A/N: I would like to thank everyone for helping this story reach 100 reviews. I appreciate every single one. I like constructive criticism, but if you are going to give me some, please try to give me tips. I'm not saying I'm going to follow them, but I will definitely consider them.
I would also like to point something out. A reviewer stated that they weren't a fan of Gwen Stacy anymore, because of the fact that she cheated on Peter with Norman Osborn in the 'Original Sin' storyline in the comics. As a giant fan of Spider-Man and comics in general, I think I speak for everyone when I say that whoever made that story deserves to be punched in the face, and that we will never acknowledge it in the canon again. I don't like giving away future details for this story, but I will say this. That storyline will NEVER happen here. It was terrible.
So let's just like this Gwen for who she is at the moment: A teenage girl who is Peter's best friend/love interest who will never get pregnant with Norman Osborn's babies. Ugh...
"Breaking News: Police are now on the look out for a man in a flight suit, after an assault on Oscrop owner and CEO, Norman Osborn. According to Osborn, the suspect is at least 60, and wearing a suit that's similar to a vulture. We will update this story as it unfolds."
Toomes shook his head. "Of course," he muttered to himself, as he wandered around his dockyard safehouse, listening to the radio. "Can't even give me the satisfaction of saying my name, can you?"
That blasted Spider-Man. He had to interfere, he had to ruin his opportunity to kill that blasted egomaniacal simpleton. Now that Norman is ready for him, there's no doubt he's already upped his security. He can't go with the straight forward approach anymore. He would have to come up with something else. Something smarter, less brash. But this suit, it gives him power. At 63 years old, he is stronger than the average man, able to move at speeds unconceivable to others. He could finally do what his mind was always capable of.
Osborn's day of reckoning will come. It's merely been postponed.
"This is super weird."
"Shut up."
"Come on, admit this is weird."
Peter was walking around the streets of New York, wearing his grey hoodie and jeans, alongside the Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff. It was more than strange to see Natasha in her civilian clothes, and not in her bodysuit that she usually wears. She had on a black shirt with a tan jacket over it, and a pair of jeans. The outfit showed off her natural beauty, but also helped her blend in with the regular people around her.
"Fine," the former assassin sighed. "It's a bit different."
"Nope. Weird," Peter simply stated, as he looked around. Here he was, walking around town, which was strange enough since he usually used his webs to get around, next to the least friendly but most attractive Avenger, and no one was batting an eye. They didn't realize it, of course, but come on!
"Here's how this is going to work," she told him, sternly. "I'm going to teach you the ropes on how to act towards women. If you tell anyone about this, there's a good chance that you'll die of mysterious causes."
"Mysterious?" Peter asked incredulously.
"People usually call me mysterious," she said, looking at him. "Anyway, you'll do what I say, you won't give me too much grief, and you'll become a gentlemen."
"Hey, I'm a gentlemen," Peter told her. "I hold doors open for people, I use 'please' and 'thank you'."
"That's just good manners," she stated. "Which is good, but not the same. Now, we're going to pretend we're on a date."
Peter opened his mouth.
"Shut up."
Peter closed his mouth.
"Good boy," she smirked. "Now, we're going to go out for dinner. Where would you take me?"
"Uh, well, there's a good hot dog stand around the corner," he said, the entire situation feeling surreal.
"Wrong," she bluntly told him.
Peter groaned. "I can't take her out to a fancy restaurant. I'm economically challenged."
"I'm not saying that," she stated. "You use what you have to the best of your advantage, in regular life and hero life. You don't have a lot of money, right? Then find a cheap diner."
"What's wrong with hot dogs?" He asked.
"It's fine if you're trying to get something to eat while on the move," she explained. "But if you want to be more personal, you sit down somewhere."
The two walked up to an outdoor café, and sat down, waiting for a waiter. It wasn't really busy, but seemed nice enough. "How do you know so much about dating?" He asked, curious.
"Why are you surprised?" She questioned, not showing any sign of emotion. "I've been on plenty of dates."
"Yeah? How many that weren't part of some top secret mission?"
Widow paused. "Not too many..." she admitted. "Doesn't mean I don't have the experience."
Peter looked at in with skepticism. "Uh huh. Dates with Hawkeye don't count," Peter told her.
She raised an eyebrow. "We never dated," she said.
"Wait, really?" Peter was surprised. "You two act, like, so close though."
"We're good friends, but that's it. We met a long time ago. SHIELD found out about me and sent Clint to terminate me. He decided against it."
"I'm sure Fury was happy about that," Peter sarcastically stated.
"He had me under close surveillance for an entire month. Then he had Barton watch me like a-" She cut herself off, realizing what she was about to say.
"Say it," Peter said.
"No."
"Saaaay it."
She took a deep sigh. "...like a hawk."
"Ha!"
"Don't make me kill you," she told him.
"But really, nothing happened there?" He asked, still not being able to wrap his head around this.
"No, not with him," she told him. After a second, she looked at Peter, and realized that she slipped up.
"Then with who?" He asked, noticing the expression on her face.
The Avenger set her jaw, not wanting to talk about this. At all. "Forget it," she ordered.
"Natasha-"
"Parker," she warned, dangerously. "Forget it."
Peter went silent, as the two stared at each other. The look in Natasha's eyes almost dared him to speak about it, but Peter figured that for once, she'd follow through with her death threat against him. More than anything though, he could see the slight hint of pain on her face, an emotion that she has been more than able to cover up in the past.
So, the teenager dropped it, knowing he'd get nowhere. A waiter finally came up to the table, ready to ask what they wanted to eat.
"I'll have the soup," Natasha told him, before the waiter could even ask. "Whatever the specialty is today."
"Uh, same, thank you," Peter added, trying not to be rude. The waiter looked at the two for a second, not quite sure how to react, before he just walked off to deliver the order.
"Tell me about yourself, Parker," Natasha suddenly says, blind sighting the teenager.
"What?" He asked, confused.
"You need to be a good conversationalist on a date," she said, matter-of-factly. "This is training. Now, tell me about yourself."
"Well, I like long walks on the beach, webs, and Peanut Butter. Huge fan of Peanut Butter. Huge."
"Why did you become Spider-Man?" She asked.
Peter went quiet, as he looked around, to see that no one was listening. Of course, Black Widow already knew. "What is this, exactly?" He said, suddenly feeling entirely uncomfortable.
"A conversation," she said, her eyes piercing through him.
"I just got bit by a spider. I'm assuming you got bit by a black widow?"
"Nothing survives a bite from a black widow," she stated, obviously alluding to herself. "So, you got your powers from the bite."
"You already know all of this," he said, feeling defensive.
"I want to hear it from you," she said, studying him. Peter felt like prey to her. That he was just being toyed with. And he had no idea why she would put him in this situation, or make him feel like this, because she definitely knew what she was doing.
"I got my powers, and I used them," Peter bluntly said.
"Oh no," Natasha wasn't buying it. "There was more to it then that."
"Dammit Natasha-"
"Aren't you a little young to be swearing?"
"There are seven year olds that drop F bombs like they're hot, I think I can swear a bit. Especially when a super secret agent is interrogating me like a crook."
"I'm not...that's not what's happening here," She said, trying to sound gentle, and failing at it.
"Then what is it?" He questioned. "Because I feel like I'm being attacked right now."
Natasha just went quiet, trying to find the right words. Slowly, she leaned forward slightly, looking at the table, before she made eye contact with the brunette again. "I'm trying to find a reason to trust you."
Her words hit Peter unexpectedly, and suddenly it all made sense. Out of all the Avengers, she was the only one that didn't feel comfortable around Peter. She wanted to rectify that. At least, that's what he thinks is going on. He is terrible when it comes to women, after all.
"Peter?" She asked, a bit concerned that she made the boy block himself off.
"After I got the powers, I...I figured I could make some money off of it. So, I made this really bad costume, and I...wrestled."
Natasha looked at him in curiosity. "What?" She doesn't remember anything about that in Parker's file.
"I know, I know. Pro wrestling. It seemed like an easy way to make money, and it was. But I didn't get the amount I was suppose to from the booker. I was mad at the guy, and I stormed out. A few seconds later, this other guy runs out, and the booker came out, and said that he just got robbed. By the guy. I told him it wasn't my problem, and I left."
Natasha was stunned. She had never seen Peter act self-centered, and it was shocking to hear him be as forward with an act of selfishness as he was.
"The guy, though, he..." Peter frowned, trying to keep his composure. "He shot my Uncle Ben. Stole his car and shot him, and, and he would still be alive if I did something. With great power must also come great responsibility. And that's why I'm Spider-Man."
Natasha just stared at him with wide eyes, not expecting that kind of a response. "Parker..." she trailed off.
"Yes?" He asked.
"You just earned my trust. And maybe even my respect."
"It's cause we're both spiders, isn't it?"
"Ok, never mind, just my trust."
"Dang. So close."
Harlem was never an especially nice place. It may be sad, but it's true. Due to gang fights, drug wars, and gun violence, the entire section of New York was a hell hole. But that only made it more appealable to a certain gangster.
Tombstone was currently inside a hidden bar, secret to all but the underground crime circuit, with boarded up windows, an old pool table, and bar stools that had more splinters than they probably should. It's been a few weeks since he suddenly found himself out of work, and he's been laying low ever since. After all, he doesn't want to end up as some poor stiff that'd get thrown in the river. Even though, quite frankly, it'd be fun to see someone try.
He quietly drank his beer, as he sat at a table in the corner, trying to keep out of people's sight. It wasn't working, however, as people just couldn't help but notice the monster of a man, with pale white skin, and steel like muscles. Tombstone grinded his razor sharp teeth together. He hated it when people stared. It made him angry. So what if he looked weird, he was more man than any of these jerks put together. If his friend didn't get there soon, he was gonna turn this bar into a crime scene.
"Tombstone," a man with a thick New York accent greeted, making the pale man turn to his side. He gave a smirk, as he saw the owner of the bar, a suited man, with a large, square head.
"Hammerhead," Tombstone said fondly, as the gangster sat across from him.
"What do I owe the pleasure of youse coming here?" Hammerhead asked, as he folded his hands over each other. The enforcer wasn't too fond of most people, but he always felt a certain kinship with Tombstone. Both were muscle, both had more brains than people realized, and both were freaks. They bonded.
"I'm afraid I'm here for business," Tombstone stated, leaning forward slightly, as he took another gulp of his liquor.
"Ugh," Hammerhead groaned. "I was hoping this would be a break from work. We neva' hang around anymores. Plus, Cage and his pal keep causin' trouble for my boys, and-"
"Silvermane's dead," Tombstone told him, making the large headed man freeze in his seat.
"I'm sorry..." he quietly said. "He was one of the originals. A good man in this line of work, if there eva' was one. Tried to take over, didn't try ta hurt anyone if he didn't have ta."
"And he was a damn fine boss," Tombstone stated, earning a nod of agreement from Hammerhead. "Fisk took him out. Took over his territory, and is coming for yours next."
Hammerhead looked at him with a stoic expression on his face. "Why are you coming to me then? Seems like you'd want ta stay away from me."
"I'm safer with you than without you," Tombstone admitted. "I'm all alone now. But with you-"
"You want a partnership?" Hammerhead asked.
Tombstone looked right in his eyes, his steely expression hardening. "I want a person I can count on."
Hammerhead nodded, not wanting to throw his friend out to the cold. "What do we do to keep Fisk off us?"
"We show that he ain't as powerful as people think his is. That you could get to him. I think we call up the girl."
Hammerhead raised an eyebrow. "The girl? You sure?"
Tombstone gave a shark-like smirk. "Positive."
"Ok, seriously? This is a bit much."
Peter was struggling immensely at the moment, as he tried to balance at least seven boxes on top of each other. As part of his date training, Black Widow decided to go on a shopping spree, for things she honestly didn't need or really want, and make Peter hold everything.
"Why are you complaining?" She asked, not looking at him as the two made their way down the sidewalk. "You have super strength and can stick to anything."
"I'm not a professional box balancer!" Peter exclaimed, as he tried his best to avoid bumping into the people around him. "Why are we doing this?"
"Girls take their boyfriends shopping," she simply stated, as she pulled out a pair of sunglasses and put them on. It was a bit bright for her.
"I'm not her boyfriend! I'm taking her out to a dance!"
"But you want to be her boyfriend, don't you?"
"Well, yeah, but-" Peter cut himself off when his spider sense started tingling slightly. "What? Whoa!" He cried, as he tripped over something, making him fall to the hard concrete and drop all the boxes on the ground, some of them opening up and having the contents spill out. He looked up, to see an irate Natasha, staring at something behind him. He looked back, and let out a large sigh.
He saw the form of Flash Thompson, with his foot sticking out. "Puny Parker!" Flash obnoxiously roared. "What's up with you!? I can't remember the last time I've seen you out of school."
"Hello, Flash," Peter said, annoyed, as he got back to his feet, his knees sore from the impact of the ground. He doubts Flash has the brain capacity to remember much, least of all the last time they hung out as friends.
The football star looked at Natasha, sizing her up with his eyes. "Who's the babe, Parker?"
Natasha stomped over towards the bully, and quickly grabbed his arm, twisting it at an unnatural angle and making the blonde bully start yelping in pain. "I am not a babe."
"Ah! Ah! Easy!" He begged.
"You know, if I pull your arm back just a little bit more, I could break it right off," she emotionlessly stated, as a few people around them were giving them concerned looks.
"Uh, Nat," Peter started, tapping her on the shoulder.
"Please don't hurt me!" Flash was practically at the point of tears by now.
"Say you're sorry to Peter," she ordered.
"I'm-I'm sorry Parker-"
"Peter."
"I'm sorry Peter! Please get her off!" He sniveled, his nose running as his arm stayed bent.
"Nat!" Peter said, as she looked at the teenager with an intrigued look.
"Isn't this your bully?" She asked.
"I don't know if he's my bully. I think he's just a bully. But come on, let him go."
She sighed. "Fine," she said, releasing him. He started rubbing his arm, as he sniffed back tears. He looked at the red headed woman, with fear in his eyes. She stared right back. "I suggest you lay off Peter. And if I ever see you again, I'm ripping off your legs and shoving them down your throat. Got it?"
Flash whimpered slightly. "Yes ma'am! I'm sorry ma'am!"
Peter was shocked. He had never seen Flash in this state before. The brash, overconfident pig that he was used to dealing with was replaced by a child that was afraid of the world around him. All because he called Black Widow a babe.
Which she was, but Peter would never say it out loud. Look what happened to Flash.
"Come on," she told Peter, who gave Flash one last look before following her.
"Are we going to pick your stuff back up?" He asked, as the two left the scene, people still watching them before they turned a corner.
"Don't need it."
Peter's mouth came agape. "That was like, 700 dollars!" He told her.
"It's charged to Stark," she explained. "700 to him is a penny to you."
"You underestimate how much I love pennies," Peter joked. "Seriously though, Flash is probably going to beat me up twice as hard now."
"Just don't blow your cover," she advised. "Other than that, do what you want."
"Your concern is greatly appreciated," he said, in the most insincere tone he could muster.
"We're going to pick up some flowers and chocolate," she informed him.
"Why?"
"Girls love flowers and chocolate," she explained.
"Not all of them."
"I love flowers and chocolate."
"I stand corrected."
The two continued about their day, both happy with themselves for forming a new bond.
