Peter Parker straightened his tie and took a deep breath.
"Let it in..." His chest filled with air, "hold... okay Peter you got this..." He muttered to himself, counting three Mississippi's before letting the air out in a whoosh. "You got this. Yep. Definitely. Got this." His shoulders slumped as his chest deflated. He straightened his tie again.
He looked up at the stately door frame of MJ's upscale flat. He moved one foot slowwwwwly forward.
"Okay. Progress. I got this." Peter praised himself. He slowly moved the other foot to join the first. He had made a step. Definite progress. "I got this. It's a leap of faith. You can do it, Pete. Just... pretend Miles is here cheering you on. Yey~! Go Peter! Go Spiderman! You can do it! It's just a stupid, stupid doorbell!" Peter gritted his teeth as he squeaked out a poor impression of Miles' enthusiastic tone. He gulped for air again, having successfully made another step forward. The doorframe loomed slightly larger in his vision.
The plastic wrapping of the bouquet of flowers he held in clenched fists was practically damp with sweat. He adjusted his tie. Was it really, really hot outside or was it just his imaginaiton? Around him, the street was bustling with well-dressed people going about their Saturday errands. One woman pushing a baby-carriage gave him a wide berth and a sideways look as she went past him on the sidewalk. Peter's attempted apologetic smile only spurred her on faster.
"Go Spider Man~!" Peter cheered himself on, feeling slightly more calm by imagining Miles was there with him. He felt his racing pulse slow a bit as he remembered those big brown eyes looking up at him with wonder, with respect. He took another step forward. He fixed his tie again. "I can do this," he practically snarled, taking in one more deep breath.
'THWIP' Peter decided to bridge the gap of the several insurmountable stairs to the doorway with a quick jab of spider silk to the doorbell. He waited.
The urge to bolt was overpowering.
It would be easy to run. She'd never even know he was here. He'd leave the flowers for her to find and he could watch from afar and come back another day and why was his leg shaking so badly and-
The quaint door swung open soundlessly to reveal Mary-Jane standing primly in the opening.
"Peter?" She asked, a beautiful smile of delight spreading across her movie-star features. Spider Man's heart skipped a beat under his stifling rental suit. Then her grin took on a slightly questioning slant, "I wasn't expecting you." Her eyes were doing that irresistible sparkling thing. Without a thought Peter found himself at the top of the stairs, extending the bouquet of flowers to his ex-wife.
"I-uh. I just. I wanted to. Because you- uhm." Peter stammered terribly, hating himself with the part of his brain that wasn't completely hypnotized by her big, bright green eyes.
"Oh Pete," her giggle was tinkling bells as she accepted the bouquet, "you didn't have to go out of your way like this. Come on in." And then Peter was being lead by the hand through the threshold and into the house.
'What?' was the only word his swimming mind could come up with as he was confronted by a house full of party decorations and wealthy-looking professionals. The door swung closed behind him, its casual finality making him want to smash it off it's stupid hinges. He could do that. It was within the realm of possibility. Probable back-up plan for sure. "What's going on?" Peter finally managed, feeling like he was rooted to the welcome mat.
"The reunion, silly. You... knew about the reunion, right?" MJ's delicate eyebrows creased for a moment before she smoothed them out, her face going still for just a moment too long. For another moment she seemed to really look at him. Really consider what he was doing on her doorstep. Peter felt his plastered-on smile slipping at the edges.
"Oh, yeah of course I did!" Peter blurted out. "Wouldn't miss it. Sure, haha." He bit off his nervous laughter with extreme effort as MJ carefully unwrapped his sweaty flowers and deposited them in their new home alongside another fresh bouquet in the hallway vase. The twist of Mary-Jane's lips suggested that the pink of the roses he'd brought clashed with the red ones already in the vase. "The reunion for the- ah..."
"The Bu-" She started.
"-The Bugle. Wouldn't miss it." Peter was suddenly recognizing faces in the crowd that he hadn't seen in nearly two decades. He'd been in his early twenties when he'd worked for the Daily Bugle. God, everyone looked so old now.
"Peter," she said, turning to face him after a moment, "how are you doing?" Her expression was suddenly earnest, her eyes locking him in place. "I mean..." She made a vague motion with her hand, looking at him expectantly. Peter was suddenly very aware of how close they were standing together in the narrow hallway. The hallway through which he'd once carreid her bridal-style up to their bedroom.
"Me? Oh, y'know. I'm good. Super good. I wanted to check up on you actually. That's why I'm here." Peter internally slapped himself.
"Oh, I'm glad, Pete," she said but then hesitated. Her green eyes searched his brown ones, but didn't appear to find what they were looking for. "I'm doing good too." The corner of her mouth pulled tight for an instant but her face was otherwise unreadable.
Peter had been about to say something when she looked towards the kitchen abruptly. "There's food in the kitchen. Make yourself at-" MJ cut that sentence off hastily, "I mean- there's plenty so have fun, okay?" And with that she had spun away and was forcing her way through the crowded living room. Peter looked after her, his tall frame filling the hallway and making it difficult for people to get past.
"Good to see you too." He said to himself, as she turned a corner and disappeared from his sight.
Before he knew it he was piling bagels and dainties on a flimsy paper plate in the newly remodeled kitchen. Everything was fundamentally the same, it was just the paint and countertops that had changed. As if to prove this to himself, instead of grabbing one of the plastic forks he pulled a metal one from the drawer where he knew MJ kept the silverware.
At least, he thought, it wasn't like she was going to catch him. MJ had made it her mission to keep her orbit as far from his as she could manage while still socializing with her guests. Was she doing it intentionally? He had no idea. He should just leave. This was so embarassing. Why had he ever thought this was a good idea? But each time he turned to go he'd catch another quick sight of her: A flick of a hand, a lock of crimson hair, a flash of her eyes carefully not pointed in his direction. He felt like a fly caught in a web.
"Hey Parker, good to see you again." A masculine voice at his side woke Spider Man from his stupor. He looked down, a mouthful of bagel-and-lox filling his cheeks, to see a blonde man of average height staring up at him with friendly hazel eyes. The man wore a smartly tailored suit that made Peter feel like he was wearing a costume and an easy smile that seemed to imply Peter should definitely know who this man was. He couldn't for the life of him place the face, however.
The blonde man's smile grew, bunching the slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes as Peter roughly swallowed his mouthful and extended a hand to shake. "You too..." Peter said uncertainly, which only made the other man raise his eyebrows in mock-hurt.
"Not suprised you don't remember me. You and I ran in different circles back at the Daily Bugle. I'm Sylvestre."
It took all of Peter's strength not to say: "Like the cat?" Like an absolute moron.
"Yeah, like the cat." Sylvester sighed with a chuckle that proved infectious. Peter actually cracked a genuine smile for the first time that day. "I used to use a lot of your photos back when I did local articles about lost dogs, apartment fires and Spiderman stuff. I was sad to see you go. Though who can blame you, eh? A full-time teaching gig at ESU? You'd have been crazy to turn that down."
The man sure did talk a lot, but Peter was surprised to find he didn't mind. It was comfortable. "Heh, those were good days back at the Bugle." Peter sighed, trying to focus on the positive parts of that job, putting all thoughts of J. Jonah Jameson out of his mind. "You know I think I do remember you. You were practically a kid then, though. What are you, thirty?"
Sylvestre puffed up his chest. "Thirty two!"
"And you remembered me?" Peter was honestly surprised. He put his plate down on a nearby counter so he could cross his arms over his chest, standing easily.
"Of course! I mean you're tall enough I could see you from anywhere in the office. You were a goddamn land-mark!" Sylvester teased him, his full white smile showing that no offense was meant, and Peter took none. He was proud of his height, even if it did make life troublesome sometimes. It made for better leverage in fights.
"So what do you do now?" Peter asked.
"Me? I'm still at the Bugle. I do a lot of political articles these days. Nothing too exciting, but it fills the pages." Sylvestre was clearly downplaying his work, since the Bugle was mainly a political paper where those sorts of articles tended to make the front page if not the headline. However, Peter was also a fan of not glorifying his own work so to him it was a positive.
"How about you? How's physics?" Sylvestre seemed to finally remember the martini he was holding and took a pull from it. Luckily, with his eyes downturned Sylvestre hadn't seen the visible cringe that ran through Peter's frame.
"Oh, I'm uh... It's good. Really rewarding." Peter lied.
Sylvestre didn't seem to notice the fib and carried on merrily, "glad to hear that, man." He had been about to continue when MJ scooted into the kitchen through a knot of guests, immediately snagging Peter's attention.
"Do you work with MJ?" Peter asked, wanting to hear something, anything about her life. With her so close, his insides which had just begun to relax had suddenly and painfully tightened. She wasn't looking his way.
"MJ? Sure! That's how we met." Sylvestre said nonchalantly, with so little emphasis that Peter, who had been distracted, had almost missed it. "Hey MJ! There's someone I want you to meet!"
Mary-Jane's eyes snapped up to see Sylvestre, and then registered Peter standing directly beside him. The thought that flashed across her face clear as a headline was: 'Ohhhhhhh NO'.
She didn't resist as Sylvestre brought her close with a confident hand at her elbow until she was within the circle of his arm. His posture was easy as he announced that he and Mary-Jane had been seeing each other for the past few months. MJ looked stiff as a board as her wide eyes flashed between the two men.
Peter felt like he had turned to stone. He couldn't parse what he was hearing. All he could hear was the clicking of his stalling mind as three thoughts landed solid as granite in his stomach.
One: Mary Jane - his MJ - had moved on. He had miss-timed his leap.
Two: She had moved on months ago.
Three: They had only been divorced for a few months.
The facts felt like gears he was trying to mesh in his mind, but wouldn't quite fit. How long was a 'few months'?
Sylvestre was speaking, and the man had lost none of his earlier joviality, but he did seem to notice something was amiss when neither MJ nor Peter were saying anything.
"I- need to go." Peter stated, his eyes boring into MJ who seemed to be shrinking into Sylvestre's chest.
"What? But I was just saying how nice-" Sylvestre had started, a look of genuine concern growing on his face when Peter took a step back abruptly.
"Pete, please don't be like this." Mary Jane took a step towards him, almost involuntarily. Her small hand reached out slightly, as if to grab him. Her hand that no longer wore the ring he'd given her.
Peter gritted his teeth against the urge to shout at her to stay away from him. To leave him alone. To stop hurting him! He took another step back so from her so quickly he bowled over a woman who had just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Everyone turned to look at the source of the commotion when the woman yelped in surprise as she and her plate of food were knocked to the floor.
Everyone was looking at him.
MJ was looking at him, worry and panic clear in her wide eyes.
Peter ran. He was out the door before anyone knew what was happening. Oddly, it was Sylvestre's voice Peter heard call after him through the blown-open front door into the evening air as Peter swung on spider silk quickly out of sight.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" Spider Man cried from the roof of the Empire-State Building.
He shouted the curse-word until his lungs were empty, and then he tried to scream even more, as if he wouldn't be able to take another breath after this one was spent and he had to make it last. Finally his body forced him to gasp in air, but the desolation he felt made his throat convulse in what was definitely not a sob.
Peter sat down on the wide ledge above one of the building's uppermost observation windows. Cold wind whipped at his face but he pulled off his stupid rental-suit jacket so he wouldn't feel so stifled. For an instant he wound up to chuck the garment into the open air but then paused when he remembered he didn't have the money to replace it. His arm dropped, defeated. He sat on the jacket so it wouldn't blow away.
"I'm so stupid." Peter muttered to himself as he pulled his knees up to his chest and massaged his aching eyes with the palms of his hands. "So fucking stupid." Honestly, what had he been expecting? That he'd show up at her door with flowers and be like ~Hey~, and she'd swoon into his arms? Or realistically, that she'd even take the chance of dating him again after what had happened the first time?
Of course she'd have moved on. He deserved this. Peter groaned into his hands, feeling the unusual smoothness of his face after weeks of going unshaven. He deserved this for being so stupid. God, he really hoped Miles was okay.
Surprisingly, the sudden thought of Miles only made him feel worse. After all, what if all the advice Peter had given that poor kid was just garbage attempts at making himself feel better? 'It's just a leap of faith?' Who was he trying to convince? Just believe hard enough in yourself and everything would work out fine, right? God, he'd left Miles alone with Wilson Fisk armed with nothing but his useless platitudes.
Wilson Fisk had caved in the ribs of the Peter Parker in that universe. An experienced Spider Man in his prime. And he'd told Miles to believe in himself. Fuck.
But Miles was a good kid. A smart and resourceful kid and he had a lot of... pluck? Peter took a shuddering breath at the mental image of the thirteen-year-old Miles Morales facing down the behemoth that was Kingpin with nothing but pluck.
No, no, no no. Miles was fine. He had to be fine. He was fine. Peter pictured Miles going to school, writing papers, going to the movies, surfing the web. Normal kids stuff. That's what Miles was doing right now. Normal kid's stuff.
Spider Man took a deep breath of the cold autumn air and then laid back on the hard concrete. It felt nice against the numb part of his back that had never really regained feeling after being broken. Miles was fine. He was with his parents now, probably giving them a hard time. Peter smiled.
The sound of police sirens and traffic filtered up into the darkening sky as Peter lay there, just trying to exist passively. His mind kept being drawn back toward the disaster that had been his afternoon, but he distracted himself by trying to imagine all the lighthearted mischief Miles was getting up to in his own dimension.
'Get up, Mr. Parker! You gotta go!' Mile's disembodied voice accompanied by a powerful jolt from his Spidey-sense startled Peter to his feet in an instant.
What the?
"Miles?" Peter turned in a circle quickly, trying to figure out where it was coming from, when he heard a sudden scream. Time for action.
With one hand Spider Man pulled his mask out of the front pocket of his trousers and with the other shot a stream of spider silk back toward the Empire-State Building he'd just leapt off of. The sudden, exhilerating rush of air that Peter could never get tired of was calmed slightly by the familiar fabric of his mask as he slipped it over his face, the streets below rushing up to meet him. He took a deep breath and grinned.
The change in momentum when Spider Man snapped out another web at the last moment would have broken a regular man's bones, or at least rendered him unconscious. For Peter it was just a dangerous game of how close he could skim to the pavement, brushing the ashpalt of the busy street with his fingertips. A taxi honked in alarm as he kicked off the hood into a leisurely back flip that put him in perfect position to swing from West 33rd Street onto 6th Avenue.
Moving South, Peter realized he didn't actually know where he was going, he just let let his Spidey-sense guide him toward the source of the trouble. The steady 'THWIP' and pull of his movement was as effective as ever at clearing his mind. To his right, the dying, red rays of the sun broke through the buildings at regular intervals, pinning his shadow to the windows rushing past on his left.
'THWIP' and pull, 'THWIP' and pull, 'THWIP' and pull... Spider Man's head tingled and he knew he was nearing his destination, so with both hands he shot lines backwards to pull himself into a tight upward spiral. He cut them, spinning for an instant before landing on the sidewalk outside an alleyway he'd seen before many times. The sun sat just above the horizon, painting the ugly scene before him in rich crimson...
You had been walking, just minding your own business when it had happened. You hadn't done anything wrong, you thought angrily! You'd stayed on busy streets, you were dressed in an oversized hoodie and jeans for crying out loud! Heck, you'd even seen the asshole coming a quarter mile away and had started walking faster to get out of this bad area.
He knew the area better than you, apparently. The turn you'd made to get out of the man's line of sight had landed you right in a dead-end alley.
"Where you goin', sweetie?" The man asked with the thinnest possible veneer of politeness. His pale eyes were pointed squarely at your breasts. The man was short, which had made you underestimate how fast he'd be able to prowl after you without arousing suspicion from the other people on the street. You'd been wrong.
You took a look around instead of answering, spotting some crumbled bricks by a garbage can, a fire-escape that was probably out of your reach and some rusty chain mixed up in a coil of wire. Nothing immediately useful, and the electric shock of sudden adrenaline was creeping into the back of your head, making things hyper-focused and vague at the same time.
The man took a step forward with a big smile that exposed an area where all the teeth had been punched out. It made his lip curve in an absurd way as he leaned toward you.
"Not talk-a-tive, huh?" He enunciated with a slight lisp from the missing teeth.
"Please leave me alone." You said quietly but firmly, your hands and body pulled tensely inward. This had never happened to you before in all your years living in New York, and a small, furious part of you still insisted that it couldn't be happening.
"Heh?" The man's stupid face actually appeared hurt for an instant. Like you had hurt his delicate feelings.
"Please leave me alone." You said again, louder this time. You took a step to the right, looking ahead where you were walking in the hopes that maybe you could just brush him off. You heard him spit on the ground as you walked past him, not looking to see if he was making any move. You couldn't think straight with suppressed urge to run burning in every vein, but knowing that to run would be the worst possible thing to do.
You screamed when his big hand closed around your arm, louder than you ever thought you could. Suddenly you were being moved back towards him, your feet leaving the ground for an instant as he yanked your shoulder so hard it stung. Then your nails were at his face, leaving short red lines that he didn't even seem to notice.
Your knee shot up into his groin with every ounce of your strength, releasing all the pent-up energy stored in your body. He bellowed at you, saying something your brain couldn't understand. You were close to the rusty chain you'd seen earlier, and you tried to move towards it but then you were suddenly on the ground and he was on you and you were so close do that damn chain and-
You heard a sound like knuckles popping. Then the weight was gone. You heard something crash loudly into the trash cans to your right but none of it made any sense.
"Not you again, didn't you learn your lesson the first time?" A calm voice said over your left shoulder. There was a man's shoe and pant-leg very close in your field of vision, blocking the dying rays of the sun behind him. "You alright?"
You flinched back a bit as he knelt down beside you, and you were shocked to see Spider Man's mask sitting incongruously atop a bare neck and button-up shirt. The white graphic shapes of his eyes were wide and concerned, appraising your face carefully.
Seeing that you needed a minute to gather yourself back together, he gave you a little wink and stood again.
"Honestly what's the point of webbing you guys up..." Spider Man said quietly, and if you hadn't been so wired with adrenaline you probably would have missed it. You watched with big eyes as Spider Man-in-dress-clothes sauntered up to the man you had tried to... to- assault you- where he lay sprawled in the garbage. However, when the man saw Spider Man coming towards him he started scrambling furiously, knocking over the bins in a mad attempt to untangle himself and escape.
"Lissen! I wasn' gonna do anything! I didn' even-" The man's pleas were cut off sharply when Spider Man clocked him across the face.
"The nerve of some people." Spider Man said in forced joviality as he pulled the man out of the garbage. A few more teeth leaked out of the side of the man's mouth as he was pulled effortlessly out of the trash. With a quick toss Spider Man flung the man into the air by the arm and then with a few jets of web suspended him at the height of his arc, coccooning him in the middle of the street outside the alley.
After taking a moment to dust the dirt off his shirt sleeves he reached into his pocket and pulled out a little notebook of all things. "Oh hey," he said, turning to face you again, "you don't happen to have a pen do you?"
you swallowed as you got your knees under your body and rifled around in your purse for a minute. You offered him your pen. He took it, scribbling down: "Put this one away a bit longer this time, please? -Friendly Neighborhood Spider Man". He stuck it to the man's chest with another jet of web. He gave you your pen back.
"Thank you... for. Yeah." You said awkwardly after re-clasping your purse. Spider Man offered you a hand to help you up but you didn't feel like touching anyone right now so you just focused on getting your feet underneath you and then standing awkwardly. It felt as if every ounce of strength had deserted your body and that all your bones had dissolved to liquid. Still, you forced yourself to remain standing. "Seriously though. Thanks."
"Don't mention it, miss." He said, and you thought that his voice sounded tired, too old for the boy scout routine. He looked like he wanted to ask if you needed any more help, but you really just wanted to get back to walking. Of all days, why did this have to happen today? Pretty much par for the course of your life. Then, as if to betray that this was not par by a long shot, your knee buckled a bit when you took a step towards the street.
"I'll be fine." You said, when he stepped forward to prevent a possible fall. You wondered dimly how often Spider Man ended up in this situation, seeing people at their weakest or their worst. Oddly, you felt a pang of compassion for him and gave his partially-outstretched hand a little pat. "but like, what's with the getup?" You said, gesturing at his business-casual attire.
Spider Man looked down at himself at your question, and seemed just as surprised as you were to find he was still wearing his street clothes. He gave a dryly amused chuckle at himself and said, "It's been a crazy day, you know?" He scratched the back of his neck and took a step back. "You'll be alright." He added, holding your gaze for a moment as if to stress his words, and then in a snap he was gone.
It was odd, you thought. You thought you should feel relief or joy or something after being saved by Spider Man, but... You looked up at the man still suspended unconcious like the insignificant fly he was, outlined against the violet sky, and you set off again down the street.
After watching the woman he'd saved for a few minutes to make sure she wasn't accosted again, Spider Man figured a good night's patrol was exactly what he'd needed to clear his head. He'd gone home to change and was now keeping an eye on the city from one of his favourite rooftops, where someone kept out an old lawn-chair and a battered mini-fridge where Peter would keep snacks.
Whoever owned the chair and fridge never touched any of Peter's things and Peter never took any of theirs. The odd, silent arrangement had been going on for years to mutual benefit: Peter did his part to keep the neighborhood safe, and in return he could have chips. Nobody ever said life was fair, he thought as he chomped down on a fistful of the salty snacks.
He'd done a solid hour of web-slinging (which was something!) which was more than he'd done in a week since the initial excitement from the whole dimensions-merging-adventure-thing had worn away.
He'd stopped another two assaults in addition to the first, and a clumsy armed-robbery being pulled by kids so young he almost felt bad for them. Until they'd started shooting, of course. He up-ended the bag of chips into his mouth, not caring about the mess of crumbs he was leaving. The urge to just go home and order pizza before passing out was powerful, but he knew he couldn't continue living as a slob forever. As Miles had said, he wasn't exactly... the right shape anymore.
"Kid sure had a way of putting things delicately." Spider Man sighed as he rose to his feet, unkinking his back and shaking out his limbs. It was going to be a long night.
Much later, Spider Man was swinging leisurely through downtown, feeling the last dregs of his energy waning. He'd stopped ten whole assaults in one night, which had to be some sort of monthly best. On top of that he'd even helped out a police raid on a biker gang by webbing up any of the men (Or women: Re-assessing gender biases!) who'd tried to escape.
Now, one of the perks of being Spider Man was nearly endless stamina, but unfortunately that didn't extend to outright exhaustion. The lights that flashed by from the luxurious highrises seemed to blur and smear together in his vision, and he thought he could almost make out pictures in the bright shapes. MJ's smiling face blurred past him, for example.
Peter didn't shoot out another web to continue his arc, but instead allowed himself to be drawn back like a pendulum past the spot where he'd imagined seeing MJ. To his surprise, his ex-wife was there in the flesh inside a penthouse gala taking place on the terraced roof of the Osbone Appts. The surge of excitement he felt in seeing her lifted some of his weariness, and he allowed himself to simply dangle upside-down in the dark outside the broad window.
It looked so golden and warm inside that Peter would have given just about anything to be in there with MJ right now. She seemed to shine in that velvety black dress, one he'd always loved her in back when they'd been together. She looked around carefully, then when she was sure no one was looking she quickly checked her teeth for food using her reflection in the window. He missed her so, so much.
Then Peter saw Sylvestre glide up to her with two coctails in his hands and a wide, genuine smile on his face. Sylvestre extended one to MJ which she took graciously, her pale fingers brushing his for a long moment before taking the glass. Her other hand pushed a stray lock of hair on Sylvestre's forehead back into place, giggling and saying something that Peter could not hear.
He knew he was torturing himself, watching this, but Peter couldn't bring himself to look away. The idea of fighting more crime made him feel sick to his stomach.
"What am I supposed to do?" Peter said quietly, his words being whipped away by the cool night wind into nothing. He closed his eyes finally when MJ leaned in for a kiss, then Peter let go of the web he was holding and dropped into free-fall. The sudden rush of air rejuvenated him as it always did for the long moment before he shot out a line of web, his fingers brushing the pavement as he swung away.
Peter kept several stashes of clothes hidden around the city in hard-to-reach places. Mostly old coats and pants, whatever he could afford. Tonight was sweatpants, which still felt nostalgic and reminded him of swinging through the trees with Miles. Besides, sweatpants were comfy and were excellent diner attire.
It had been a tough day, so Spider Man decided he'd treat himself and headed to a quiet diner he knew in a bad part of town. A block away he switched from swinging to walking and removed his mask before slouching out of the alleyway he'd landed in. It was nice to have a thick hoodie between the cold night air and his skin-tight uniform, and he stuck his battered hands into the garment's big front pocket to shield them as well. The loose sneakers he wore were also a welcome reprieve from the hypersensitivity of being nearly barefoot.
Walking felt comically slow compared to swinging, but it was soothing putting one foot in front of the other, walking between the pools of light cast by the orange-gold streetlamps. Gold like the room where MJ was probably still enjoying her evening.
No matter what he did, Peter couldn't get the image of her out of his head. Her eyes, dazzling for anyone who suited her. The curve of her thin waist, leaning into another man.
Peter opened the diner's door with a little more force than was necessary, making the bell tied to it's hinge tinkle in alarm and startling the young, sleepy woman who'd been dozing off at the counter.
The diner was large and empty, with fluorescent lights that cast the room in a pale green hue that made the counters look like solid toothpaste. Well-kept stainless steel appliances lined the walls at the back where there was a little window to the kitchen, and a wide, high countertop with circular stools of green apholstery bounded in the staff's area from the restaurant at large. The floors were uncommonly clean compared to what Peter was used to from his favourite diner.
Ignoring the counter stools, Peter hunched off in the direction of his favourite table, always empty at this time of night, and felt around in the pockets of the Spider Man suit he still wore under his baggy street-clothes. He found a few odd coins he'd swiped up from the streets as he'd found them (Manhattan's thank-you box, Aunt May had called it), and then a twenty he'd been lucky to find outside a nightclub.
Sometimes he wished he could just help himself to the wallets of the rapists and robbers and murderers he encountered every night he patrolled. Was it really less moral than scavenging lost dimes out of gutters? Peter honestly didn't know what to think anymore. He tried to imagine what Uncle Ben would have said in guidance but came up blank. He tried to think about Aunt May but his mind recoiled, unable to get any answer.
"Because that's stealing, Mr. Parker." Spider Man heard Mile's voice as clearly as if the boy were sitting accross from him at the booth, and it was accompanied by a throb from his Spidey-Sense. It was different from last time, not urgent at all, but no less real.
"Miles?" Peter muttered, looking around the empty diner. "This is it," he said to himself, "I'm finally going insane." He leaned back in the comfy polyester booth-cushion and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back to look at the ceiling.
"Coffee?" Came a voice to Peter's right, bringing him out of his distraction. He tilted his head at her, raising it as much as his exhaustion would allow so as not to appear completely rude.
"Black, please..." The end of his order trailing off as he recognized her. It was the young woman he'd saved earlier this evening, the one who'd been attacked by a man on parole for good behavior. She was looking at him as if he were a dangerous creature who'd wandered into her diner, but whom she had to deal with. "...and two doubles with fries."
With neat little swipes of the same pen he'd borrowed earlier to write his note, the waitress scribbled down his order and then went to get his coffee. Peter sat up a little straighter, feeling as though he should be using his Spider Man persona but lacking the strength to commit to it without his mask on.
There was a quiet few minutes while the coffee percolated and the waitress bent over some papers on the counter she seemed to be studying intently. When she returned with his coffee, he asked her: "How are you doing?" Peter didn't mean to ask it so directly, but it came out as a continuation of the brief conversation they'd had in the alley earlier that night.
She paused for a moment, the coffee mug hanging above the table for a drawn instant before she set it down carefully and stepped back.
"I'm... fine. You?" She was looking at his face very intently, something alert in her eyes that was different form the apprehension he'd seen there earlier. Peter wondered if she recognized his voice, which could be problematic but he didn't have the energy to care right now.
"I'm fine." He said simply, lying just as she had. "I don't think I've seen you here before. You new?"
"No but, it's my first night working the graveyard shift. Woo~." She said with a little shimmy and a flick of her hands to suggest celebration. The tired hunch of her shoulders suggested anything but. Peter smiled, pressing his fingers around the warm mug on the table.
"I'm right there with you, heh." Peter chuckled, letting the hot ceramic soothe the over-stretched tendons of his hands. "What're you studying?" He asked, a little surprised at how talkative he was being. The waitress seemed grateful for the conversation, giving her a reason to keep her tired eyes from closing.
"Oh that?" She gestured to the notebook on the table, "I'm studying mathmatics at Empire State U. Brutal exam tomorrow so I need all the prep time I can get." She sighed and propped her hands on her hips. "Not sure it's going to go so well, with the wild day I've had," she said in exasperation, looking down at the table.
Peter leaned forward at the table to draw her attention. When she glanced at him, he said firmly: "You're gonna do great." He didn't know why he felt so strongly that he wanted this young woman to succeed, maybe it was out of spite to the injustice that he had fought against all night long with his bare fists.
In response to his sincere look, the waitress' cheeks warmed to a soft pink and she drew back a bit.
"Order up!" A gruff voice called from the kitchen, startling them both. The waitress gave Peter a quick nod to suggest she'd be right back, and then hurried off to collect his order.
She didn't say anything to him when she dropped off his greasy platter of food, comprised of two sloppy double-burgers and a mountain of fries. Then with a smile she returned to her studies over at the counter. Peter found the fierce set of her eyebrows amusing as she glared at the pages with newfound intensity.
With relish Peter finally dug into his meal, devouring the first burger ravenously and then once he felt full settled down to enjoy the rest of the feast. God bless careless people at nightclubs, he thought. It had been a long time since he could afford this much at a restaurant.
As he chewed he thought about Miles and Aunt May and MJ. They all sort of fit into the same category of person: Alive but out of his reach. And he did believe that Miles was alive. He believed that the boy had beaten Kingpin in the end. Had to have beaten him. He had to and that was enough for Peter. If his newfound hallucenations of Miles' voice were anything to go by, then Peter decided that in his heart-of-hearts he believed the kid was alive.
Peter looked up at the waitress as she poured him a fresh cup of coffee. She didn't wear a nametag and although he wanted to ask, Peter didn't think it was appropriate, not after what had happened to her earlier that night. Poor girl didn't need to be bothered by old slobs like him.
By the time Peter had finished the very last speck of food on the table he felt intolerably full, but warm for the first time that evening. He glanced at his reflection in the tinted window and thought of the face of that blonde-haired version of himself from Mile's universe. Young, fit and proud. He hiccuped loudly as his stomach protested all the greasy food he'd given it and he looked away from the window.
Instead, he looked at the young woman scribbling in the margins of her notes, free to continue her life without trauma thanks to him. This was who he did it for, Spider Man thought. Not for himself, not for Uncle Ben, but for people like this, like Miles. People who just want to live productive and happy lives, even though the world was a tough place to get along. If Peter could help them, it was worth it.
He left the twenty and all the coins he had on the table in a neat pile before swaying out of his seat. As he passed the waitress, she looked up at him with an open expression.
"See you around," she said.
Peter smiled at that and gave her a little wave that said yes, he would.