I haven't said this here, but I am a very big fan of unreliable narration. Despite this being written in the third person, the focus is on Peter or whoever is the main character in a scene so I write things in ways that they see them and how they interpret them.
This means that sometimes the information you have will be wrong. Peter won't know the motivations of other characters nor will he have information on some things, like the inner workings of the Justice League. So, he's going to make educated guesses with the information he has but, sometimes, that conclusion will be wrong. There's a scene coming up that's a good example of this and I figured I'd give you a head up.
Another thing, I don't know how but a scene that I intended to be around a thousand words or so took up most of the chapter.
Support the whiskey and chocolate fund, also known as my Pa tre on at: www . pa tre on /TheMountainJew. com
"Shit, bro, what happened to you?" The little leader from earlier exclaimed, making the other two look up from playing with sticks glued together in the rough shape of a person.
"Language," Leslie snapped as she all but shoved Peter into the room. He followed obediently, knowing better than to piss off his landlord but he gave a small wave before he was put on the medical bed. Peter sat down and the little girl abandoned her doll to walk up to him. Her eyes were bleary and red-rimmed, telling Peter that she hadn't gotten any sleep. A glance told him that none of the kids did, not that he could blame them. They had a brush with death mere hours ago; odds were they wouldn't be sleeping easy for a long time.
"You're hurt," she observed as she took a seat next to him. She looked up at his reflective eyes and cocked her head to the side. Utterly adorable. He found his secret weakness; anything that could make him go 'd'awwwww.'
She was completely right. His hand itched, his burns were driving him up the wall, and his bullet wound ached. That wasn't even counting all the sore muscles and other bumps and bruises he's picked up over the past few days. However, Peter was a hero and he had an image to maintain.
"Me? Hurt? Pa-lease! I'm a superhero," he said, jabbing a thumb at himself and puffing out his chest. He saw Captain America do the pose once and he thought it looked cool when he did it. He practiced in the mirror, so he was sure he pulled it off.
Though, that confidence was undermined when she gave a small giggle and a look that could only be described as patronizing. Really, what was it with him and women giving him that look? She was five. Five!
"No, you're an idiot," Leslie snapped as she gathered her instruments. She shot him a glare but Peter noticed that it didn't have any real heat to it. Like the little girls, her eyes were bloodshot as well and if the groaning he could hear in the other room, he was willing to bet that he wasn't the only one that had a busy night.
"Were you set on fire," the potty mouth of the trio asked, sounding more fascinated than concerned as he poked at his tattered suit. Which was just another problem in a long list of them. His suit was a glorified rag now. A bloody, burnt rag that hadn't been properly washed in a few days.
What he was going to do about that, he didn't have the faintest. He could always just go out in it but that had it's own problems. The leg part was missing entirely and there were plenty of burn holes throughout or where Firefly nicked him. His suit already didn't do much to keep the cold out but in the state, it was in, he might as well not wear anything at all. Which wasn't really an option.
'I guess I know where my spending money is going,' Peter thought with a mental sigh, fingering at one of the burnt edges along with the little leader. This suit reached the end of its life, it seemed. If spandex prices were anything like they were on his...hmmm...ah, the last time he checked then they were out of price range.
He would need to buy two things, red and blue, and he wasn't even sure if he could afford one.
Peter realized that the kid was waiting for an answer, so he gave a shrug, "yeah, just a little." Leslie took a calming breath before she let it out in the form of a long sigh. Peter gave her a wary look, knowing through experience that he was about to get yelled at.
"You were set on fire," she stated and Peter saw the three kids share a look and shrink into themselves. Not because they were scared, but to make themselves smaller targets so Leslie's anger would pass over them.
"For like two seconds! Five tops," Peter defended himself, though it sounded weak to his own ears. Leslie's gaze turned flat and Peter's face flushed with embarrassment.
"The five-second rule doesn't apply to getting set on fire," she said so dryly that the only thing Peter could do was wince. As much as he didn't want to admit it, that was a fair point. It was something that would only take a day or so to heal, but saying it out loud made it seem worse than it really is. However, Leslie didn't continue in favor of grabbing a curved needle and...oh no...
"I don't need stitches," he said the instant he saw her thread the needle with practiced ease. His eyes were focused and he most certainly didn't sound nervous. He might be super human but Peter never got over his childhood fear of needles. It was for that reason he valued his enhanced durability and healing as much as he valued his spidey-sense. Not only would he have more scar tissue than skin at this point, but it made things like needles pointless. Especially when he slapped some of his home brew healing ointment on the bigger wounds.
"Your hand looks like it was nearly cut in half," Leslie said as she sterilized the needle. Peter grimaced when he looked down at his palm. The cut had stopped bleeding, but he knew he reopened it a few times throughout the night so his glove was soaked with blood.
"It'll heal on its-" Peter began to argue but the words dried up when he saw Leslie raise an eyebrow. It was then that he got the impression that this wasn't so much as patching him up but punishing him for getting hurt. She knew she could get away with it too because she knew about his accelerated healing.
"Er, right," Peter said, taking a deep breath as she took his hand and peeled away the glove. Peter removed his web shooter and the little girl shifted so she could get a better look at them. After a moment of consideration, he locked the web shooting mechanized and passed it to her. She looked surprised but she shot him a tired smile and started to play with it.
"So, what are you three still doing up," he asked to distract himself from the pain as Leslie began stitching him up. One downside of never needing stitches was that he had no tolerance for them. His pain threshold had gotten fairly large over the past two years but each time she pushed the needle through his skin made him want to curl up into a ball and die.
"May didn't want to go to bed until you got back," Johnny offered with a small shrug as he peered at the web shooter in May's hands. Peter's heart clenched painfully when he heard the name of the woman that was his mother in all but name but he quickly put that to the side. This wasn't the time or the place to worry if he'd ever get to see her again.
Instead, he looked at May, who yawned before trying to put the web shooter on her wrist, even though it was twice as big.
"Tired?" He ventured but she shook her head without looking up. He smiled when she tried to shoot a web at the potty mouths face, only for the web shooter to almost fall off.
"So, where do you guys and girls usually stay at when you're not in danger? Does...anyone look after you?" He asked, his voice most certainly not changing octaves when the needle sunk in a little too deep. He directed the question at all three of them, but like before, it was the little leader who answered.
"Whats it to you?" He demanded before he caught an elbow to the ribs by Johnny. As he shot his friend a glare, Johnny responded with an actual answer.
"In the abandoned building on the edge of Crime Alley. Batman killed, like, a hundred guys there once so nobody goes there," Johnny explained and Peter felt his eyebrows slowly creep up.
"A hundred guys?" He echoed and he heard a snort from Leslie. Peter knew that was a lie or a story cooked up by criminals to make Batman even scarier. It happened to him too when he became more than an urban myth. Johnny was cut off from answering when the little leader gave him a look that could only be described as 'what the fuck are you doing?!'
"Dude, he's Spider-man," Johnny said in a hiss, gesturing wildly to Peter. His smile grew a fraction as pride surged in him. It seemed he was already gaining a reputation and it seemed to be a good one. It was almost confusing.
"Tsk, fine. We live there and the Vice Kings use to look after us. I think most of them are dead no, so I dunno now," the little leader gave a careless shrug as he crossed his arms. Peter's smile fell a fraction when he heard that. He knew that they were orphans but he didn't know they had also lost the only ones taking care of them.
Sure, with a name like the Vice Kings, Peter was willing to bet that they weren't exactly stellar people but he saw what the alternative was. These three getting gang pressed and almost murdered when they refused.
"Is there no one else?" Peter questioned softly and the little leader shrugged again.
"No, but that's fine. We can take care of ourselves," he boasted and Leslie let out a scoff for him.
"This idiot saved you from becoming another chalk outline," she said bluntly and her harsh look didn't let up when the two boys drew into themselves. Johnny looked upset, but the leader suddenly stuck his chin out defiantly and glared right back at Leslie.
Peter expected and argument, or rather for Leslie to shut the kid down, but instead she let out a soft sigh and cut the thread of his stitches. It was like the fight just left her as she pulled out an ointment that made Peter want to howl in pain when she put it on his burns. It hurt worse than the actual fire!
The kid just looked puzzled, clearly also expecting a fight, and Peter seized the opportunity to continue.
"I don't think going out or staying there is a very good idea," he observed and the little leader turned his glare at him in response.
"What else can we do? You say something stupid like go back to the orphanage, and I will shove my foot so far up your a-" he began to swear but Peter cut him off with a hand.
"No, nothing like that," he said, making a mental note to visit this orphanage. These three...they were barely surviving on the streets. All three of them were dirty, exhausted, hungry and it was only going to get worse as more time went by. They knew it. There was no way that they didn't know it.
Yet, they were choosing to stay on the streets rather than go back to that orphanage. They were choosing to risk death over going back.
There was something deeply disturbing about that.
"I have a friend that stays in the building. He's out right now, but he wouldn't mind if you guys stayed in his room. At least until I can help you find something better," Peter said, thinking that this was the best way to deal with this. He could keep an eye on them and gain a little more information about the orphanage.
"He's not a pedo or anything?" The little leader asked, eying Peter warily and making him sputter. If was for that reason he didn't notice Leslie's sharp look.
"No! No, he's not, god, he's not a pedophile!" Peter exclaimed, taken back by the accusation. That was near the top of the list of things he never expected to be accused of. The little leader eyed him with suspicion, as if he glared hard enough he would learn the truth. However, before Peter could continue, possibly making the situation worse, Johnny elbowed him in the ribs again.
"Dude, he's Spider-man's friend," he stressed. "There's no way a superhero would be friends with a pedo."
"Yes," Peter agreed whole heartily, wanting this conversation to end now. "He's not a creep or a crazy or anything like that. He's just a guy. His name is Peter Parker," Peter offered up his name with a calming gesture. He heard Leslie let out a dismissive huff, clearly disagreeing with one of those things. Given that she's made no secret of her thoughts on his sanity, he had a good idea which one.
"Alright. Fine. We'll stay with your friend but if he does anything weird...," the little leader trailed off, a warning in his tone.
"Yeah, I hear you. Nothing will happen, cross my heart," Peter reassured, making an X over his heart for emphasis. It seemed to have done the trick for Johnny but the little leader still didn't look reassured. However, when May let out another loud yawn, that seemed to seal the deal.
"Come on, I'll escort you up," Peter said, offering out a hand for May to hold. She didn't look up as she took it in favor of acting like she was webbing everything in sight. He sent a look at the other two and saw that they were following him obediently. He looked at Leslie, who just opened the door for them and mouthed the words 'come back' when the kids couldn't see.
Yeah, he was going to get yelled at.
It was a short walk to his rundown apartment and the rest of the building was just as run down. The paint was peeling on the walls, the floors were clean but there were countless of old stains on the carpet, and the light bulbs flickered randomly and it was if he was being honest, spooky.
He spotted his door and opened it with the key he had hidden on his neighbor's door frame. He pushed it open and the first thing he saw was Mr. Mittens sleeping on his bed. Apparently, it was the first thing May saw as well because she carelessly dropped his web shooter, which he caught before it hit the ground before she walked into the room and climbed onto the bed and started cuddling with the kitten.
Mr. Mittens woke up to meow when he felt the bed shift but he was unconcerned if the fact he went right back to sleep was any indication.
Peter looked down at the little leader, "get some sleep. I'll check in to make sure you guys are settling in but Peter will be back in a little while." he said, earning a nod from the little leader. When Peter was starting to close the door, he noticed the look of panic on the kid's face. Right when he was about to ask what was wrong, the kid cut him off.
"Thank you," he said, forcing the words out as he shifted from foot to foot. A comment about how he did have manners deep down was on the tip of his tongue but he beat it back. Instead, he gave a two finger salute and a smile underneath his mask.
"Just doin' my job," with that, he closed the door with a click.
'You need to get some sleep," Leslie noted as he entered the medical office again. Peter knew it was true but he shook his head.
"Can't. I need to go to the Daily Planet before they start circulating the morning paper," he said as he doubled checked that his neon orange Hawaiian shirt wasn't visible. Thankfully, he had sleeves now so neither it nor the burns on his arms could be seen. His hand was going to be a problem for a day or two but that could be solved if he found a pair of gloves or kept his hands in his pockets.
Leslie made a noise of acknowledgment, "then what?" She asked, her voice carefully kept neutral. Peter gave her a puzzled look, wondering exactly she was asking before he shrugged a shoulder.
"Then I look into a replacement suit, check out the building the kids are staying in, look into the orphanage, maybe do some scavenging, buy some food and maybe some clothes...why?" Peter asked, glancing at his reflection in a metal bin. It was only a brief look but Peter thought he looked as exhausted as he felt.
The dark bags underneath his eyes were almost black now and his eyes were completely bloodshot. His skin was pale and add that to the fact his hair was a mess, he looked like he was in a desperate need of a shower and a nap.
Peter quickly looked away and blinked away the haze from his vision. Leslie was looking at him with a frown before she shook her head.
"And you're going out tonight as well?" She ventured and Peter nodded, thinking that should be obvious.
"And how do you plan to stay up all night when you look like you're about to drop any second now?" She demanded, crossing her arms and now Peter wished he had his mask to hide his frown.
"Coffee and adrenaline?" the glare he got in response gave him the distance impression that she didn't find that funny.
"Fine. How are you going to take care of those kids and that cat when you're barely able to scrape by and spend your nights fighting criminals? What if one of them finds out who you are and-"
"Attacks them to get to me?" Peter bit out with anger that surprised even him. Leslie blinked but that was the only sigh that she was taken back by the sudden shift in tone. Peter opened his mouth to say something but he clamped it shut because he knew whatever it was, he'd regret saying it right after. Instead, he let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped.
"I can't leave them. They need help," he said softly. With great power comes great responsibility. The phrase echoed in his mind, making him square his shoulders and met her gaze. Those kids, that kitten and all the others he had saved and will save, they all needed his help. He wasn't going to look away just because it was inconvenient for him.
There was a tense silence between them and Peter decided that the conversation was done. He waited one more moment for her to respond, but he didn't hear her until the door had already clicked shut.
"You're the one that needs help."
"Nothing? Nothing? Half a fucking block burnt to the ground and there's not a single photo?! Everyone has a fucking camera on their phones nowadays, are you telling me not a single one had the brilliant fucking idea of taking a god damn picture?!" Peter heard someone scream long before he entered an office in the Daily Planet. Silently, he opened the window and closed it behind him before he eyed a particularly comfy chair.
"It can't be...," Peter muttered as he neared the chair before throwing himself in it. His body relaxed and Peter had to fight against the wave of sleep that tried to claim him. He searched for J.J Jamerson when he was searching for the doppelgangers of people he knew and the search came up empty! There was no way...it was impossible.
It wasn't J.J. Jamerson, thank whatever god was in that blue sky for that. It was a short man, around five foot something, slightly overweight with thinning hair up top. Most notably, his skin was an angry red and spit was flying everywhere as he screamed at...everyone.
It might not be J.J Jamerson but it was a little close for comfort.
Peter shifted in his chair as he heard someone stomping into the office he was in. It had been almost too easy to sneak in; the window was unlocked and everyone else was too busy getting screamed at to notice him slip in. With reckless anger, the head of this branch of the Daily Planet swung the door open and spotted Peter immediately.
"W-" he started but Peter was quick to cut him off. There was very little point in sneaking into his office if the guy announced that he was in his office.
"I have pictures of the fights of Spider-man was in last night," he said quickly and the man proved that he was experienced in matters like this because he closed his mouth with a click and the door followed shortly after.
"Let me see them," he demanded as he took a seat at his desk. Peter glanced down at the nameplate that in front of him, Lonnie L. Luster. That was...no.
'If he starts firing me and counting his words, then I'll walk out,' he swore to himself as he took out his camera. Lonnie scowled when he all but snatched it out of his hands but Peter noticed that the older man made sure not to touch the exposed wires.
With practiced ease, he opened up the latest pictures and he let out a grunt as he flicked through them. However, Peter saw that glint of greed in his eyes that he saw all too often in those that were about to screw him over.
True to form, Lonnie set the camera down and gave a shrug, "they're alright. The angles could use some work and the camera quality isn't all that great, but I can use these. A hundred bucks," he offered and, once upon time Peter might have taken that deal.
However, he's been ripped off countless times before and only once had he been this desperate for money. He couldn't afford to get ripped off right now, so he frowned at the man and shook his head.
"I think you mean they're great and you'll pay me five hundred," Peter shot back, crossing his arms. A look passed over Lonnie's face but Peter wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been looking for it. He hadn't been surprised that Peter was arguing for more money, it was only to be expected. However, Peter got the impression that he was still annoyed that he hadn't accepted the offer.
"Punk, that's a lot of money for pictures I can barely use. The ones with Ravager are fucking useless because some bitch uploaded the fight to that shitty website," he cursed, shaking his head. "The internet is the worst fucking thing that has happened to America," he muttered before he turned his attention back to Peter.
"I'll go up to two hundred, but not a penny more. That's out of pity kid, you look like shit," he added and Peter let the insult roll over him like water. He knew it was true. His clothes were ragged and stained, he looked dirty and exhausted, and everything about him just screamed desperate for money. Lonnie was going to low ball him no matter what he looked like, but he was going for broke because he expected him to have a backbone.
"No deal," Peter said, standing up and grabbing his camera before Lonnie could react. "Guess I should have gone to the Gotham Times," he mused aloud as he tucked his camera back in his pocket. Lonnie sputtered, clearly expecting him to cave in the sight of a mere two hundred dollars, and Peter made it all the way to the door when Lonnie found his words again.
"You fuckin brat," he spat but he took a breath to calm himself when Peter turned around. He glared at Peter as if he would change his mind and price tag if he did. "Fine. Five hundred," he hissed as he opened his drawer with a little more force than necessary.
"Cash," Peter corrected, not seeing the need to point out that he didn't have a bank account. Lonnie muttered something underneath his breath but Peter didn't care to figure out what it was. J.J. Jamerson was a dick, but there had been something respectable about him. Sure, he screwed Peter over more often than not but he paid his dues and admitted when he was wrong.
This guy was just a dick.
"And leave my name out of the paper to," Peter added after a moment of thought. Getting credit for taking pictures of Spider-man was was a mistake that he wasn't going to repeat. When it became clear that Peter was the only one able to get a half decent photo of Spider-man, he naturally earned the attention of Spider-man's enemies.
That made for some very awkward situations when he had been kidnapped to draw out the spider-themed hero.
Keeping his name out of the paper would also stop anyone from giving his background a look through. His greatest ally right now was making sure Peter Parker stayed under the radar so people wouldn't connect his miraculous resurrection with Spider-man's appearance.
"You on the run or something, kid?" Lonnie asked as he peeled off a few hundred dollar bills. Peter wasn't a greedy man but his eyes were stuck on the money. As far as he was concerned, five hundred dollars was the most beautiful string of words in the English language.
He was proven wrong a mere moment later Lonnie slid six hundred dollar bills over to his side of the desk. A look of pure disbelief must have been showing on his face because he heard the man let out a chuckle.
"That right there is a bribe," he said in a tone that Peter could only describe as proud. "The next time you get pictures of these loonies, remember me as the one who let you get a decent meal and clothes that aren't fucking disgusting." He added and Peter immediate shifted from foot to foot.
Bribe.
He hated that word. None too fond memories of nearly taking a bribe from Tombstone for looking the other way whenever he was doing something villainous and evil surfaced.
'This is different,' Peter said as he took the money and swallowed his squeamishness. This was more of a forward advance than anything but the implication of dirty money just made his skin crawl. He tucked the money into his pants and shoved his hand in his pocket, just to make sure that it wouldn't disappear once his eyes were off it.
"What makes you think there's going to be another time?" Peter asked out of curiosity as he walked towards the window he entered through.
Lonnie shrugged, swiveling his chair so he could watch Peter exit onto the fire escape. "Because I've been in this business a long fucking time. There's always a next time for brats like you," he said with a wave and a smile that could be mistaken as kind.
"Pleasure doing business with you."
Six hundred dollars. Peter could barely believe it and he squeezed the money in his pocket just to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep and all of this wasn't a dream. He had money. He had money! Glorious, glorious money.
Peter's stomach growled loud enough that those passing by gave him a look before continuing on. Dear lord, now that he had glorious, lovely money, he could actually buy food now. For the past few days, he's been eating nothing but soup from soup kitchens that Bruce Wayne guy set up across the city. The food wasn't bad, it was actually a lot better than he was expecting, but it just wasn't enough for those with superhuman appetites like him.
As if it were fate, Peter caught the scent of something made with blueberries. His eyes drifted to a small coffee shop and saw some of the largest muffins he had ever seen. Peter didn't even realize he was walking towards them until his hand was on the door and the sharp ring snapped him out of his hunger induced daze.
"Good morning," the barista greeted but Peter didn't fail to notice that her smile became a little more forced once she looked at him. He didn't really blame her. During his brief stint as a pizza delivery boy, he knew what it was like to live and die by the tip.
"Ah, morning," Peter said right back, glancing at the price tags. Everything here was cheap and, well calling it good for you was a bit of an exaggeration but it wasn't as bad it could be. Apparently, everything was organic and no preservatives. Lovely. "Can I get a large coffee and...three muffins?" He asked, frowning lightly as he mentally added the total.
Maybe he should take one of the muffins off. Or maybe two...hmmm...maybe he should just go with the coffee. He had some money now but he couldn't afford to blow it on impulse purchases. He needed a new suit, he needed to look into upgrading his usual equipment, he needed to pay for rent and he needed to save some money for actual groceries.
"Sure thing," the barista said, tapping on the cash register a few times before Peter could cancel his order altogether. "That'll be twenty-three dollars," she said with an all too polite smile. Peter must have made a face because she stopped smiling but he let out a sigh and pulled out one of the hundreds.
It almost physically hurt him to hand it over. Even more so when he put two bucks into the tip jar.
With that, he patiently waited for his coffee to be made as he thought about what he needed to do next. It was still early, barely six in the morning, so he had most of the day. Most people in the orphanage would be still asleep, so it was out for now, but he needed to look into that today.
'I guess I can check out the building,' Peter mused as he took his coffee and change, making sure he got the correct amount. He sipped his coffee and he wished he could say he felt it energize him like a battery but the only thing he could do was think it needed more sugar.
He also needed to make more of his web fluid. He was dangerously low as it was. He wasn't sure if he had enough to make it through the night, even without running into any villains. He could also add some more details about his background but he dismissed the idea for now. It might raise a few questions if he sat on the computer for another ten hours today.
Maybe he could take out two birds with one stone. Maybe he could set up shop in the building, the kids said no one went there so it could do the job. If it was fit for them to live in, then he could keep an eye on them that way too.
The only problem with that was it could put the kids in danger.
'I'll figure it out when I get there,' Peter figured to himself as he balanced his muffins on top of each other. However, he nearly ended up throwing them into the air when he heard the loudest, high pitched screech coming from a few feet away. His eyes snapped up, looking for trouble, but he didn't see any.
All he saw was a little girl standing on the side of the street, trying to scream her head off.
He looked around but he didn't see anyone rushing to her to calm her down. If anything, it was the opposite. Those that passed her by were either giving her the stink eye or outright ignoring her. That didn't deter the little girl though because she screamed wordlessly directly at the ones that were looking at her funny.
With a mental shrug, he walked towards her but she didn't notice. It took a couple of seconds for her to run out of breath, but when she gulped some down, Peter spoke up.
"Is something wrong?" He asked, squatting down. The girl looked at him suspiciously before she nodded mutely.
"I can't find my mom. She was taking me to school, but I wanted a muffin...when I turned around, she was gone!" She said after a moment, her voice hoarse from the screaming.
"Ah...so you were screaming to get her attention?" Peter ventured and the girl nodded again. "Smart," he said with a grin. No doubt everyone within the next few blocks could hear her. Her mom should look around and quickly notice that her daughter wasn't following her.
"Thanks," the girl muttered before shifting from foot to foot. "Will you help me find my mom?" She asked eventually and Peter's head bobbed.
"'Course I will," he said, straightening out. He scanned the crowd again for anyone that fit the bill of the girl's mother but he didn't see anyone that looked particularly panicked. Leaving this spot was a good idea on the chance that her mom was already on her way so that was out. She also didn't have a phone or she would have just sent her mom a text.
With that, he sat with her on a nearby bench and kept a look out. Sure, it would take some time but there was no way a parent wouldn't notice that their kid wasn't missing rather quickly. Especially if she was walking her to school.
There was silence for a long minute before Peter heard a light sniffle next to him. Glancing down, he saw the girl trying very hard to not cry. Peter floundered for a moment, trying to figure out how to stop this train wreck before it could happen before he just let out a small sigh.
"Don't worry, you're mom's going to be back soon. She's probably on her way right now," he reassured before he took a sip of his scalding hot coffee.
"How do you know?" She demanded, wiping her nose but the water works stopped. It seems that he knocked the nail on the head.
"Because I'm older, thus wiser and know everything," he said with a sage nod and cracked a grin when the look she gave him told him that she thought he was an idiot instead. She topped it off with making a disbelieving noise but fell silent quickly after.
Another minute ticked by and Peter still didn't see any sign of her mom. He wasn't the only one getting antsy because the girl looked like she was about to start crying again. Another few seconds ticked by and Peter drained the last of his coffee in a large gulp before he turned to the girl.
"Wanna see something cool?" He asked and the girl gave him a hesitant nod before he grabbed his three muffins. He tossed one of them high into the air before another one joined it. Within a second, Peter was juggling them. Peter glanced down at the girl and saw that she was moderately impressed but she still looked sad.
So, naturally, Peter kicked it up a notch.
He grabbed his empty cup and started juggling that too. Then he added his shoes to the mix, not even stopping to take them off. Then the girl decided she wanted to help and began throwing everything that she had in her book bag at him, which he caught and juggled it to.
Juggling, in the end, was one of the easiest skills that he learned. Having superhuman reflexes made it so very easy that. Originally, he learned the skill to test out his reflexes. He mastered the art within the hour.
So, it wasn't much trouble when he had well over a dozen objects of various shapes and weights flying through his hands. Before long, he needed to throw the object way up high to keep a steady circle going and his hands were little more than blurs. Slowly, a small crowd gathered or people lingered to watch before continuing their day.
Then they started doing the most amazing thing.
They started giving him money.
It was a coin or two there, maybe a buck or a five, but it was money!
The girl proved to be invaluable because she grabbed his empty coffee cup out of the circle and set it in front of the crowd. Naturally, she made sure to take every other coin as payment for her efforts. She left the bills for Peter, though, so he didn't really complain.
However, all good things must come to an end because a woman pushed through the crowd.
"Zoey! Zoey," the woman cried out as she all but shoved a man off his feet.
"Mommy," Zoey called out, abandoning the coins she was picking up. The woman scooped her up off her feet and hugged her. With a lopsided grin, Peter stopped juggling and deftly began piling up the girl's school books on the bench before catching his muffins and shoes.
By the time he was done, Zoey was grinning from ear to ear and her mom's expression was a mixture of relief and embarrassment. "Thank you," she said simply, "I..." she faltered and Peter gave and lopsided grin.
"It's no problem," he said, dismissing the issue entirely with a small wave of his hands. That seemed to do the trick because she looked smiled brightly before thanking him again. He just grinned away, feeling some pride but mostly just wishing that she would leave. He hadn't really done anything. Hell, if anything, he should be thanking her because he managed to remake the money he spent and a little extra.
The crowd began to disperse and Zoey still had school, so her mom started leading her away but that didn't stop her from waving goodbye. Peter waved back before as he recalled a snippet of their conversation. On impulse, he tossed her one of his muffins. In an indirect way, she did pay for it.
Zoey lit up as she fumbled to catch it, "Thank you mister!" she called out, waving the muffin like a trophy and Peter just smiled one more time before he began to walk away.
Only to come face to face with the most handsome guy he had ever seen before. Peter wasn't gay, he loved the female form far too much, but this guy wasn't just handsome. He was unreasonably handsome. Chiseled jaw, lips quirked up into a grin that he was willing to bet money, all of his money, that made girls legs weak at the knees and his eyes were a blue he hadn't known existed. His black hair was carefully styled to make it look like he had just rolled out of bed, but he somehow managed to pull it off.
He offered a hand and, on reflex, Peter shook it, "the names Dick Grayson." he introduced himself. "Those were some pretty sweet skills."
