a/n: Let me live.
(One POV switch for Tony because I couldn't resist.)
It's so cliché. He finds her in a box. When it's raining. He can practically hear the violins swell in crescendo.
She's black and white. Small and skinny - skin and bones, really. There's a splotch of black on her otherwise pink nose. Her whiskers are a bit scraggly. She looks up at him dolefully. Peter falls in love.
The splotch is vaguely star-shaped. He calls her Stella.
Stella's mostly an outdoor cat.
She'll place a paw on the window and give him a little 'mrrp?', and of course, he obliges her, having no heart to deny her of her freedom.
This means, luckily, he doesn't need to invest in a litter pan right away. She has her dignity, it seems.
However, they do compromise when the weather turns for the worst and winter sets in. Peter acutely learns the ins and outs of masking odors and keeping things sanitary.
Stella likes to bring him gifts. Mostly dead ones (more or less by the time he's presented with them).
The day she brings him a spider, he gently sets her outside on the fire escape for a minute to think about her actions. She learns quickly and doesn't bring him any more after that.
She's a quiet little thing. Her vocal range of low, little chirps and purrs makes it even easier to have a secret pet. He's pretty sure May wouldn't mind, but he's not gonna risk it for now.
Peter loosely latches the backpack closed. He can do this.
He's virtually vibrating with nerves by the time he sits down in the back of the car.
"Kid." A warning tone. Uh oh.
"What's up?" Totally nailed it - voice didn't crack one bit.
Happy turns to face him.
"What's in the bag?" Cat's out of the bag, his mind supplies automatically. But she's not. Because Peter is the master of being sneaky. Yes.
He blinks owlishly, by all accounts innocent. Happy only raises his eyebrows and Stella lets out a forlorn chirp. Oh heck.
And there's the Look.
"She'll be lonely! I know she will!" Doe eyes engage in an instant. Do it for her.
"Peter..."
He reluctantly opens his bag and Stella's little face peeks out. Peter melts a little. Happy sighs, reaching over the back of his seat to give her a scritch between the ears. She leans into the contact with a purr.
"Sir's allergic."
Peter wilts.
"Sorry, kid." And he can tell Happy means it, but that doesn't make it any easier to leave her behind.
Stella is batting Legos under absolutely everything, to spite him, he's sure. Ned is delighted with her, so he doesn't care all that much. She's curled up on Ned's lap at the moment, purring like a motorboat.
"Traitors," Peter mutters, shooting them both a betrayed look as he fishes under the dresser for the missing 2x4.
"Cat."
"Whoa there-" Peter takes a few steps back from MJ who'd seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
"You have a cat." She seems absolutely certain in her conviction.
"Um, how-"
"Your hands are covered in scratches." Peter glances down at his hands. "And you smell like one." Peter balks. "And Ned told me." Ned waves meekly from behind her.
"I would like to meet your cat." This would usually be classed as a polite request, but the way she said it left no room for dissent.
MJ and Stella immediately bond. It's like a fated meeting. Of Fate. Peter and Ned watch in fascination.
At the moment, MJ's face is buried in Stella's fur and Stella is nuzzling MJ's face affectionately, eyes squinted contentedly.
"I love you and I'm going to steal you away," is what Peter thinks he hears MJ mutter as Stella makes a happy little noise, but surely that can't be right.
"Come again?"
MJ does not deign to answer.
Peter deftly swipes another cookie from the counter and Tony doesn't even bother to bat his hand away this time. The kid is hanging upside down by a thin thread of web, studying for an upcoming exam. He doesn't really get it, but Peter says it helps his concentration.
Tony sneezes.
Hmm.
"Peter... did you get a cat?"
Peter brightens in an instant.
"I did, Mr. Stark! Do you want to see?" The kid gushes as he immediately rights himself and bounces right into Tony's personal space.
Suddenly he is being barraged by pictures of Peter's new pet - a little black and white cat.
"Her name is Stella," Peter says happily as he shows one of her daintily nibbling on a cheese square. "She likes cheese! And lox! Um, in moderation though. Oh-! And croissants!"
Peter is swiping at high speed through his photos, stopping every now and then to show Tony and coo over them himself.
"Uh..."
"Cute cat, Peter," Pepper is suddenly leaning over his shoulder. He didn't even hear her come in. Her smile is reminiscent of a shark, Tony realizes belatedly.
"She's the cutest! She's got the most perfect bean toes!" And suddenly the bean toes are being brandished in their faces. Pepper's smile sweetens.
"She's lovely. What was her name?"
The force of the sun has finally been directed off of him, so he can breathe for a bit.
"You should bring her around." Pepper is saying cheerfully. "If she's comfortable with that sort of thing?"
"Oh, she loves new people - she's already met Ned and MJ, Happy too! And she's used to being carried around in my bag! Can I really? Even though Mr. Stark's allergic?"
Pepper doesn't hesitate. "Don't worry, Peter, it's only a mild one."
Peter turns back to Tony, a slightly warming show of loyalty but then again—
Doe eyes. At full force. Damn it.
Tony sneezes, resigned.
She's curled up on Peter's bed when he's fumbling at the pane, staining it red. When he finally gets in, she's all over him, letting out chirps of alarm.
He reassures her as best he can, mind foggy from blood loss. It'd been a Rough night, Peter knew that much. He'd navigated home by muscle memory alone. Just an average night for your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, yep yep.
As he collapses on the bed, Peter's remotely thankful for the dark sheets and coverlet.
His eyes are drooping closed when Stella all but launches herself at the door with the loudest yowl he's ever heard. Then she's desperately clawing at the door, screaming all the while.
He barely has seconds to sit up before Aunt May bursts in, taking in the scene of the cat, the bloody handprints on the window, and him.
And then—
"This had better be it, Peter." Aunt May's voice is distinctly watery as she runs her hand through his hair. "This, and the cat."
Stella's rumbling purrs are constant, resonating through his chest, freshly bandaged. As she lightly kneads against his stomach, her little claws prick rhythmically at his suit. Peter closes his eyes.
"Yeah, that's it."