us traitors never win
prologue – some things she did better alone, some things
Summary: Misdirection hadn't been a lie, it was far too close to the truth. She'd nearly slipped last night as well, and she promises that won't be happening again any time soon.
Prompt: I love explosive relationships. I love all that passion and the seduction and flirty knitty gritty stuff. I love relationships that bring out both the worst and best out of each other and rile each other up whether it's sexually or mentally, like kind of like a mini little hurricane that takes you on fast rides and dizzy spells but still makes you feel some kind of romance. And that is exactly what peterfel/spidercat is to me. If Gwen Stacy is the vanilla girl next door and Mary Jane is the wild card one "true love" of Peter Parker, Felicia Hardy is a storm, that whirlwind romance, that steak dinner Peter Parker can't afford, the woman he should be with but ultimately can't take the risk to have. And this is how I'm going to write them.
A/N: I want to preface this by saying first, I have only played The Heist and I've tried my best to avoid all spoilers for the other DLCs of the game (I got the actual game for Christmas y'see) even though I have a good idea on how it plays out based on some accidental tweets and pics that I saw. Also, I won't be able to play the rest of the DLCs until for another long while bc I'm leaving back for university after Christmas break and I'm not taking the console with me. Regardless of all that, this piece is written with only the The Heist in mind so pls when reading this consider Turf Wars and Silver Lining nonexistent. Anyway, this will mostly be PS4 verse with a sprinkle of comic and film verse every now and then but mostly PS4 verse.
Disclaimer: Rights belong to Marvel.
The bomb had to go off—it just had to.
Just one less little line to mark off her checklist—and an important one too. With a stubborn flick of her hair, she grapples her way out of the wreckage, marvelling at the sight of cinders and fire catching air. The smell of burning metal and concrete is satisfying, just like the look on her lover's face – mask or not, she can sniff the devastation a million miles away, especially if it's on him of all people. His call of Felicia sweetly triggers her in ways she'll never forget, and catches her breath—her heart—off guard. With one last glance, she lifts a sharp brow up, and the corners of her lips tug slightly upwards to a sly smirk.
"Well Spider, looks like you do care."
She somersaults off the balcony and flips off into the city lights, the bright red sirens, and into the foggy New York City night, not a single strand of silver hair left undusted. Her past burns along with her chest, tight and red—but she's always done some things better alone, and this is just one of those things. She lets go of her hook, the air cold against her cheeks as she free falls into it with the night her perfect cover, leaving everything behind. Well, not everything, she supposes – some things are much too precious—too attached, too permanent—to let go of.
Speaking of which—
"Hello there, my beautiful babe."
She whispers into the small cradle, much too tiny for a three years old – but he insists on staying, and who is she to deny such a beautiful little creature—her cute little spider—such an innocent and pitiful request. Softly, she kneels down and presses a gentle kiss on her baby's forehead.
That night, she'd arrived home late – home as in, Queens and its quaint little neighborhood, with the tall lamp posts and their orange lights, brown buildings and their cemented alleyways, and her one bedroom apartment. She'd said all she needed to say, heard all she needed to hear, and did all that she needed to do—she ruefully hopes—in the city and now, it was time to move on—back to the one person, one man willing to wait for her without a reckless thought or abandon. He is small—tiny, such a tiny little babe—and so lovely too, the perfect mix of her vixen beauty, and the wide innocence of that too-good-for-this-world sperm donor. This child is mine, thinks to herself, mine and not his.
"Mommy?"
A sleepy whine slips past the boy's plump lips, into the darkness, and she shushes him with a tender finger to his cheeks—just like she once did with his would've been father.
"Silence my sweet, and go back to sleep. It's a long journey away from home, tomorrow morning."
His big brown eyes blink owlishly at her, curious and wondering, and she sees that same spark—an undeniable fire that only another certain pair of warm browns can light up inside of her. She releases a soft breath and pulls away, her silver hair falling as she unclasps the tight tie atop her head. She leans back and falls with a soft thud onto the chair just beside her babe's little cradle and his make-shift comforter. Brown eyes continue to watch her, with dark and soft curls falling haplessly over them. Tiny hands hold tight a small and familiar stuffed toy with white eyes and black webbing.
"How's daddy?"
He asks, and Felicia rolls her head back, unable to stare into those intimidating pair of brown innocence any longer.
"He's doing well, I suppose."
"Is he ready to meet me?"
"Not yet, darling—not just yet."
"Will he ever be ready?"
She pauses, and lets out a deep and heavy sigh. Her eyes are closed, her heart beats a little too fast, and everything is loud—her baby's breathing, the neighbors snoring, the call of the city and it's never ending traffic—it's all so goddamn loud. She breaks the noisy silence, shifting in her seat as she leans forward and stares back again into those same eyes. Her smile is sad as she pushes her baby's soft curls back.
"I don't know."
His lips quiver, and she thinks a little ways back—just a few hours ago. Perchance she came across a conversation she didn't mean to hear—needed to hear. Words spoken by her Spider that cuts a little part of her.
Honestly? I uh, I'm kind of relieved.
"Figures you would say that lover, you were always one to wish he could take the easy way out."
She'd said to herself at the time, somewhat unsure, somewhat convincing. She spied them across the street, chatting like playful little lovebirds, seeking comfort and answers – the kind she never gave out. Her feet dangled over the edge of the fire escape, and she licked the vanilla off her lips.
"Always one for the sacrifice but if you were given the choice—well, let's not think about it."
With the right person.
"Tsk." Felicia huffed and kicked the bricked wall beside her, before she tumbled up to a stand, using the metal bars as support. "You've always been a bad liar Spider, I just didn't think you'd be so desperate to impress someone so—unmistakably beneath you."
With a flick of her wrist, she'd shot the hook across the other side of the street, behind the wall of the building just beside that familiar café. His old habits never died, she digressed and let her eyes trail after the couple, their sweet kiss and chaste handholding. The vile image made her stomach curl – not of jealousy, but of disgust. She gripped onto her grapple just a little bit tighter, and hissed at the snobbish smile of that red head reporter. Damsel journalists had always been catnips for pure hearts like her Spider.
"But then again, I suppose you do deserve each other, so safe and cozy in each other's arms, you'd never be able to offer me or my boy the adventure and thrill we crave in our lives." She muttered and flipped against one of the railings as she made to take her leave. "That's why I made the choice for you."
She saw the couple get up from their seats, fingers interlocked and lips curled into daunting careless smiles. She hated the scene—he was so unreachable, and it turned her on.
"I guess this is it, Peter Parker—until we meet again, never."
It felt nostalgic—her leaving without a trace, and him moving on. She'd come full circle, she supposed, since that last time around.
Sunny, she remembered it being.
The small rays flitted in through the small peeks of her blinds. They'd just fuck about the night before, hands and legs tangled all over each other and curly hair tickling soft and bare skin. When people asked her how she and her boyfriend broke up, and how'd she ended up single with a child, she'd simply shrug and say—that's between me and the spider. They never got it, always thought she'd just been playing. People thought it started with a big unfixable fight—heck, they still do, sometimes—about identities and masks, and moralities and crippled loneliness. But it was just a bottle of wine spilled and shared between their toxic breaths, and disgruntled groans from his and her lips as she'd put on her thong and fixed up her hair.
"Well Spider, I guess this is it."
She gestured to his phone that rang obnoxiously throughout the room for such an ungodly early time of the day. And she'd just finished sucking him off, too—what a shame.
"Felicia, I'm so sorry but MJ—"
"Hush now." She hissed with a well placed finger on his lips, her claws sharp and delicate. "No more of that, no need to explain."
She pulled him closer with her legs, and locked him into a quick and chaste kiss.
"I just, I can hang up if you want, but what if it's—"
"It's okay."
She pulled away from his hold, her expression sly and thinking silly little spider. She patted the string of her thong to be sure that it fits and pulled on her bra, clasping it at the back as she danced gracefully on her toes, around the rest of their fallen clothes on the floor. She then picked up her shirt by nudging the collar gently between her toes, and with her long elastic legs, lifted it up to her hands. Bending her back was much too tiresome.
"Our small arrangement was simple from the start, Spider—you needed comfort and I wanted to pass the time."
Her hair was long—way too long, so she pulled it back with a tie, and set it firmly into a ponytail. Silver flashes flung behind her as she made to put on the rest of her clothes. The sunlight was still there, bright and guiding them, and the phone never stopped ringing. She wondered what he'd been thinking—if he was ever going to pick it up, or if he'd lift her up instead, and push her up against the windows, fucking her senselessly with no care in the world for that irritating call from some irritating red head. She guessed he'd only choose her once, and that had been then—her luck had run out. So she comforted him in a way, to comfort herself. With her slim index finger, she trailed it along his arm – her favorite thing to do – their eyes fixed on her sharp and painted nails as it glided across the dotted freckles of his skin.
"It's not that there's no strings attached, because, can't you feel this?" She breathed heavily as she lifted the rest of her hand up, and interlocked it with his, placing both firmly on top of her chest, just above her rapidly beating heart. "That's the vibration, the passion, that's what the something that we feel within and for each other.
She let both their hands drop and he stepped in closer, breath fanned over her nose as the corner of her lips lifted up, the way they would when she knew he was going to do something so Peter. She continued to trail with her finger every inch and crevice of his body, loved the feeling of him as he tensed up and stiffened with the ghost of her touch.
"We're connected by these lips," a finger to his lips, "these hips," and another to his hips, "and well—your tip."
She giggled as she teased him with a soft poke to his tip, which earned her a heavy groan from him. He began to complain, and he said her name just like the way she liked it—ah, Felicia—so whiney and desperate, just like he was in bed.
"But the strings are loose, and it is what it is."
He sighed, knowing he wasn't getting anymore anytime soon, and sat down her bed as she continued to dress herself, this time pulling on her tight jeans.
"Just promise me you'll change Felicia, no more of—no more of the thievery and the old tricks."
"Aw, but life gets too boring if I don't have something to do."
She started packing up her bag now, emptying her closet and raiding her drawers for important things—little valuables that she owned. Such as pictures of her dad, her mother's jewelry, and friendly little notes he used to leave her behind after a good night of bed and backbreaking plays.
"Then use what you can do, all your gifts and talents, for good things."
She paused for a minute in her struggle to find her keys, and tilted her head seriously at him, eyes accusing.
"And what, do what you do?"
"That's not what I said."
"Save the world, save a city with one half of its residents hating the living sight out of you?"
"No, for other things."
"I'm sure the straight and narrow road works and does wonders for you and your too good eyes and heart, but it won't for me." She rolled her eyes at that before she continued searching, stripping the bed of its sheets before she heard the soft cling and thud of the keys falling to the carpeted floor. "We're different, you and I, and the life that you're suggesting, it's too bland."
"But you were with me, Felicia."
"Oh Spider—what of the things did we do was bland?"
"That's not what I meant."
"Was it the upside down sex? The skylight 69 on your webs, or was it the long talks about your uncle and my mother?" She picked the keys up and pulled on a black leather jacket as she made sure to double check that her phone was with her, and that her bag is full of all she that she needed. "I didn't mind those talks you know, I quite loved them."
"I loved them too, but that's not what I mean."
"You know I'd open anything for you Spider, both my heart, and my legs, but I can't do the things that you want me to do because it's not me and being good is not made for me."
"Felicia—"
She threw her hair back as she picked up her bag and slung it behind her, kicking her helmet off the ground and catching in safely within her arms. This time, she was ready to leave, so she took a minute to stop, and stay—just for a minute.
Silence took over that minute.
"I won't make any promises Spider, but if I do go straight and narrow, you'll be the first to know." She said after the seemingly long silence, with that tone of finality. "But right now I have to go, there's some things I need to take care of, and you know what you have to do."
She pulled open the door and he was quick to web for a pair of boxer shorts left lying on the ground, before she could fully expose his bare and naked self to her neighbors. He knew she'd done that on purpose. Giggling, she glanced at him one last time.
"See you around Spider, until never."
"Bye, Felicia."
He whispered to her retreating back—except, she turned just slightly – enough to aim at him, but not enough that he can see her face – and threw something right at his face. He caught it—spider reflex and all—but he was still surprised as it landed on his palm. She'd always seem to do those kinds of things to him, powers or not.
"Oh and by they way, lock up will you Spider, and return my keys to nice old lady downstairs, she must be missing her apartment by now."
Realizing what she'd done, he did the only thing he knew to do when it came to her—
"Felicia!"
She'd never called, and neither did he. Too busy enjoying life with his rekindled relationship with that obnoxious red head. She'd spent a couple of days thinking about her next move, before she realized that some things have been left overdue.
"Oh dear."
She'd said to herself, staring at the under packet of tampons in the corner of her new makeshift home. She left for the store and took the test that very night, unsurprised at the two red lines staring angry at her.
"There's two."
She whispered as she slid down the cold bathroom wall. She wouldn't cry—not her of all people, but she wished she could sometimes. One hand on top of the dirty pregnancy test, clawing the tiled floor, the other on top of her stomach. She looked down, at where her hand lay, feeling for something—anything.
"Oh little man, I guess it'll be just the two of us."
Telling Spider had never been an option. Some things she did better alone, and that was just one of those things. That had become something of a mantra to her. She'd have loved to have him around, to hold onto when that painful birthing process came, to dote on her with that slippery dork of a smile, the one that made her feel so soft, and melted parts of the wall she's built around herself. But telling Spider also meant giving him no choice, and as much as she'd love that satisfaction of one-upping the love of his life as he claimed that woman to be, she'd rather he stay for her and not for their—her—baby. So she left it at that—as just the two of them. Just the two of them.
"You can't do this alone!"
"Why not? I've done everything else alone!"
"I'm saying you don't have to!"
"Hey." She calls her boss the morning after the heist and her supposed death, her little boy still snoring softly in his cradle, hands gripping tightly that stupid five-dollar stuffed toy. "I got you the drives, now give me back my son."
She whispers harshly against the speaker. Misdirection hadn't been a lie, it was far too close to the truth. She'd nearly slipped last night as well, and she promises that won't be happening again any time soon.
"Patience, kitten." The man on the other line purrs and Felicia is physically sickened by his tone, literal shivers going up and down the back of her neck, but she stays put right where she is. "After all, it only takes one button to neutralize the bomb, and the same to activate it."
She hisses in response and he laughs. The sound is so loud and vile it shakes her babe almost to consciousness—but he remains asleep with a soft hush of her breath, nose crinkling at the man's ugly noises.
"You'll get your reward, and your son will be safe, he's with you isn't he?" She glances once more at her babe, tongue curling into a hateful yes. "As you can see, we're not doing anything to him right now, and rest assured that will always be the case, so long as you do as you're told."
"I'm tired of these games."
She snaps, her other phone vibrating. She takes a chanced glance at the caller ID and the name Peter flashes much too quickly for her liking before the call is abruptly cancelled. She frowns.
"Ah, ah, ah, I thought you liked to play?"
"Not with my son's life."
"One last job and that'll be it." The man on the other side hums, knowing full and well she has no other choice. "I promise you, when it's done, we'll leave you to it."
She clutches her phone, and grits out her response.
"One last job."
"Of course."
With a deep breath, she takes it.
"Okay."
Staring longingly at her babe, she ends the call.
"Don't worry my little spider, mommy's going to fix this—we don't need daddy, we can do this all on our own." Dipping down to kiss forehead, her hands shake in away she's never known them to. "Just the two of us."
"Felicia, why didn't you come to me with this."
"'Cause it's not your problem, it's mine. And I'll handle it."
Some things she did better alone, but now—she's not so sure if this is one of those things.