Written with help from AJAngelique.
Disclaimer: I do not own Spiderman or any of the characters from the story.
Warning: This is a slash meaning that it happens to be a story about two men who fall in love with one another. This story (just in case you didn't look) is also rated mature, because there will be some sexual material later on.

"Well, that was brilliant!" Jameson stated sarcastically, leaning forward to tap off the ashes from his cigar, "Don't call us, we'll call you." The last applicant of the day mumbled some disheartened thanks, and stalked out of the room. Jameson ruffled through the papers, muttering with only a quick glance at the clock. A double take proved to him that it was indeed six a clock.

"Shit, I'm late." Jameson growled, dropping the papers onto his desk again. "Maria's going to kill me," He grumbled, as he left all the application papers on the desk, grabbed his suitcase, coat, and keys, and dashed out of the office. The tail end of rush hour traffic didn't help his mood any; especially not since it died down just five minutes from home. Jameson practically broke in the door. With closed eyes to guard his throbbing head, Jameson simultaneously dropped his suitcase and loosened his tie while calling out to his wife.

"Honey, I'm home. What's for dinner?" He yelled. When no response came, Jameson rubbed his aching head wearily, and called out again, "Maria?" Still no response. Only now did Jameson bother to open his eyes, and was surprised to find that all the lights were out. The eerie silence became that much more troubling. Thinking that perhaps his wife had left, Jameson stomped into the kitchen only to find her keys on the counter. His eyebrows raised as a troubling thought crossed his mind.

Jameson crept up the stairs to the second floor. Scanning the hallway carefully, he noticed that his bedroom door, normally kept shut, was slightly ajar. Determined not to panic, Jameson moved silently to the bedroom door, lifted up his left hand and pushed the door the rest of the way open. He had expected an attack. The sight that greeted him was far worse. His wife lay, half off the bed, in a pool of blood. After the initial shock, Jameson found himself drifting towards his wife.

His mind willed him to say her name in an attempt to revive her, but all that came out was a muffled choke. Taking his wife by the shoulder, he shook her ever so slightly as not to cause her any more pain. When she did not seem to wake, Jameson carefully turned his wife over. Her eyes stared blankly upward, and her jaw dropped open.

A few seconds passed before Jameson's mind allowed him to realize what was going on. A horrified look fell across his face, and Jameson let out a terrified howl.

One Month Later

Jameson stalked through the building, barking gruff remarks to anyone brave enough to wish him a good morning. A particularly chipper person made the mistake of stepping into Jameson's path.

"Good morning, sir!" The poor idiot wore a huge white grin that pinged multiple times. Jameson stood very still, sending a death glare to the young intern, biting his tongue before he could wish the man to hell.

"Shut. Up." Jameson commanded in an icy tone of voice, venom dripping profusely from each word.

"Yes sir." The young man murmured meekly, before he hurried back to his cubicle. A collective 'ooooh' filled the room, earning the rest of the Daily Bugle employees a similar glare. Everyone resumed work immediately, taking care not to look Jameson in the eye.

"Why do you have to be like that?" Robbie insisted, following Jameson into his office. Jameson ignored the question, circling his desk and reaching for a cigar. The first thing he noticed as he was stretching was that the resumes he had left were missing.

"Where're the resumes?" Jameson demanded. The young man standing next to Robbie caught finally his attention. "Who the hell are you?"

"Jason Maxwell, sir. I'm the new reporter." The young man extended his hand. He was barely older than Jameson's son. If Jameson had taken the time to notice, Jason had beautiful sky-blue eyes and light blond hair the color of wheat. Jameson noticed none of this.

"I didn't hire you. Get out." Jameson commanded gruffly, pointing briefly to the door. He began opening desk drawers as Robbie caught Jason by the shoulder and gave him a look that meant he should stay.

"Of course you didn't hire him; I did." Robbie stated calmly. Jameson was beginning to get irritated by that calm demeanor, and shot him an accusatory glare. Robbie merely added, "You were out of the office for a month, Jonah. We needed the new reporter ASAP."

"I promise I won't disappoint you, sir." Jason stated confidently, standing almost at attention.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get to work." Jameson growled, finally lighting his cigar and sitting down. Jason faltered for a moment, before heading back to his cubicle. Robbie glanced over his notes wearily.

"Well, now that you're back—" He began, fully intending to give Jameson brought up to speed on all of the things he had missed. A rather obnoxious voice interrupted.

"Hey, bro." Jameson and Robbie both lifted their heads to look at the vaguely Italian looking man in the office doorway.

"David? What're you doing here?" Jameson demanded in the same irritated voice. The day had barely started, and already everyone was getting in his way.

"Take a walk with me." David said simply, striding up to the desk and taking one of Jameson's cigars nonchalantly.

"I'm busy." Jameson insisted, taking the cigar away from David, and placing it back in the box where it came from. "Go away."

"Oh, come now, is that any way to treat family?" David inquired patiently. By now, he was sitting on the edge of Jameson's desk and leaning forward to whisper, "I think I might have something to say that that might just explain this whole…murder business." Jameson's eyes narrowed menacingly. David just gazed back, undaunted.

"Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it." Jameson declared loudly, turning his chair to face away from the man on his desk. David grabbed a corner of the chair and turned Jameson back around.

"I think you'd be glad you did." David persisted, and with this Jameson gave a resigned shrug.

"Fine. Robbie, keep an eye on the office until I get back."

"Three weeks into my new job and I'm still being sent on coffee runs." Jason muttered, drumming his fingers on the Starbucks counter. The ringing of a bell alerted him to the entry of more customers who would probably get their orders first. He hated ordering for fifteen people because it got pushed back so easily for smaller requests. It had already been pushed back three times that very morning.

Jason turned his head slightly, just in time to recognize his boss entering along side a dark-haired man that appeared to be a misplaced rancher. Jason raised an eyebrow, wondering what Jameson could be doing here. He had assumed that if Jameson wanted coffee, that he would have merely sent an order along with the plethora that Jason received every morning. It was not until Jameson sat down while his companion approached the counter to order coffee that Jason noticed the pissed-off look in his boss's eye, the same one that he had encountered earlier that day. Jason was grateful that the glare it was directed towards the fake plants instead of him this time.

As he waited for his rather large order to be filled, Jason heard the conversation between Jameson and the man accompanying him.

"Didn't you ever wonder how Maria got all that money that she invested in the newspaper?" Queried the stranger. Jameson raised his eyebrows, curious as to why his brother-in-law would be asking such a question.

"Sure. Your family is in the oil business." Jameson replied as though it were obvious. David looked amused at this.

"The oil business?" He repeated, stifling a laugh. "Maria always said you were a moral man, Jameson. I suppose that's why she didn't tell you. See, Dad is the head of the Italian Mafia. Maria was murdered by a rival gang."

"What? That's absurd!" Jameson declared loudly, sitting up straighter. David shushed him.

"Would you cool it? Just listen to me for a minute." David murmured, and Jameson settled down again, glaring at the distasteful imitation flora. "Maria never wanted any part of the life of a mobster." Jameson snorted, opening his mouth to interrupt. David continued with the rest of his story, taking no notice of the man across from him

"So one night she took a great deal of money and ran. When we found her, she had already married you and invested most of it in your newspaper. Dad decided that it would be best to just leave her be; the only interference he allowed in your lives was to let a couple of his men to check up on her occasionally. They…weren't there when Maria was killed."

"I don't believe it!" Jameson maintained adamantly, standing again. Just as he said this, the girl at the counter announced that his and David's orders were ready, and Jameson stormed to the counter. Jameson slammed his money on the counter and grabbed his coffee before he noticed Jason.

"What are you doing here? Eavesdropping?" Jameson demanded irritably.

"Uh…n-no sir! I would never- I just-" Jason stammered guiltily, pulling away from his boss.

"Then what the hell are you doing here?" Jameson wanted to know. Jason looked dismayed as the Starbucks employee placed his fifteen coffee orders on the counter.

"Your total comes to fifty-eight dollars and ten cents, sir." The girl stated after she had rung up the order.

"Coffee run." Jason murmured uneasily, giving Jameson a weak smile as he placed the money for the order on the counter.