"As soon as they entered the copse, Lady Catherine began in the following manner: 'You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my journey hither.'" - Pride and Prejudice, ch. 56
"I'll just see what he wants."
Peter mumbles the words to his dad and sister, but keeps his gaze fixed on Fury's. He grabs his sweatshirt off the back of the couch, where he tossed it earlier while his family was watching the movie, and shrugs it on quickly before leading their unexpected and so far unwelcome guest back the way he came in. He hesitates at the front door and glances at Fury. While it doesn't set off any warnings for Peter, the man's expression is deadly serious.
"After you," Fury says, leaving Peter feeling like his words were stolen as he precedes their―no, his―visitor outside.
Evidently undeterred by the waning light and thick fog spilled over the grounds, Fury strides across the drive onto the lawn with a single flap of his coat. The whole thing is freaky and vampiric, in Peter's opinion, and yet he follows, side-eyeing the darkly tinted windows of the black SUV parked out front. Is Maria Hill in there? At least he knows his dad's inside watching him on a monitor. Peter isn't alone and he's definitely not defenceless against a physical attack. The problem is that he doubts that's what this confrontation is going to be. Fury's way too smart to try to take Peter on alone, even if he had a reason to. But hey, maybe he does. Peter doesn't have a fucking clue why he came at all, so he's not totally comfortable (far from it) despite his certainty that he could kick this guy's ass hand-to-hand. The one thing he knows to do when he has no idea what to do is let the other person talk first; Peter keeps his mouth clamped shut as Fury allows him to fall into step at his side.
"Let's not bullshit each other."
"Huh?" is Peter's intelligent response.
"Tony's strength might be winging it once it's too late to plan ahead―there's a reason you were the Avengers rather than the Pre-vengers―but Pepper has good foresight. Splitting the difference, I figure you had to know I would be stopping by, even if you didn't know when."
"I did?"
"Maybe your father hasn't told you enough about how I operate," Fury suggests as Peter attempts to retract his frown of confusion into an underdeveloped poker face. "Delegating's fine, but I still prefer to deal with certain matters in person and, trust me, I've had to travel much farther to handle a situation than Upstate."
"Uh huh."
Fury comes to a halt and fixes him with a look, by now likely understanding that Peter's not playing coy, feigning innocence, like his dad would do. He genuinely doesn't have a fucking clue what's going on.
"You know why I'm here," the man states, and yet, it is a question.
"Not... exactly." The look doesn't waver. Peter swallows. "Or at all," he admits, just so they can move past the part where Fury's staring at him like he's mentally dismantling his brain and reforming it into a hamburger patty.
"I hope you're not fucking with me." The tone is plenty threatening and makes Peter hope he's not fucking with him either. "I would be extremely disappointed to find that you're interested in wasting my time. I assure you, I won't be wasting yours."
Fury stares at him and Peter says nothing to stop him from continuing. The cool dampness of the fog makes him want to wipe the exposed back of his neck, but he keeps still.
"I heard a story about you," the man says. His eye flashes. "I didn't particularly like it."
"Are there still Spider-Man rumours on the internet?" Peter asks weakly. "I'm almost flattered they're still talking about me."
Fury ignores his joke entirely.
"Not only is Vision partnering with Wanda Maximoff, who I'm still eager to recruit, but I hear that you are also romantically connected to someone I have a singular interest in." When Peter's eyebrows pull together in confusion, Fury spells it out: "Carol's niece, Michelle Jones."
His eyebrows drift up and apart.
"Michelle?"
Her name's enough to make his heart slam on the brakes, then start up again twice as fast.
"See, that's the face I made when I heard." (Peter seriously doubts that.) "Doesn't seem likely, I know. Intelligent young woman like her pairing up with you, the ex-superhero, determined to go nowhere even when I hand you a shot at getting back in the game."
Fury shakes his head disapprovingly.
"Just because I'm not going your way doesn't mean I'm going nowhere," Peter argues, finally finding a place in this discussion where he can dig his feet in. It's the beginning of a stand. He can't refute the rest though, the implication that Michelle's worthy of more than he can give.
"You going somewhere? From what I can see, the only place you've gone is back to Mom and Dad. Easy, Stark," Fury adds, glancing warily to the side like he knows that last comment earned him crosshairs on his forehead from a concealed weapon.
"Ok, well, if it's so obvious that Michelle's too good for me, then why are you here asking me about it?"
"I want you to tell me I heard wrong."
"I'm pretty sure you have the resources to get to the bottom of it yourself," Peter reasons, growing punchier and more sarcastic as Fury leans into the role of intimidator. "Where the hell'd you hear she and I were together anyway?"
"You seem confused," Fury says. It's the kind of thing enforcers say in old movies, Peter assesses, right before they start trying to aid their target's memory with a few blows to the head. "Don't try to tell me that rumour didn't start right here."
"That I'm dating Michelle Jones? Why would I start a rumour about that? If it were true, I wouldn't sneak around."
"Ah," the man says quickly, as though he's caught Peter somehow. "You would if you considered that I'd hear about it. If you were trying to keep the relationship secret."
"Now I'm in a secret relationship? Pretty fucking secret. Even I didn't know about it."
The intensity of Fury's expression eases. Must've heard something he liked.
"So the rumour's groundless," he asserts. He's always doing that and it bugs the heck outta Peter. What is this guy, allergic to questions? Everything's such a fucking game.
"Well, I haven't ordered a whole secret team to investigate it 'til the trail goes cold," Peter jokes, "so I don't know if my final answer counts for as much as yours."
"Don't fuck around with me," Fury warns, abruptly irate, pitch rising threateningly as he looms over him. Peter crosses his arm and holds his position. "Are you or are you not conducting a relationship with my niece?"
"She's not your niece, man," he counters in a hard voice. He does not like where this is going at all. "And no matter how close you think the two of you are, I guarantee it's not close enough that Michelle's ok with you trying to gatekeep her relationships."
"Don't change the subject."
"Michelle is the subject, but I'm happy to stop talking about her whenever you want. I don't think it's right to do that behind her back. She's not an object for you to control, she's an adult."
"I'm aware," Fury says, clearly annoyed.
"Oh, so you're being deliberately anti-feminist."
"I'm not controlling Michelle, I'm protecting her. I don't want her connected to you. It's not safe for her. Half in the world of what I do and half out. You're too well-known to fly under the radar, but not equipped to shield her from the dangers of being tied to you. You have no idea the kind of intergalactic bullshit Carol faces out there, what we all face, since Thanos." All of a sudden, he seems to recognize that he's ranting and braces his fists on his hips, glowering at Peter. "Answer me, goddammit! Are you in a romantic relationship with Michelle Jones or are you not?"
"According to you, she'd never take me," Peter says with a laugh. He doesn't know how he manages it.
"I know she wouldn't! Still, the two of you lived in some proximity when she was up here with Wanda. As you pointed out, Michelle's an adult and I'm sure there isn't a large selection of people her age in the neighbourhood. When I acknowledge that she may have picked you, I believe it would have been the consequence of a lack of choice. And, I suppose, there's the novelty of you being a former Avenger. That could be sufficient to induce her into getting involved with you, while your family's fame might be enough to make her agree to keep the whole thing quiet."
"So you think I'm a dick."
Fury jerks his head back like Peter tapped him one on the chin.
"Do you have any idea who you're dealing with? What I've done for this country and this planet? I've devoted my life to protecting it. I might not care about every asshole, but there are a few lives I have a personal stake in and Michelle Jones's is one of them."
"Mine's not." Peter shakes his head to emphasize this. "And I'm glad. I wouldn't want you feeling any more entitled to what I know and who I am than you obviously already do."
"It's not smart for you to not be direct with me. You have more to lose than that attitude tells me you think you do."
"Not Michelle though, right? You've made it super clear that she's not mine to have, so she must not be mine to lose either. You'd have to contradict yourself to think otherwise, wouldn't you?" Peter goads.
For the first time, Fury looks away across the hazy stretch of property.
"Do you know," he asks, "what happened to Michelle's parents?"
"Yes."
Though he wasn't there, never saw anything like it since he was rematerializing at the same time as the rest of the half-universe at the moment of the Second Snap, Peter finds it so brutally easy to picture the people who made Michelle returning to existence in midair, the plane they'd been travelling on vanished from around them, plummeted five years before. Leaving them to a long fall and the knowledge that only death waited at the bottom.
"And do you think," Fury continues, "that if the Joneses knew how Michelle carries the pain of that day, that Event, that they would want her to be with someone who can only ever worsen that pain by reminding her of it? Someone who was involved?" he presses.
Peter tenses.
"Don't."
"Someone whose job it was to help prevent that tragedy, but who could only ever try to avenge it after the fact?"
"You sonofabitch," Peter mutters, fast and hot as his eyes burn.
"Hey, I'm just stating fact. You think it's unreasonable to assume Michelle's parents would want better for her?"
"I think it's sick for you to put your agenda on them," he counters, throat tight. "You're so obsessed with me knowing who you are. Well, who the hell are you to decide what a dead couple would want for their daughter? That's Michelle's question to answer, if she wants. It's definitely not yours. Maybe you've kept an eye on her, helped her out when you could, been buddies with her aunt and counted it as indirect guardianship. Pat yourself on the back for whatever you think you've done and let Michelle take it from here. Let her be. And if I'm the person she wants," Peter says, throwing his arms wide, bearing himself to the universe, "let her be with me."
"Cute. But nowhere near good enough."
"It might be, to her."
"You should understand that I don't go anywhere unless I intend to get results," Fury states.
Something more powerful than rage and more certain than his visitor's entitlement flares up in Peter. He's not gonna let this guy push him around, doesn't care what or who he was the director of. Peter has his home at his back and his blood's coursing through a body that's still made up of some of the cells he reformed as when the Second Snap brought him back. He is no one's inferior.
"And I don't let people push me around in my own neighbourhood."
"I'll do what I have to do to get the truth. Tell me what you and Michelle are to each other."
It's an order, no hint of a question, even in the subtext. Peter snorts, not intending to answer. But then something down deep in him urges him to speak. An entrenched imperative to tell the truth because it's what he owes to himself.
"Nothing," he says.
"All this dicking around for that." Fury's disappointment is as mocking as his stern voice seems able to allow. "The only further effort I require from you is something you should find easy to provide: tell me you'll never pursue a relationship with my niece, and make me believe it."
Still bent on being truthful, Peter sizes up this man with the enigmatic eye patch, the Victor Frankenstein coat, who somehow thinks he's won, thinks he's taken something from Peter. He looks him square in the eye and tells him, "Get fucked."
"Excuse me?"
"I didn't put you in charge of my powers and I'm not putting you in charge of my happiness. Anything that happens between me and Michelle is between me and Michelle. You wanna hear something I learned about business? Involving a third party fucks everything up. A middleman's supposed to promote the interests of the other two players, and that never happens. Instead you get family companies tricked out of majority ownership and 'concerned uncles,'" he says with expressive air quotes, "disenfranchising the nieces they claim they're protecting. You can't make Michelle safe just by stopping her from being with me. You can't deny her things and expect that kinda treatment to make her happy. The only thing you've convinced me of is that you're a jerk. You thought you could intimidate me? You don't know me, you don't know Michelle, and maybe I don't know her either, not completely, but I know the only thing you did by showing up on my doorstep was let her down."
"Maybe your family used to be worthy of somebody like her, but you're not now," Fury says scornfully, beginning to storm away towards the compound, where his SUV is parked.
"Well," Peter says, finding it's easy to match his guest's pace, that his legs are strong and his shoes capable of finding a grip on the ground that the wet grass shouldn't allow, "it looks like Michelle's family isn't perfect either."
"Don't think for a minute that you could offer her a better one. There's still a fight out there and you've retreated."
"I'm not offering her anything, because she isn't asking me for anything. The only person I can stand here and promise not to give anything up to is you," he concludes in a huff as they reach the dark vehicle and Fury wrenches open the driver's side door.
"You'd only put her in danger," he growls, one foot planted in the SUV.
"Not her independence," Peter shoots back. "Not her opportunity to speak for herself, about herself. And if Michelle ever wants to test that, I'd be honoured."
It's more than he means to say, but when it's enough to finally make Fury heave himself angrily into the vehicle and slam the door, Peter's relieved. His guest wheels out in an arc sufficiently wide to avoid hitting Peter as he walks to the compound's front door, and to demonstrate that he has a strong sense of self-preservation; if Fury so much as clipped Peter's arm with one of his mirrors, the Starks would've had something to say about it. And should he happen to glance in his rearview mirror, the director will spot Peter bidding him goodbye with a middle finger held high. What's invisible is the way it makes Peter feel like he's channeling Michelle Jones.
"You gonna tell me what that was about?" his dad asks the second he's through the front door.
Peter smirks to himself, oddly triumphant. It's been years since he put everything on the line like that. Last time, he didn't get to walk away from it. He feels pretty damn invincible for a boy who was once Snapped into a billion little pieces.
"I know you recorded the whole thing. Guess you'll have to listen to the audio."
The surge of self-assurance fades. It happens while his family's finishing the movie they started before Fury showed up. (Morgan protested being sent to bed, so everybody reconvened in the living room.) By the time the credits roll, Peter's anxious and no longer enjoying himself, though Pepper forbad Morgan from asking him about what happened with 'Dad's boss' (Tony's mad at Nebula for starting that), so nobody else has questioned him directly. Peter can sense their curiosity though and volunteers to clean up the drinks and snacks, just for an excuse to be alone in the kitchen.
After inquiring about Peter for years, keen to see if Spider-Man would ask 'how high' when ordered to jump, Fury finally cornered him in person. But it was about a secret relationship rather than a secret mission. The man actually drove that far to interfere in Michelle's love life. Recognizing that, it sounds pretty stupid to Peter, and yet it was a solemn encounter. Fury clearly believed whatever he'd heard and thought he was setting out to do damage control on a situation already out of hand. It's crazy! Man, Harley thought it was bad when his family intervened to make sure he didn't sink the company. Imagine if he had Fury for an uncle instead of Happy, Peter thinks. Where would Fury get an idea like that, that Peter and Michelle were sneaking around together? So few people even know they like each other! Ok, there's Peter's aunt and uncle, but they aren't gossipy. There's Monica, who Peter's sure is too mature, not to mention too busy, to spread rumours about her cousin. Of course, he remembers that Wanda was there too, in Vermont, when he and Michelle were really starting to get each other―he thought―and Wanda has since gotten together with Peter's brother. That's the kind of thing that probably shows up on a guy like Fury's radar. An Avenger and an enhanced woman who Fury admitted to keeping tabs on. Maybe the facts that Peter is Vision's brother and Michelle is Wanda's best friend were enough to put the idea in Fury's head, or the head of someone close to him (like Flash, because if he heard anything, he'd blow it out of proportion). Fury's a naturally suspicious man, Peter can tell. Could be that he just got carried away and the next thing Peter knows, he's having it out with this guy on the front lawn, being all vague and shady on purpose to defend even the idea of a relationship between him and Michelle. Being a hopeless idiot, because what's incredibly obvious is that Fury going all 'you shall not pass' has gotta be the final confirmation that he and Michelle are not going to happen. The last nail in the coffin; R.I.P. the relationship that never fucking was.
It's silly, but Peter did think, a little bit, that Vision moving in with Wanda would give him an excuse to see Michelle again. He'd do something too obvious, swinging by when he knew she was staying at the Park and pretending he hadn't known. From the first time she'd meet his eyes, Peter would be a wreck and everybody would be able to see it, his heart pumping blood on his sleeve. He pictured the autumn and Michelle getting sick, coming to the Park to convalesce―where he'd take her homemade soup and say it was from Nebula. He fantasized about a monstrous winter snowstorm while Michelle spent Christmas with Wanda, Peter being neighbourly about helping dig out their driveway, how she'd squint over the glare of the snow and smile at him when he shoveled up to the front door. But they were ridiculous thoughts. Like... like some kid thinking he could grow up to be Spider-Man.
As he dumps unpopped popcorn kernels and swishes the bottom of glasses under the faucet, Peter wonders what happens if Fury decides their debate isn't over. Peter didn't exactly bow down to his authority. Anyway, the resolution to keep Michelle away from anybody who isn't either harmless or fully under Fury's surveillance didn't seem recent. It stands independent of Peter wanting or needing or existing. Peter doubts Michelle knows what Fury's doing behind her back, but he bets that she'd stop him. This feels too insane to tip her off about though. The whole thing has become so specific to him, with Fury demanding compliance and laying down some very personal judgements about the worthiness of Peter and his family. What he's doing is actually making Peter more involved.
Maybe Fury will surprise him and confront Michelle himself. He might weigh her feelings of betrayal against his need to firmly shove Peter out of the picture and figure it's worth risking. Peter's sure the man's entitled manner won't win him points, but he has so much other shit to leverage. Really, what more would it take to convince Michelle that Peter's not the one for her than reminding her of his family's role in the death of her parents? That's already a fraught subject. He knows that from what she told him firsthand. Fury has to use the argument that targets her where she's most vulnerable. Peter really doesn't think he's above that kind of shit. Probably wouldn't even realize he behaves the same way towards his friends as he does to his enemies, keeping track of their weaknesses to influence them towards the result he deems best.
If Fury goes to Michelle, he'll either convince her or drive her away from both himself and Peter. Either way, there won't be soup in the fall or their footprints side by side in the snow. Michelle will avoid the Park and Peter will really, finally not see her face anymore. Which is when Peter will really, finally have to get over her.
Senses sharp (and continuing to sharpen as he forces himself to concentrate on something that isn't the likely near-future imperative to get over Michelle Jones), it's easy to overhear what his family's saying in the living room. Now that Peter's out of the room, they're talking about Fury, which makes sense. He knows the distance between the man and his dad is something Tony's cultivated. Nobody expected such an abrupt interruption.
Peter hangs out in the kitchen, listening to Vision say his goodnights, then Morgan consenting to finally go to bed. Their dad's the one who's taking her, but she doesn't give in until Nebula agrees to come up and keep her company until she falls asleep. It's easy to wheedle that kind of thing out of Nebula, for Morgan. If Morgan's wrapping up fifth grade, then Nebula's still somewhere near the beginning in her continuing studies on how to be a sister. So far, so good. When he can tell it's only his mom left downstairs and figures she's probably waiting for him, Peter sighs and emerges from the kitchen.
"I checked my email after I took Morgan upstairs earlier," Pepper begins, twisting on the couch to watch Peter enter the room. She has the TV on, muted.
"And, what, it was only the twenty-sixth time you checked today?" Peter jokes. He grabs the back of the couch and bounds over it to bounce into place next to his mom. He kicks his feet up onto the coffee table.
"You sound like Harley."
"Ugh, really?" he groans. But his mom's voice is fond.
"I talked to him over the phone this afternoon. He thinks I shouldn't work so much." Pepper turns her head to give Peter a soft you know me smile.
"Lately, that's his fault."
His mom shifts on the couch, looking thoughtful.
"I think it's his way of feeling guilty for that, telling me to slow down."
"Slow down," Peter snorts. "What're you gonna do if you slow down? Retire?"
"Well."
He frowns and studies his mom's expression. She's never been as careful with it as his dad is. Peter's not sure if she's better at vulnerability or just has less to conceal.
"Do you want that?" he asks her.
"Kind of. I like being busy, especially when your dad gets fixated on something and starts stressing me out." She smiles. "But what I really want is for you guys to be happy."
Peter knows she means him and his siblings.
"We're doing good right now," he says, reflecting.
"That's what makes retiring actually seem possible. I won't have anything to worry about."
"You won't worry about us?"
"Hey," his mom says, tapping him under the chin with a finger. "I'll always worry about you. You know what I meant. Aha, which brings me to the email."
"Right. The email. It wasn't from, uh, Fury, was it? Like, warning us he was coming?"
"Don't be silly. If Fury warned us he was coming, it would take all the drama out of his arrival, and I think that's what he likes."
"Seems like it," Peter agrees, resting his cheek against the back of the couch. "Who was it from then?"
Pepper gives him a look that might be a warning for what's to come.
"Flash Thompson."
"What the hel- heck does that guy want?"
"He wants to talk about you, apparently."
"Me?"
Peter's face feels like it's going numb. Is Fury trying to get him away from Michelle by having Flash offer him another job in NYC? Did the two of them put their heads together and come up with a certain number of Flash's videos that Peter will have to 'voluntarily' feature in before Fury decides Peter no longer owes him anything? Peter's mistake is thinking that Flash would be given instructions without a reason for them. Of course not. Because why wouldn't Fury let Flash run wild believing that stupid rumour about a secret relationship? Stupid rumours about superheroes are Flash's bread and butter.
"Are you alright? All the colour just rushed right out of your face."
"Fine," Peter says. He nods. "What'd Flash say?"
"Well, I'll spare you the abundance of hashtags and get right to the meat of it. There were lines about you being well-connected and how he shouldn't have been surprised that Spider-Man has friends in high places. Then, he essentially drooled over this new closeness he's expecting you to have with Fury. 'Practically family,' I think Flash wrote." His mom gives him a probing look; Peter's sitting stiffly. "After that, he turned right around and warned you against it. Said he could understand the draw but that Fury doesn't exactly approve. Does any of that mean anything to you?"
"Maybe," he mumbles.
"I don't know why Flash thought I knew what he was talking about, but he did eventually spell it out: that you've been hooking up with Fury's... niece? Did Flash call her his niece?... behind Fury's back. Michelle! Can you believe that?"
Peter jumps when Pepper's hand lands on her leg with a smack.
"Where in the world would he have gotten that idea?" she asks, clearly meaning the question to be rhetorical. "I just... For me, this is coming out of nowhere. Right? How did he come up with putting the two of you together? All you and Michelle ever did was butt heads when you talked, and she seemed more interested in talking about you than to you. 'Daddy's money.' Remember that?"
"Uh huh."
"Isn't this bizarre? Maybe I should retire and hand management over to Flash, let him run Stark Industries now that we've split off with these new ventures, since he obviously has too much time on his hands." Pepper laughs to herself. "So strange."
"So, that's... that's the main thing he emailed about? Me and Michelle?"
His mom shrugs and rolls her eyes.
"There was some other stuff. Naturally, he's nosy about the partnership with LATE and scared that the hastiness of that deal will somehow reflect badly on him, the de facto head of SI. Flash had plenty of advice to offer me on how to handle things."
Peter shakes his head at the audacity of somebody trying to tell his mom how to run the company. Flash is in for a rude awakening when the Starks step back from Stark Industries.
"Idiot," he offers, no real judgement in his voice.
"I don't know how someone whose job is ostensibly to observe the world around him could think he was passing on accurate information. And why gossip to me about it?"
"Maybe Flash thinks you're in charge of me. That I needed your permission, or something. He probably thinks you can put a stop to this sneaking around thing by, you know, forbidding it."
His mom makes an unimpressed humming noise.
"He paints an interesting picture of me," she says dryly. "The controlling mother to a son carrying on a secret romance with a young woman he doesn't even like, and who only saw him as some kind of Richie Rich caricature. Maybe Fury'll tell Flash he was here. That should provide lots of fuel for that imagination of his. He'll probably think Fury beat me to it with forbidding your relationship." Abruptly, she laughs. "Well, Flash's emails keep me entertained."
His mom's ready to get some sleep. Peter walks upstairs with her, says goodnight, and goes to his room, but he isn't tired. He lies on top of the blankets, fully clothed, and listens to himself breathe while he stares at the ceiling. Three hours go by like that, with him paralyzed by his thoughts. At first, he just marvels at how close to the mark his mom manages to be when she's not even in the loop―guessing exactly why Fury came, though she was kidding. Thank Thor she didn't ask Peter what he thought of her theory. He couldn't have lied to her. Besides blurting out the truth, he probably also would've revealed how hurt he was by her easy assumptions. He felt like his mom was yanking the web out from under him when she casually told him he's nothing but a caricature to Michelle, somebody to be scorned and forgotten about. The irony is that Pepper was clearly trying to make Peter feel better about it, to make him laugh at Flash's email. Instead, she pressed the most sensitive part of him and, like a fresh bruise, it's aching in the aftermath.
Is that all he's ever been to Michelle? Peter's disoriented. He's devoted serious time to persuading himself that it's been him these past few months. Him who's the problem. That he's the one who needs to come around to Michelle, all the time believing―though he mostly lied to himself―that she might somehow still be considering him. What if she never felt any of that? Maybe her feelings for him dropped sharply off the minute he rejected her in Tribeca. Maybe all of this means way, way less to her than he thought and he's been constructing these fantasies, soupy daydreams, and putting too much meaning into every time they happen to catch each other's eye. This must be what a crisis feels like; Peter's heart is pounding. Can he really not tell the difference between someone who's in love with him and someone who's just in the same room? God!
Frustrated, restless, and confused, Peter bolts up from bed and digs through the depths of a desk drawer he never opens. His fingers brush metal and, roughly, he secures his web-shooters around his wrists. With light, swift steps, he heads for the front door. On the way, he tells FRIDAY not to wake anybody up with alerts. The rest of his family doesn't need to freak out just because he is.
Peter scales the compound with his hands and feet. Though the web-shooters clang against the side of the building as he climbs, the loose sleeves of his sweatshirt sliding up, he doesn't resort to using them. He can do this. He could do it before he ever created his first version of web fluid and he can sure as hell do it now. They're an accessory, like the suit. With those things stripped away, Peter knows himself better. He's confident in his movements and the belief that one of his hands would be enough to prevent a deadly fall. Though his fingers are straining. Though the compound's slick with moisture from the fog. He doesn't give a fuck. He climbs above it, up and out of the damp, until he's hauling himself onto the roof, taking loud, heaving breaths as he looks around at the darkness. Not total darkness; Peter lets his head hang back and takes in the stars overhead.
"I LOVE HER!" he yells, straight up.
The universe doesn't give him anything back, no cosmic echo or winking constellation or prophetic comet. After a minute, he huffs and looks back down, hands on his hips. Well.
It's simple, when he accepts that there's no answer waiting for him up here, to spend a couple hours at the peak of the highest elevation around. The chill isn't enough to bother him. Peter wanders the roof and discovers a forgotten Frisbee. It's been missing so long that he can't remember who threw it this high or when. With a flick, he sends it sailing over the yard. It glides to the grass in the dark, but his sight is powerful enough to see it. Maybe Morgan will find it and play with Happy the dog the next time their aunt and uncle visit. Maybe their parents should just get her a dog. She could name it Harley, to piss off their brother. She'd like that. Nice, normal childhood thing. Peter sits at the edge of the roof and looks up again. Space is so big. It's wild, he thinks, how it kinda seems close from here, though the stars are obviously tiny, but when he was up there, home felt very far away. It's all perspective.
He can see well in the dark and judge precisely when the darkness begins to fade. Could be that subtle lightening along the horizon that wakes Peter from the deep doze of his thoughts, or his Spidey sense, or only a feeling he can't classify as either human or enhanced. The moon's still high as his eyes follow the road, disjointed in the fog that's waiting for the sun to evaporate, and fix on a shape. Dark on dark, just a shadow moving across the shaded landscape. On alert, Peter stands.
Author's Note:
Next chapter's a long one, as they deserve.
To be continued...