.” Friday said. “It’s dusk now. You should go home.”
He left a single piece of paper on the desk with wrinkled with a hasty message.
Peter sat, restless and denied of sleep on his fire escape, listening to the sounds of the city. It was past the witching hour when his phone lit up with a notification.
Wednesday
The end of the day brought the arrival of a resurgence of weariness in his bones. Careful to follow the bends in the path Peter made his way home. He stepped around a sunken pothole where the cement was torn up, scattered into the street, and began walking on a dirt path. The dirt was well-worn and he imagined, if he looked hard enough, there were small footsteps etched into the path from the children who would run and play there in the summer.
As he entered the small apartment the sounds of his aunt puttering around the kitchen flooded him along with the smells of her famous spaghetti.
“Hi May,” he called from the entryway lining his shoes with the others in the hallway. She yelled back and Peter smiled when he heard a crash of dishes followed by gruntled rumbling from May.
The foreign feeling of his stomach growling led him into the kitchen. He hugged May and grabbed the bowls from the counters, setting them on the table. With their plates loaded, May began talking about work and with little prompting went on to bash her boss.
“And how was your week, sweetheart?” She asked, wiping a trail of sauce down her chin.
“Oh, you know… the usual.” Peter twisted his own spool of noodles before answering.
“Okay.” She said not giving up. “Give me one good thing that happened with Ned.”
“I ate lunch with them the other day. Mike asked me what Harry Potter I thought was the best.”
“Your answer?” she said already knowing.
“Book or movie?” They said together and Peter smiled at his aunt.
“What’s one good thing that happened at the internship?”
This one he knew without thought.
“Frank lost a bet with Julia so now he has to wear pajamas to all our meetings, also his meetings with Lee, and not say anything.” May giggled and proclaimed she had to get to know Julia.
“And what’s one good thing that happened in the other project?”
“May...” he whined but all she did was repeat the question.
“I-” He thought about the warped memory. The one where Mr. Stark was checking his temperature. He thought about all the number of things he could say but he simply went with: “Mr. Stark told me good job last week” and left it at that ignoring the way the back of his throat seized up.
After dinner they sat on the couch watching reality TV. May was obsessed with the housewives and Peter was happy to cuddle next to her until he fell asleep.
The apartment felt like home for the first time in a while.
Thursday
Peter entered the lab, dropping his backpack in its spot. A sigh of relief escaped him before he could stifle it.
There was Mr. Stark sitting at the desk. Back from wherever he had been.
He was talking on the phone and hadn’t noticed Peter’s arrival. He stretched his legs under the table and tried not to eavesdrop.
“Jesus Rhodes… I couldn’t stop hearing his voice if I tried. The man can literally not stop talking… Yeah, look I’m on it but I don’t trust a single particle of oxygen around the guy.”
He looked toward Peter who gave him a small wave and returned to his notes to continue giving the air of privacy.
“Look, I’ve got to go. No, it’s not a lady. Yes, I won’t promise not to look into Ross.” Peter could hear yelling on the other end of the phone and smiled. Mr. Stark said goodbye and ended the conversation with a flick of the wrist.
Mr. Stark smiled at Peter, setting his phone down on the desk. Peter couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes or the shadowed lines tightening around his mouth.
“Hey, Kid. Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. I was early and all. Friday wasn’t very talkative, not that I was either but I was out of school early and I didn’t mean to listen in and …”
Mr. Stark chuckled. “It’s alright, Kid. There’s nothing to worry about.”
They set to work but Peter couldn’t help notice the tense set of his shoulders. A slab of copper hit the desk and Mr. Stark twisted toward him.
“Kid, I hate to do this. Really, I do. But,” he ran a hand through his hair. “The call wasn’t about nothing and I need to do some research for it. I know it’s bad timing today and we have this time…” Now it was Peter’s turn to reassure Mr. Stark.
“Ah, I get it. No worries I can just,” he motioned to his backpack but Mr. Stark held up his hands.
“Stay here and work if you want. This lab is yours as much mine.”
Peter swallowed as Mr. Stark left lab two. His commanding voice already resonating through the hallway as he talked into his phone. Peter’s fingers were clenched shut and he hastily uncurled them under the table. A gnawing empty space hollowed out in his chest but with a quick shake of his head, making sure to file the name Ross away, Peter got back to work.
Friday
Peter stretched his arms over his head flattening his palms on the wall. They shook with the weakness that comes in the wake of sleep and a lazy yawn overcame him, urging him to go back to sleep.
Knowing that wasn’t an option he opted to turn toward the window before his second alarm went off. His bed was at just the right angle he could see out past his fire escape and at the buildings across the way. While his window mate hardly opened the blinds, something he was grateful for, the small family above them hardly shut them. Peter could make out the plants growing up the balcony bars towards the sun. He unpeeled his hands from the wall and without moving more than he had to inched the window open. Their radio leeched into the room and Peter hummed along while he ran through the list of everything to do today.
There was English reading to be done- most likely on the subway to school. Right before lunch period they were set to leave school and take the subway to the groups meeting spot. May called ahead last night to let the school know he was leaving early. Mr. Washington practically invited Peter to take the week off if he needed it to work on the internship which had May laughing. Then they would go to Oscorp, the butterflies in his stomach flared up at the thought, and back to the Tower to work with Mr. Stark.
He groaned into the pillow. It would be a busy day and all he wanted to do was sleep.
Four alarms and twenty minutes later Peter was running with toast in hand to catch the subway. A copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream tucked under his arm.
He wasn’t sure if his leg had stopped bouncing all day. He was certain that Mrs. Brzozowski’s face was going to be stuck in an exasperated scowl if he were to remain in her class for a second longer.
With blessedly good timing, something rare for high school, lunch came before Peter knew it. Ned knew all about his fieldtrip so Peter made his way to the steps outside, scanning the students for Flash.
It wasn’t strictly necessary for him to come along with their group, but Flash insisted. Peter secretly thought Flash wanted to skive out of the chemistry exam today. No one during the group meeting put any objections up and he had been the one to get them the passes so it was decided.
He leaned against one of the pillars outside of school. Peter wasn’t sure how a pair of shoes could be so white but he’d heard some other freshman talking enviously about them earlier. Peter tapped his finger against his jeans before walking forward.
“Hey,” he said pulling the straps on his backpack tighter.
“Parker, you ready?”
After the third time asking if Flash had the passes the boy shoved them into his hand.
“You keep track of them then, why don’t you.”
Peter thumbed through them, cataloging the different receipts and put them in his backpack for safekeeping.
He missed the look Flash sent over as his leg continued to bounce up and down and therefore was startled with he began talking about his own team’s project. The subway provided a numbing white sound and Peter fell into the easy role of listener, giving small utterances and, when desperate enough to keep Flash talking, asking questions.
“We’re in the final stage of editing now and the presentation’s almost done but Olivia is still freaking out.”
“Over what?” Peter asked.
“Hell, if I know. Wait until you see it, though. Our project is good.” He said. At the beginning of the year without hesitation Peter would have thought it was an arrogant response. Maybe it still was but all Peter did was smile and feel a sliver of pride for them.
This continued in a similar vein as they walked up the stairs and onto the sidewalk. They weaved through the sidewalks, eager to get away from the crowds until Peter spotted Frank.
He tugged on Flash’s sleeve and the two of them made their way over to his fortunately tall group member.
“What’s up guys?” Frank’s loud voice carried over the crowds. As they got closer Peter could make out Julia standing next to him. Monica met up with them farther down the street in front of a coffee shop.
Peter hung back, watching the mismatched group journey toward their destination. It was crowded, even for New York, and Frank took the lead. His height and the intimidating set of his browbone warded their path clear. He hid a smile with his sleeve when Frank, in mock deference, bowed to their group as they turned a corner.
The peace wouldn’t last for long. Peter heard Monica and Frank debating about who should be the spokesperson for the tour. Each argued their own merits and Peter could see the beginnings of sparks flying out of their ears when Julia stepped away from where she had been talking to Flash and told them it was Monica’s job because she was technically head of the group. She was also dressed the nicest out of all of them.
With an air of dignity, she pushed her chin up at Frank who didn’t really seem to get why that mattered. Peter did think her maturity a little dashed when she stuck her tongue out at Frank when she thought no one was looking.
Peter looked down at his own pants, bordering too short and the sweatshirt he wore almost every day. Maybe he should have dressed better.
The last corner passed without incident and Peter’s eyes were drawn to the skyscraper in front of them.
Glass windows plunged up into the clouds looking like they continued on into the heavens
If Peter once thought Stark Tower was an extension of heaven, gracing earth with its intricate and seamless structure, then this building in front of him was entirely the opposite. It was like a scorched earth; the hardened molten material of its core was penetrating into the sky. Its black panels tore through the clouds, forcing your eyes on it. Large, bold letters tinted with green glowed at the top, watching.
Oscorp.
He shivered.
“Peter?” Julia called from ahead. He hurried to catch up, each step bringing him under the shadow of the building. It was ironic, he thought, the steps would lead down to the entrance, not up.
Standing away from the line of people waiting, Peter bent down and grabbed the papers out of his backpack before handing them to Flash. Their group watched as he talked to the receptionist. He returned with badges labeled guest.
“We have to wait here for our guide and we’re all set to go.”
Flash began to point out various awards hanging around the lobby stopping when a bored looking woman came up to them.
“Team Stark?” She said raising her eyebrow at their group nickname. Monica nodded and stepped forward to shake the woman’s hand.
“My name is Estee and I’m one of the junior research members here at Oscorp. Mr. Thompson was kind enough to orchestrate this for you today. I hear you’re interested in the anaerobic turbine? We will go see that amount other facilities today. Follow me.” She said this with an efficiency of someone always five minutes late. They looked at each other and then followed behind.
“And this is where we test all the equipment contracted out to NASA among other companies.” She pointed to a large dome like room in the center of the building. The elevator they took was on the outer wall, but it was too difficult see out the dark glass.
“No way.” Monica replied with an uncharacteristic amount of enthusiasm. “You came up with the nanotube trenches technique?”
“I didn’t but, yes, Oscorp had a hand in it.”
“Those copper filings between the trenches are used all the time now in their equipment and spacesuits.”
They all looked at her and she shrugged murmuring something about being interested in space. Estee smiled for the first time since meeting her and they continued to talk about the different thermodynamic technologies utilized today. As they continued the tour Peter noticed her voice was quiet enough only Monica could hear.
“Aren’t they cozy?” Flash said and Peter elbowed him.
Their model was next and they were all interested in the introduction of chemicals to up the rate of decomposition while still keeping the end product viable.
“This anaerobic design catches the methane produced which can be further used for heating and electrical generation.” Estee told them and promised to send the analytics and design to them later.
Peter and Flash stayed behind to take a look at how the compost was loaded into the device. Flash drummed his fingers along the railing, complaining to Peter he had “already seen everything in this place” while Peter took notes. For the sixth time Flash glanced at his watch mumbling that now school was officially over he should duck out and go home. Peter didn’t respond.
The back of his neck prickled and he heard Frank ask: “Hey, what’s in there?”
They all looked over to see a restricted personal sign. She sighed, first making it clear how many times the question came up in tours and then explaining it was where they did confidential lab exercises usually not open to the public.
It was normal for a facility like this to have a space like that. Peter had seen one at the Tower but that didn’t stop his curiously from being peaked. He wasn’t the only one. They all looked at each other in agreement. Monica, in a rare display of deception, stepped closer to Estee.
“Do you get to work in there?” She asked Estee, her eyes trained on their tour guide.
“Yes, all personal above a certain security are encouraged to do their research there.”
Monica stepped forward a hair into Estee’s space and Peter watched as a wisp watercolor blush stole across both of their cheeks.
“That’s so cool. I would - we would - love to see what you’re working on. If that’s possible.”
Estee regarded them each then returned her eyes to their leader. There was doubt in the furrow between her eyes but after a moment – breaths held in their collective group – she motioned them forward.
Even Flash perked up as they walked toward the red signs. The door locks clicked open and they were in.
“Follow me.” Estee instructed with Monica on her heels, followed by Frank. The rest of them tagging behind at a slower pace trying to take everything in.
“Have you ever been back here?” Peter asked Flash, eyes not moving from all the people.
“Nah, my dad would never let me back here. Look at that thing,” he said pointing to something that looked like a laser. “It’s dangerous and so cool.”
His eyes hovered around its red tip imagining all the destruction it would do when glowing hot.
Someone on the lower level caught his attention.
There, in all the chaos of science, was Seymour. Flash and Julia stopped next to him where he halted and followed his gaze.
“Shit.” Flash said when Seymour looked up from his computer.
He smiled at them slowly and Peter’s stomach clenched thinking of how that same smile appeared when they saw each other at the internship finals. The phantom pain of a blow to his back tingled on his spine. Flash stood frowning next to him. Peter wondered if they were still friends.
“Who is that?” Julia whispered.
Spurred on by her comment, Flash tapped their arms and turned them the other way, aware Seymour had left his station to follow them.
Their group came to a reluctant halt at the sound of their names.
“Look who it is. Did you have to beg Daddy to get you in here Flash?”
The trio turned around to look at the intruder. His chest was pushed forward, Oscorp badge gleaming in the light. Flash smiled wide and like he’d been doing it forever relaxed into a confident stance, legs apart and arms to the side. Peter thought he saw a flare of uncertainty in his eyes but it was gone.
“Seymour,” he said. “You work here man?”
Peter was suddenly aware of the thrumming in his veins. Without thinking his eyes went to Flash. His tone was friendly enough but there was something weary, maybe the way he stepped slightly forward in front of them, in the interaction. He’d never asked Flash what happened in the fallout over the winners of the internship only observing during his lunch days with Ned that Flash hadn’t been so chummy with Seymour after. At the time it seemed like none of his business. Now it did. Sorry wouldn’t help in this situation.
“What else would I be doing here? Touring?” He said heavy with sarcasm.
“Look, we’ve got to go.”
Before Peter could breathe Seymour stepped into Flash’s space. He wound an arm around his shoulder, staring at Peter the whole time.
From a stranger’s perspective it would be easy to image an alternative perception of this whole encounter. Catching your schoolmates’ eyes across the room before rushing over and greeting them with a smile. Simple.
“I insist on showing you guys around. After all, it’s technically because of you I’m here. Right, Flash?”
Not so simple to get away though. Flash strained against the arm around his shoulder and stepped away. There was a tightening around Seymour’s mouth but he said nothing.
“It was fair and square and you know that. I tried explaining that to you.”
Seymour grimaced. They moved into an area less densely populated. No one from their group, not even Estee, was in sight.
“That’s what you said anyway.” Seymour ripped his badge from his jacket and swiped it. This time Peter held no curiosity about what was kept beyond the door. He stepped closer to Julia.
Their footsteps rang alone in the hallway, closed labs framing them in on either side.
“I’ll think you’ll like what’s in here.” Seymour said giving Peter a wink.
The door closed behind them, sinking them further away from their team. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing and the overwhelming sound of his heart.
On the wall across from them glowed a still image of a rabbit. Seymour must have turned on live footage because it started moving around the cage, nosing the hay and feed scattered about the cage.
Two arms reached into its space, the doors they emerged from snapping shut leaving no room to escape. The whirling mechanisms were open to see under a clear layer of protection, some type of pliant plastic Peter guessed. The rabbit stopped, nose twitching as it watched the arms move in closer. With a snap, the arms seized the rabbit up, holding it in place despite the thrashing and scared noises playing over the audio in the room.
Peter saw Flash take a step back out of the corner of his eye.
The camera filming moved to zoom in on the other side of the animal. Peter’s face paled. The new angle revealed an open wound on its side. Dried patches of brown and glistening red covered the fur and hind foot. He could see the patches of it staining the bottom of the cage and moved to look at his feet. For a moment, Peter swore similar patches were in the concrete where he was standing.
“Watch this,” Seymour said without taking his eyes off the projection.
Another arm entered the frame carrying a small clear vial. The rabbit twitched uttering another squeal when the arm tipped the vial over and a transparent liquid rushed onto the wound. It sunk into it and created a pinkish layer of congealed mucous. Then it started moving. Before their eyes the wound began to close up. Another projection started underneath showing a microscopic look at what was happening.
It was a process he knew all too well.
The rabbit shook, trying to pull away from the arms. Its small squeals echoing around the room. Small tears formed in the gelatinous mesh concealing the blood from view. It increasingly fractured the more the animal fought, scarring into the center of it. After no more than five minters, though it felt like forever, the tear connected in the middle and dripped off, leaving a larger, more enflamed wound than before.
The arms tightened around the rabbit and before they could utter any protests the hologram shut off. The audio did not and after a heart wrenching there was a dull thud.
Someone started talking, gloating over their protests at them – at Peter, but there was a film blocking his thoughts. He could not move, only stare at the grey wall. Someone grabbed his arm. Flash, he thought. Then a soft face was standing before him, whispering to him and holding one of his hands.
Sounds and smell and feeling come roaring back. He remembered the feeling of going on a water slide when he was young. The plastic tubes blocked out the sounds of the water park leaving you falling with nothing but your own thoughts and the water. At the last moment, when he thought everything was helpless, the water came rushing out into the pool right before the tube emerged into the world again.
Julia let go of his hand but stayed next to him. Flash continued to look between him and Seymour.
He should have stayed in bed today.
“Well, Parker. Congratulate me. Mr. Osborn took one look at it and let me come work here after school.”
Julia spoke up though her face was pale. “I don’t know who you are but this is stolen property”
He really should have stayed home. The rabbit would have been alive then. None of them would have had to seen that.
“Who says?” Seymour’s smile never faded.
Flash had never seen Peter’s presentation and his face was lined with confusion.
“That’s…. Its mine.” Peter spoke, eyes blazing at the boy in front of him.
Seymour scoffed.
“I don’t think so. It’s here in Oscorp. That makes it their property.”
His nails bit into the skin of his palm while his mind racked itself for an answer to the unasked question. After months of hard work; of guilt fueling sleepless nights and unending days it was somehow in another’s grasp. Someone who hated him. Someone who had mocked him all year. Peter couldn’t even comprehend how it was being tested.
“He created this,” Julia spoke stepping in front of Peter. “That’s what he used get into Stark’s internship.” She paused again before continuing though Peter wished she would stop. “But you know that, don’t you? Because you were rejected for bribery.”
It was the first time in all their interactions Peter could say a genuine emotion showed on Seymour’s face. He took a step toward Julia, mouth squeezed into a tight line. Peter’s hands reached forward to grab onto her and pull her back if necessary.
“Why you little bitch…” he said, stalking closer and then the doors opened tearing down the waterslide tube they were all stuck in and left them exposed to the outer world once again.
They all froze. Peter’s hand gripping Julia’s backpack, Flash stood to the side looking at Seymour with wide eyes, and Julia, proud with her chin up and standing tall. Seymour moved first, stepping back with a lazy smile.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Osborn.” He said gazing at the door.
Peter couldn’t recall much of the newcomer’s appearance besides the eerie similarities he had to the very building they were in. He was tall, all sharp angles, shadowing all the deep contours in his face and neck. And his smile. His smile curled at the edges. The only soft thing on the man’s face.
“Hello, Seymour. Glad you are showing our guests your project.” The man brought his phone up and scrolled through it not taking mentioning the strange circumstances he found them in. “We’ve got Julia Lang, Flash Thompson, your father is an excellent employee, and Peter Parker.”
He glanced up and smiled largely, leaving them with no question of who was in charge. Peter stared at the ground but he could feel eyes lingering on him.
“Welcome to Oscorp.”
Hope you enjoyed!!
Here is the link to the NASA page I used for reference.
