Chapter Ten: Uprooted Part Two

(A/N: this is sort-of, kind-of Peter's POV? I think? – Lucky)

The next few days were a blur of professional-looking men and women in suits in and out of the old Parker home, one that felt empty and cold with only a teen and a cat to occupy it. Plans and meetings for the funeral, the will, and everything else that Peter really didn't want to deal with at that moment or anytime soon.

And there was one last thing he had been avoiding at all costs. Where he was supposed to live.

Since he was underage that meant he had to go somewhere, and in this case, since all his relatives were now… deceased… his options were a group home/orphanage or emancipation. He hadn't even known that New York still had orphanages or group homes. What Peter did know was that emancipation was a practical impossibility with his current financial situation. His family had never been on the well-off side and his job was off-and-on at the best since it depended on how often he went out as Spider-man and if he remembered to set up his camera, or if he set it up in the right place… the point was, J. Jonah Jerk-face was not a reliable source of income. And that man was not one for sympathy.

With Hiro added to the mix, it was even more difficult. Peter was almost positive that pets wouldn't be allowed anywhere, even if he was sent to something like a foster home, though that was right up there with emancipation. He couldn't abandon his only friend, the one that was pretty much the only thing preventing him from losing his sanity. That was a rather sad statement now that he thought about it… that his best friend was a cat. But Hiro was a good friend, the best he'd ever had, as he maintained, and there was no way he was going to be persuaded to give him up or away.

"You aren't going anywhere," Peter whispered with the kit in his lap, imperceptible unless there was somebody in the room with enhanced senses he was unaware of. "Not without me." Maybe it was his imagination, which had been working overtime lately as he tuned out lawyers and bank-people both purposefully and on accident, but the purring seemed to deepen at his words. Hiro snuggled in further to his lap, as if he was just as determined not to lose him.

Peter sighed in contentment and shivered, feeling as if the empty, cold room was trying to suffocate him. The sigh turned into a groan as reality pressed down on his shoulders, he made these promises in his head, only recognizing afterwards that he would have no help with keeping them. He hated promises with a passion. Sometimes Peter heard people make them idly in the hallways at school:

"I promise, I'll call you after practice."

"I'll be on time tomorrow, sir, I promise."

"Of course, I won't text and drive, Mom. I promise."

Then they didn't keep them, and they just turned into empty, meaningless things. Promises meant nothing anymore. The boyfriend forgot to call, and his girlfriend broke up with him. The student was late again and again and ended up failing the class. The teenaged driver couldn't stop texting, crashed their car, and died. Perhaps he was being negative but look how promises turned out for him. Peter's promise to Captain Stacy? Broken, and Gwen was dead. The promise he made once-upon-a-time to keep Gwen's father safe, just to get her to leave and get out of the danger zone? Broken. He died. And even before that, promises made to Aunt May and Uncle Ben… oh, Uncle Ben.

What would he think now? What would he think, seeing Peter useless and sad and just broken after all that he'd been through? He would be disappointed at what Peter had become, the boy was sure. No, not what he had become, but what he was. What Peter was, was a curse. He was a curse on everyone around him, everyone he got close to. The Parker Luck? Ha. No, that was all him.

The Peter Parker Luck.

What was wrong with him?

Everyone died: Uncle Ben, Captain Stacy, Gwen, and now Aunt May. Now what was he doing? Sitting here, feeling sorry for himself. No, that wasn't right.

Peter stood up abruptly, unintentionally knocking Hiro from his lap, not noticing anything much as he shuffled one-by-one up the stairs and to his room, even messier than usual. In the back of his turbulent thoughts, he heard mewing and saw the cat follow in from the corner of his eye, bitterly imagining that he sounded concerned and not believing it for the second it crossed his mind. Too deep in his self-hatred at that moment to accept that someone might care.

Instead, Peter dragged a small duffel out of his closet and stuffed clothes into it, then a quick trip to the bathroom for toiletries, and the items were accompanied by his phone, the charger, his laptop, the other charger, glasses passed down from his father in their case – though the lenses had been replaced by clear glass a while back—and a spare notebook with random writing utensils. The bag was less than full when he was done, and a stray thought reminded him to go and grab Hiro's bowl and the small bag of food they had left.

His addled mind remembered to grab his envelope of photo money before zipping the duffel. Peter grabbed it, his school backpack, along with a wrapped-up travel blanket before unzipping the recently zipped bag and stuffing all remaining space full of water and food. With two rather heavy bags hanging from his shoulders and a travel blanket under one of his arms, he supposed he should feel sort of weighed down. But he almost felt the opposite as Hiro clambered up his luggage and nestled on his head.

This was the perfect solution to his problems. Peter could stay with Hiro. And he wouldn't have to worry about being around anyone, getting close to anyone. Anyone he got close to… no, he wouldn't think that. He'd just stay away. Besides, who was there to get close to when you were living on the streets?

Here's yesterday for me summed up in one really bad song parody (because I am me): It's snow-ing, it's blow-ing, my forget-ful-ness is show-ing!

I have about a dozen legitimate excuses, including the fact that both my phone and computer died, I was sucked into a marathon of Harry Potter movies in the SyFy channel, and I kept getting booted from room to room by first my younger brother and then my dad. And then there's the fact that I actually managed to forget that yesterday was Friday. I am so, SO sorry for not posting! (and to top it off, this one's short! Great job, Lucky...) But back to the real A/N...

Poor Peter! I'm feeling very, very repetitive right now but I feel so bad! Why do I do this to my characters?! (Well, there not exactly mine… [Shut up, me]) Why?! (Because I have to have some character development, besides, what would happen to the storyline? [Again, I say… SHUT UP, ME!] Well, excuse you) Apologies, the internal argument I'm having with myself is not being helpful in the slightest. Well, next chapter is something a bit more fluffy, but I'm not telling what!

Lucky (promises she's not insane and thinks she used "well" far too much in this A/N. Though she would not say she is completely sane… just not fully insane)

;)

To Vladimir Mithrander: Well... sorry to say, but to get to that part, you'll have to be in for the long haul. It's going to take a while for Peter to get it into his head that he's not at fault and everything. I hope this doesn't scare you away, but it'll probably get worse before it gets better and the chapters will most likely be in the thirties before Hiro gets a chance to pound that into him. This tends to be the problem with my stories: they're ridiculously long-winded and take forever. One of the reasons I've never posted them before. Again, I hope you still keep reading and reviewing, I love reading your comments. To the second part of your last review: yep, I'll always take a chance to stick it to Flash! And I'm happy you liked Aunt May's reaction. I really just wasn't sure when I was writing it… I didn't want to be cliché or OOC. Thanks for the feedback!

To Silvermane1: Unfortunately no, mostly because my version of Peter follows no canon, I just snatch bits and pieces of background and shove them together to make this Peter. He doesn't know Mr. Stark yet (and so is still in his [admittedly awesome] homemade suit). I had toyed with that at one point before decided to do this, what you just read above. But don't worry! Tony will have his chance to be a helicopter parent later. ;)