"Elizabeth blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation." - Pride and Prejudice, ch. 18


Peter wanders into the dining room with the vague idea of finding his nearest family member and nodding along to whatever conversation they're involved in. Being alone here isn't an option, someone will come up to him with, 'Hey, didn't you used to be Spider-Man?' and then he won't be able to think.

Brad proves him right, intercepting Peter as he spots Nebula heading for the corridor to the kitchen, before he can get over to her.

The guy's shitty mask of friendliness is one eye-twitch away from devolving into a sneer.

"You know what I heard?" Brad asks.

Comebacks, while tempting, won't help end this conversation any faster, so Peter reluctantly sets that option aside.

"What's that?" he responds tightly.

"That you've got yourself a new BFF. Liz Allan. Daughter of a convicted criminal, you know," Brad observes, one hand in his pocket while the other nonchalantly swirls a martini. Peter's own hand clenches into a fist at his side. "Let me give you a friendly tip: don't believe everything she tells you. MJ didn't do shit to her. She's been more than fair. Liz, meanwhile..."

Brad trails off and glances around before speaking again. Peter wants to get away, but Nebula's gone and he's too self-conscious to stride aimlessly towards strangers. He can't stand how this looks, Brad practically whispering in his ear―like they're scheming. It's sleazy and dishonest and Peter wants to shrug it off, this guy and this house and this bullshit.

"Now, I haven't heard specifics," Brad goes on, delicately lifting the toothpick from his drink and sliding an olive free with his teeth, "just that nothing is MJ's fault and that she can't stand―" he emphasizes, chewing, "―hearing the name 'Liz Allan.' I can't believe Liz would even show her face here. Pretty ballsy to come back to New York with MJ feeling like she does." It's like he notices Peter―and the furious look on his face―for the first time. "Sorry, Spider-Man, must be tough to find out you sided with the bad guy, though it can't be that much of a surprise, considering where her dad ended up."

"You literally just admitted that the only scandalous thing you can prove is her father's conviction. You're holding something against Liz that doesn't have anything to do with her," Peter points out, fuming. "And it has even less to do with Michelle."

He steps around Brad, angrily, then turns back. "And by the way, Liz told me that herself. Nice bombshell."

Brad scoffs and spreads his hands like he doesn't deserve this backlash.

"Well, sorry. Just trying to help you out."

"Asshole," Peter mutters under his breath and turns away for good.

As if some vile attack by that piece of shit is going to change Peter's opinion of Liz. Brad can't possibly expect Peter to believe him, can he? Not when he presents his case so carelessly and with so much obvious prejudice. If anything, all Brad's really revealed is his willingness to blindly defend Michelle. Peter could've guessed at that without the demonstration.

Peter's deeply relieved to find his brother without much searching; Vision's just releasing Wanda's hand―they're holding hands now?―and looks happy to see Peter. It helps. Actually, Vision just looks happy in general. He's clearly been having a far less fraught evening than Peter has. He sets everything else to one side for a second, appreciating his brother's contentment, before he springs the necessary subject on him.

"Did Wanda know anything about Liz? If you remembered to ask her," he clarifies with a knowing smile, "since you guys look pretty wrapped up in each other."

Vision's flustered and stuttering, then catches Peter with a sharp look.

"I assure you, I did remember, though unfortunately, I have little to report. Miss Jones has never told Wanda the particulars of her relationship with Miss Allan. However, Wanda comes very readily to her best friend's defence and assures me that Miss Jones is driven by honesty and justice, and would never deliberately mistreat anyone. She says it's likely that Miss Allan deserved even less acknowledgement than Miss Jones allowed her. Peter," Vision says gently, recalling his brother from a frown of disbelief. "Both Wanda and Brad have impressed upon me that Miss Allan... Liz... is not the upstanding young woman we would like to believe her to be. Whatever the true cause of the rift between the women, it's Liz who has erred, earning Miss Jones's rejection."

Peter still doesn't buy it, though it's harder to disagree when the words come from Vision. He wants to believe his brother, but this is second-hand information and he can't let his trust in his brother add credibility where it isn't due.

"So Wanda doesn't know Liz directly?" he clarifies.

Vision shakes his head.

"Their first meeting was at the market in Albany."

"That means everything she told you," Peter reasons, "comes from Michelle. Her best friend is her only source of information. Of course she's going to take her side." He sighs. It's surprisingly comforting to reach a dead end. "Did Wanda know anything about the payments? The financial support the Joneses were giving Liz and her mom?"

"She was and remains unaware of the particulars of their arrangement, but said Miss Jones had implied a misuse of the funds by Liz."

"I know you don't think Wanda would lie to us," Peter tells his brother. "Neither do I. It's just... I need more than that. I respect how she's backing up her friend, but she doesn't have all the information, and what she does have is biased because it's what Michelle told her. I haven't changed my mind about this. I can't."

He lets the subject drop, encouraging his brother to delve into the far more pleasant topic of Wanda―specifically, how Vision stammeringly hopes she feels about him. Peter does some fervent bolstering in an effort to convince Vision that Wanda's definitely into him; they were holding hands earlier, weren't they?! That's a pretty damn good sign.

When Wanda walks over, touching Vision tenderly on the arm and smiling at them both, Peter decides to let the convincing come from the woman herself. He heads back to Ned.

It's totally fair of Ned to ask what it was like to dance with Michelle Jones, but Peter has trouble thinking of a reply, let alone getting it out. Intense is the word he keeps landing on. He can't say that to Ned though, he'll misconstrue it, spin it into some kind of positive that Peter can't handle right now. The unlikeliest person saves him from having to pry open the bear trap of hazardous recent memory: Flash Thompson. He pulls up a chair right between them.

"I just heard something insane," he begins eagerly, glancing from Ned to Peter. "I'm literally shitting myself."

"God, I hope not," Peter says under his breath.

"You guys know Michelle Jones, right?"

"Kinda." Ned gives Peter a look for his blatantly sarcastic tone, but Flash is undeterred and presses on.

"Well, I just heard someone ask her how her Aunt Carol's doing and then how Carol's kinda-brother is. And guess who the fuck that is?" Flash demands. "Director Nick fucking Fury!"

"No kidding."

"This is fate," Flash insists, though no one's protesting. "I had no idea tonight would be the night I got to meet Fury's niece."

Wait a sec.

"Well..." Peter starts. "I don't know if this is the best―"

"It's a good thing I found out now. Fuck, if we'd gone back to the compound and I saw somebody mention it on Insta―" There are designated hashtags for tonight's event, Peter recalls, so that people who aren't having existential crises can help Wanda promote her new restaurant online. "I would've been so mad that I missed my chance." He slaps Ned and Peter on the back simultaneously. "Wish me luck. I'm going to go perform a little ass-kissing and hope she's not offended that I didn't do it sooner. If she's anything like her kinda-uncle, she'll be expecting some deference."

"Hang on." Peter grabs Flash's arm, holding him in place. "You're going to introduce yourself to Michelle Jones?"

Flash shrugs him off (only because Peter's surprised and lets him) and buttons his burgundy suit jacket.

"Hell yeah, I am."

"I really don't think..." Peter tries.

"And apparently, neither does Flash," Ned concludes as Flash swaggers confidently away without listening to Peter's warning. What Peter was going to say was that this is a bad time, that Michelle won't be in any kind of mood to tolerate Flash, not after the rocky conversation Peter had with her. This is going to be a trainwreck.

"He's screwed," Ned observes as they watch Flash approach Michelle.

"So screwed."

"She'll steamroll him."

"There'll be nothing left to bury."

A server passes them with hors d'oeuvres and the boys assemble a communal plate, then snack without taking their eyes off of Flash and Michelle. Even from a ways away, it's obvious how much Michelle wants to be left alone. She's standing moodily in a corner! That's a signal even Peter wouldn't have misread! They watch Flash whip out his phone and show her the screen with a smug look on his face, like a cop flashing his badge. Ugh, he's probably showing her one of his social media pages like, yeah, this is me. Peter can imagine Flash saying that.

The room's loud, but Peter's superior senses can still make out enough to know Flash has gotten right to the point, fawning over Fury and getting ready to grovel before Michelle by extension. She's barely replying. Like, one-word answers. That clearly isn't stopping Flash from talking for as long as he wants. Peter suddenly feels embarrassed to be watching this, more embarrassed that Flash is here as a guest of his family and therefore a reflection on them. This jackass is a huge liability. Why didn't they seal him in one of the labs or workshops? Chemical burns, power tool accidents―either would've been preferable to this awkward interaction. Please, he thinks, let Michelle assume Flash is drunk. The smallest excuse for his behaviour would be a welcome miracle. Peter covers his face and groans, but he can't resist looking. He needs to know how this ends.

Looks like it ends with Michelle brushing by Flash and walking briskly away, face severely unimpressed.

Peter doesn't particularly want to know more, but Flash hurries back to their table, smirking triumphantly.

"Oh man, that went great," Flash gushes. "I think she was flattered. Makes sense, right? Probably wasn't expecting the attention when the event's about Wendy."

"Wanda."

Flash snaps his fingers.

"Yeah, that's it. Anyway, she was totally polite." He snags one of the hors d'oeuvres from their plate. "And, this is the best part, Michelle said that Fury must really like me or else he'd have had me killed by now. Isn't that great?"

Peter can't nod in good conscience, let alone speak, because what he wants to agree would be great is Director Fury having Flash killed so he can't do something like this again. At least, that's how Peter's feeling in the moment. It'll pass.

"I never thought of it like that before," Flash says around his mouthful, "but that's a pretty awesome way to put it."

Peter's struggling to see Flash's point of view. He shakes his head and looks around for Vision, spying him at Wanda's side as she speaks to some people Peter doesn't know. Their earlier hand-holding was cute, in a teenager-ish way, but the way they stand together, Vision staring at Wanda's face with adoring eyes, reminds Peter of something. His parents. Vision and Wanda glow with affection, stability, and mutual support. They've never even gone on a date, and yet Peter can see them living here together, co-hosting dinners and always saying the right things to guests. It's... it's really nice.

Sounds like their dad thinks so too. The word gets around that Wanda's going to make a short speech, so most people decide to sit, and Peter sees Tony walking over to the table with Ned's parents. Tony negotiates his exoskeleton-encased legs into a chair and looks to their host with approving eyes as she addresses her guests. Peter glances at him while Wanda's wrapping it up, graciously thanking everyone for coming, and realizes he hasn't seen his dad try to steal the spotlight tonight. He doesn't think Tony necessarily means to―it's just, like, a thing he can't help.

Wanda concludes her speech and gravitates towards Vision; Peter sees his dad's eyes twinkle, observing them. That can't be good. Tony rises from the table with Ned's parents and before he gets far, his voice is rising, his hand gestures growing more animated. He's talking about Vision. Vision and Wanda. As a couple (they aren't yet). As a done-deal investor-entrepreneur partnership (definitely not yet). Oh shit. And because he is who he is, Tony doesn't leave it at broad hopes for the future. No, he gets specific, calculating Wanda's probable debt and loans, the minutiae of her background criteria, the benefits of her living so close by. Then, how nice he thinks it is that Brad and Vision are becoming good friends, how sure he is that Brad wants these bonds between Wanda and Vision forged as much as Vision does. After that, Tony goes macro―considering the bigger picture and dragging the rest of his kids into his enthusiastic prophesying. He loudly predicts that this first venture will open the door for his sons and daughters to develop their own exciting, ground-breaking empires. People are paying attention, like they always do when a Stark starts grandstanding. Tony throws in some bullshit about how nice it'll be to enjoy the simple life at home with his children making their own way in the world. It's an absolute. Fucking. Nightmare.

Peter clambers off his chair and sidles up to his dad as furtively as he's able, whispering for him to shut up. (He wouldn't normally use those words with his father, but desperate times...) When Tony ignores him, making even larger gestures to his small crowd (oh man) of listeners, Peter begs him to at least lower his voice. He glances away frantically, seeking Pepper or Vision, and his gaze streaks across Michelle Jones. Tony shushes Peter's concerns, but now Peter's the one not listening. Everything she's ever believed about their family is radiating from the confident words and commanding posture of Tony Stark: power, entitlement, money.

"Michelle's going to hear you," Peter hisses hysterically.

"Michelle Jones?" his dad pauses to ask. "So what? She's not the boss of me."

Peter rolls his eyes.

"Please, Dad. Just... quieter, please? If she doesn't like what you're saying, she'll tell Wanda, and you really don't want to screw up your friendship with Wanda, right? That'd be stupid if you want all these things to happen."

Nothing works because his father is defiant and belligerent and as unwilling to bend to someone else's requests as a cranky toddler at bedtime. All Peter can do is stand there in profound embarrassment while Tony brags and prognosticates, never getting quieter. As recklessly as his dad's behaving, it isn't in Peter to leave his side, but he does constantly glance at Michelle. She's not actively observing Tony... and yet, something about the severity of her posture tells Peter she's listening. What Peter can see of her face shifts through expressions of anger, disgust, and contempt, then settles on a sorta flat iciness.

He isn't sure if Michelle's visible dislike ends before or after his dad finally finishes his lecture, because it's one fucking thing after the next with his family tonight―there's a distressing mechanical noise from the kitchen and when Peter bolts in there to investigate, he finds Nebula. Goddammit, why hasn't anybody been watching her? Not that she's a child, she's just too unpredictable, especially the longer she's around a large group of people. Harley could've been with her! Their dad should've been with her! The havoc she's caused is evident; even as Peter freezes just inside the door, his sister continues to insist to the staff that she can make their processes of preparing food more efficient, can simply make very minor adjustments to their equipment...

Without getting too close (there are a lot of knives in here, ok? And he's seen her wield a knife), Peter approaches the situation with a sense of humour, attempting to coax her back into the dining room. But apparently, Nebula's emulating Dad tonight because she doesn't react to his words. She continues to insist to everyone around her that she knows better, until flames are flaring from every burner of a large gas stove and food processors are violently whirring like they thirst to slice someone's hand clean off their wrist. Peter swallows nervously. He's wondering how bad this can get. Will a smoke detector go off? Will they have to evacuate the building? Will bad press caused by his family make Wanda's restaurant tank before it even gets off the ground?

Peter's undoing the top buttons of his shirt, readying himself to move fast enough to rescue people from appliances pushed past their limit. If there was a way to call Vision in here without attracting Wanda's attention to the precarious state of her new kitchen, he'd do it. Just as he's forcefully puffing out a breath before jumping into action―the plan is to pull Nebula back, hopefully let go before she can instinctively attack him, then clear the kitchen of the rest of the people until he figures out a way to shut everything off―Tony barges in. Peter slumps in relief. Maybe their dad's kind of a loudmouth in public, but he'll fix this. He'll take care of it.

"Uh, hey, Neb," Tony calls out, making her swivel around. "I think you have enough toys at home. Why don't you let the other kids have a turn?"

Oh god, not like that! Peter's hand goes to his forehead, fingers yanking into his hair. The one thing you never do with Nebula is humiliate her. It's not like she had a typical childhood (or, just, a childhood), but she knows when she's being patronized.

"Nebula," Peter says softly to his sister, but she's shouldering past him and out of the kitchen, fury caged carefully behind her features.

He glares at their dad, who's really screwing up tonight. Is it because Mom isn't glued to his side (she always treats events as networking opportunities), babysitting him? Is it the weight of his own dreams for uniting the Park and SI, Wanda and Vision? Peter sighs. His dad puts too much pressure on himself. But he's still a dumbass, so Peter leaves him in the kitchen to charm the staff and get first pick of the next round of hors d'oeuvres.

In an amazingly short period of time, it looks like Flash has joined the dumb-shit parade, because the guy's concluding a noisy, boisterous speech (to his phone) that too many people are noticing. Can this be it? Can Peter go home now and bang his head against the wall in the privacy of his own bedroom? He spots Michelle staring at Flash with a disturbed look on her face. Oh, and there's Brad, looking much more openly scornful. Awesome.

Tony exits the kitchen behind him and Peter's too done to even be mad, though he still flinches when, with a hand on his shoulder, his dad leans towards Mr. Leeds and says what a great, ambitious, far-sighted kid Flash Thompson is, and a member of the Stark Industries family. Why does his dad do this? They don't even know what Flash was saying.

The one good thing―literally the one fucking good thing―is that, when Peter sees Vision and Wanda, they appear oblivious to everything around them. He has this bashful look on his face and she's blushing around an adoring smile. In Peter's eyes, it's enough to make up for the fact that Michelle and Brad will definitely have seen Flash exhibiting himself and the party for the benefit of the Flash Mob. There's their fuel to continue deriding the Starks and the people they choose as their guests for the rest of eternity.

The theme for the rest of Peter's tonight is endurance. He's patient with (meaning, he ignores) Flash when the guy decides to turn his focus on Spider-Man, asking question after question. It doesn't start out with ignoring him, but when Peter offers to find somebody to introduce Flash to―there must be somebody, anybody here he vaguely recognizes―and Flash is content to stick to him and only him (and says so outright), the ignoring begins in earnest. Ned, champion among men, nudges into Peter and Flash's one-sided conversation bit by bit until he's fully tag-teamed in and Flash leaves Peter alone.

The other relief is Michelle. She doesn't pick a fight about Liz, or even attempt neutral conversation. She actually doesn't even look at Peter, though she's occasionally near his table, and though he knows she's probably ignoring him, weirdly, her disregard feels like shelter instead of punishment. Like Michelle's putting his recharge time on her tab.

The Starks (plus Flash―always plus fucking Flash) are the last to drag their sorry asses out of the party sometime after midnight. It gives the more sullen of their hosts plenty of time to work up a good scowl; Brad should really take a selfie, Peter thinks, because he seems like the kind of dick who'd be proud of how nasty he looks. The only thing he says isn't to them, it's just a general complaint of how tired he is and how nice it'll be to finally get to bed. The criticism of the Starks inhumanely forcing him to stay awake is obvious to Peter. Tony's still up to making conversation, but even Iron Man's getting shut down by Brad tonight.

Flash is in a league of his own, throwing out last minute compliments about every detail. Peter tunes him out, suspecting Flash must have been making a list all night so he wouldn't forget when he got the chance to announce them.

Michelle, characteristically, doesn't say a word. Pepper's silent too and Peter would guess she's heard some of the things her family got up to tonight and is internally considering damage control.

Vision and Wanda are in a world of their own, talking quietly. Peter purposely blocks out their words to give them privacy, saying nothing himself as he stands with Nebula (sullen), Morgan (tuckered), and Harley (yawning). His brother, like Brad, is whining about being tired. As if they don't all have fucked-up sleep schedules 90% of the time.

After these largely unpleasant and drawn-out methods of saying goodbye, Tony tosses out a last-second offer to have Wanda visit the compound soon so they can return the favour of cooking for her. Despite the probably stresses of the night, and everything it took to get there, she's warm and eager in her acceptance. So Tony ushers his family from the event, barely minding the pain in his back and legs (when they get back to the compound, he'll groan his way out of the exoskeleton and take something, letting Pepper drive home in the meantime), thrilled because he's certain about the Park coming under the banner of Stark Industries. About Vision going beyond everything he's ever imagined for him by being human enough to fall in love. About Flash's arrival soon resulting in a big chance for Peter to spread his battered wings.


The Starks' kitchen table, laid with a cobbled-together breakfast, is the backdrop for varying degrees of pain in the morning. Harley's trying to hide both his hangover and his sour expression from his mother (she's rolling her eyes that he thinks he's succeeding), face nearly resting in his plate of eggs fried in a brick of butter. Tony's shifting constantly in his wheelchair, swigging coffee and longing to roll into the living room and stretch the persistent soreness out of his back. Pepper's as stressed and distracted as she's ever been at a family meal, bites of burnt pancake (Morgan put Nebula in charge of flipping them and she's dubious about the strength of their stove) reaching her mouth every so often while she taps rapidly at her tablet with one hand and sends incoming calls to voicemail with the other.

Finally, she groans and Tony's back straightens. He knows the groan is for him.

"People keep asking if what you said last night about Stark Industries investing in the Park is an official rollout of a new phase for the company. I'm running out of ways to say, 'No, my husband just gets carried away.'"

Harley shrugs and grumbles, "You could throw the word 'loudmouth' in there for variety."

He smirks woozily at his dad who holds up a warning finger.

"That's strike one, kid." Quickly, Tony rearranges his features from stern to suck-up and turns the expression on his wife. "Maybe you could hold off on sending any more of those retractions."

Subtly, he catches Flash's eye and gives him a meaningful nod.

Their guest wipes his mouth with a napkin and clears his throat like he's about to perform an opera; it's over-the-top and meant to draw the eye of everyone at the table. Peter gets an anxious, skittish feeling that his pain has just clocked in.

"Uh, yeah, I was hoping to talk to Peter this morning," Flash declares.

"I'm not sure why you felt the need to annou―" Pepper begins, but Tony reaches to pat her hand, shushing her in a way that makes his wife's expression harden.

"Yep, great idea, Flash," Tony says quickly. He's still looking at Pepper with pleading, placating eyes. "I think Peter's been looking forward to this."

It's unclear who the comment is really meant for. Pepper? Flash? Peter himself, in an extremely last-ditch attempt to make him feel involved in the trap about to swallow him?

"Wait," he starts when Tony begins hastily stacking everyone's breakfast plates.

Harley looks sorrowful as his eggs are prematurely squished, but he gets up from the table, automatically putting out his hand for Morgan before she can even extend hers to grasp it. Nebula seems happy to get back to whatever she's been doing today and disappears in a blue flash.

"No, no," Peter says, more frantically now. "Stay. You guys, stay." He laughs nervously as his mom lets Vision―ever loyal to Tony―lead her out. "Why would Flash have to talk to me alone? I don't mind if anybody overhears."

He shoves his chair back and his dad's wheeling over in a second.

"Pete, trust me on this one. Stay put."

Peter opens his mouth, desperate, but Tony's giving him that 'I am Iron Man' look that means he's the boss of Peter as long as Peter lives under his ridiculously large roof. He shuffles his chair back into place. The best thing to do, he figures, is to just get this over with. Sometimes the only way out is through. Peter repeats this to himself, taking a deep breath. The crescent of his half-eaten pancake is smiling up at him from his plate, the only one not cleared from the table. His dad was probably trying not to get too close to make sure he wouldn't bolt. Ugh, the betrayal.

The second it's just Flash and Peter, Flash gets up and slides into the seat beside him, where Nebula was.

"That's nice," Flash starts, gesturing to the doorway Peter's backstabbing family just exited through, "that you like to keep things out in the open. Honesty. That's a quality I can appreciate. Don't worry though―this is all above board, I already talked it over with Mr. Stark."

Yeah, no shit he's talked something over with Peter's dad. Awesome how Peter gets to be the last to know.

"And what is 'it' exactly?" Peter asks.

"I came here..." Flash inhales dramatically, "...with a purpose. I need a business partner." Peter stares back at him. "I got here and... I knew almost right away that it has to be you. But lemme explain. That should appeal to you, right, science guy? The logic behind my decision?"

Honestly, none of this appeals to Peter. Decision? Decision? It can't be a decision until Peter gets a say. Even if Flash did talk to Tony about this, Peter's dad doesn't run his life! This is precisely what he's claimed to be protecting Peter from by keeping Fury away. He's so thrown off by Flash's whole introduction that he misses his chance to interrupt the guy.

"First of all," Flash says, diving right in, "it would give me a lot of credibility with the people."

"The people?"

"My viewers. Followers and potential followers. If they see me actually working with Spider-Man, they'll believe me when I say I have connections to superheroes and that my insight into their―sorry, your― lives is legit. Second," Flash's hand lands on the back of Peter's chair and Peter wants to wiggle off the far edge and creep away from all of this, "I think bringing you into the fold will help me improve. You know, give me confidence. I was inspired by you long before I met you and, I don't know, man, I think that's gotta keep building if we team up. Third, and maybe this should've been first, but I was nervous and it's too late now, is that Fury supports this idea. Not that I choose you specifically, but he's gonna love it, so don't even worry."

Peter wonders if Flash thinks it's normal to have to tell someone not to worry so much and have them believe that what he's saying really is a good idea.

"The thing is, Fury's not always available," Flash explains, "but he wants me to approach things the right way, give an authentic perspective on my superhero content. You're perfect." He pokes Peter in the chest. Peter saw it coming and stopped himself from leaping out of the way. Soon, soon Flash will shut up and he can tell him he doesn't want to be a propaganda tool. Doesn't his dad see what this is? "By the way, I can totally hook you up with an introduction, if you want. An audience with Fury is just one of the many perks of working with me."

Well, Tony can't know about that. Whatever else he and Flash have evidently agreed on, there's no way it includes Peter becoming pals with Fury.

"Now," Flash says seriously, "part two. Obviously, I'm starting to get a little recognition, plus I've inherited my dad's company and Thompson Integrated Trust is no joke, you know? People want to work for me, even enhanced people, like yourself."

Peter frowns in disbelief, but Flash isn't really paying attention to anything outside of himself right now.

"So, what I'm saying is, I could just sign a contract with Joe Superhero from Radiationville, USA, but I want to keep this in the family, by which I mean the family our fathers' two companies became when my dad bought up all those Stark Industries shares." He mentions the transfer of power so offhandedly that Peter shudders. "I thought the best way to move forward together would be a little crosspollination; I silently own your corporation, you get a say in how I operate mine. As you can see, I don't want to push your family out, I want to bring you in."

Flash's voice is eager and earnest and Peter's feeling queasy.

"Like I said," he reiterates, "I wanted to get all that out there before I circled back to the main thing, which is that I think you're freaking amazing, Spider-Man. I've said it a billion times to the Flash Mob, but I'm never going to get tired of saying it to your face. I don't care if you're new to this. We can totally learn the business together. I actually prefer that over having some suit talk down to me all day. A partner, man," Flash concludes enthusiastically.

Peter remembers how to talk.

"I... we... I haven't said yes!" Peter points out. Flash makes a well, then, go ahead hand gesture. "And I'm not going to! It's, uh, nice, I guess, that you thought of me, so thanks for that. I get that this is a big deal for you and the future of your, uh, endeavors," he throws out, trying to sound professional, "but I'm not the right person to be part of that."

"I thought this might happen," Flash says calmly. "I get it. You're Spider-Man, you're a risk-taker! You get some kind of adrenaline kick between the moment you say no and the moment I ask again, then you get to be relieved. And don't worry," he says for the third time, "I don't think you're playing with me. I suspected this might be how you operate. So here it is for the second time, we're gonna be partners, deal?"

And Flash thrusts out his hand. Peter stares at it.

"What? No, man," he insists. "I don't know how you came up with that explanation, but that's not what I was thinking. At all. I don't know anyone who would do that. The thing is that you and me working together would not be a good match. You're out there, in the public eye. On purpose! I really just want to be left alone for a while, not to be a poster child for TIT. And the Fury angle's a no-go," he adds.

"No, I know that you guys would vibe," Flash pushes. Peter just shakes his head. That isn't even close to what he means. "He's due for a break-in at my place soon and I'm gonna talk you up, Spider-Man, tell him you're even cooler in person. Talk about your, your honesty, your sense of responsibility, all that good shit."

"You really don't need to do that. Just listen to what I'm saying to you," Peter pleads. "I appreciate the offer, I wish you the best, I'm not going to hold a grudge and feel like you owed me something, so all your bases are covered. You came here and did exactly what you planned to do, but plans don't always work out!"

Peter's ready to make his escape now, but Flash speaks before he can leave his chair, let alone the room.

"Ok. Take some time," Flash recommends. "Think about what I said. Then, next time we talk, you can bring all your thoughts to the table when you accept. That's actually better. I know I kind of sprung this on you, but you're right, we should approach this as equals, equally prepared."

"What the fuck are you talking about, man?" Peter asks wildly. "Do you not understand the word 'no'? There can't possibly be a simpler way for me to say that."

Flash smirks, seemingly to himself, as Peter looks on, baffled.

"It's not that I don't believe you, but I think you're being impulsive and I'm doing you a favour by letting you sit with this for a while. Rationally, there's no reason for you to say no. I'm handing you a more secure future than what Stark Industries can offer you, frankly. And if your own father's business can't protect you, how do you know anybody else's ever will? I might be your shot." He sniffs and shrugs, arrogant. "You're smart. You can do the math. That's how I know you'll say yes."

"Yeah," Peter acknowledges, "I am smart, and it's not just intelligence, it's instincts. I'm the kind of smart that wouldn't reject something this hard unless it really felt wrong. If you want to pay me a real compliment, recognize that I have an opinion about this and that it matters even if it's not the same as yours! Thanks again, Flash," he says, fed up, "but I won't be changing my mind. This partnership isn't happening."

He can tell it's finally sinking in for the guy and he hesitates, getting to his feet but lingering by his chair for a moment. Flash looks up at him. Then Peter realizes it's with denial, not acceptance.

"Really keeping me on my toes, Spider-Man. Good to know we'll be on the same side soon. I think I'll talk to your mom about this."

This is just too outrageous. Peter blinks, then walks straight out of the room. Flash is going to talk to his mom? Not if Peter gets to her first. Then Pepper can be the one to shut this guy down, once and for all.


Author's Note:

Everything's coming up Flash! Everything's coming up Flash! We'll see how long he can hang onto his self-deception in the next chapter, which, by the way, will be in one week! If you don't follow me on Tumblr (forasecondtherewedwon) or missed my announcement, I'm switching from updating this story every other week to every week. Woo!

To be continued...