Hi Friends! I hope everyone is doing great this September. Thank you for sticking with this story! I hope you enjoy the newest section.

The subway ride home passed in a blur. The car was crowded but Peter paid no mind to the man arguing with his three children to sit down in their seats or to the group of women that sat huddled at the other end of the car. He didn't even bother putting in ear buds, which was one of the tools he used to survive in public space. The background sound allowed him to concentrate on something other than what was going on around him. A place like the subway, one that was filled with noise and people necessitated space from those external influences. Sometimes the lights would glare or someone would laugh to close to him and his head was left reeling. The music would let him distance himself from those sensations until he was back in a safe place.

That evening none of those distractions could bring him out of his thoughts and by routine alone he made his way back to the apartment. He didn't bother to switch on the lights and as he walked through the rooms the floors creaked under his feet. His clothes were a weird mixture of damp and stiffly dried material and he threw them into the dirt laundry pile; a pile that looked remarkably similar to the clean pile right next to it.

Peter headed to the bathroom that he shared with May. He observed the way her bottles of skincare were stacked, teetering on the ledge behind the sink and how the toilet, sink, and shower were all on top of each other. At least it made cleaning easier.

He studied himself in the mirror, the top of which was milky from water permanently. The only thing saving him from taunts about his protruding ears was the mop of curly hair covering them. His eyes migrated from the peninsulas to his small frame. He was aware of how small he had been as a child but now it was increasingly obvious now that his classmates were going through growth spurts. Peter stared at his naked torso as one would look at a science dissection. The bit of fat was malleable under his fingers and he tried to flex the muscles there but saw no difference. The thirty-day abs challenge seemed like a good idea until he forgot about it until the last week.

He pinched it harder, observing the redness that spread out from his fingers. With a sigh he turned away rubbing the sore spot, and stepped into the shower. His hands shook as he went through his routine faster than normal. He never liked the way their landlord looked at May so he volunteered to go ask about the water problem. He had yet to gather the courage so for now they suffered through a cold shower.

The bed beckoned to him from the doorway but he resisted. Peter paused only to gather a blanket and crept out onto the fire escape. Once the warm cover was situated in the right spot over his shoulder and the corner sat folded in his lap as a perfect rest, he started tinkering with one of his receivers. The message in Morse code came loud and clear. He listened to the dits and dahs, and then transmitted his own message back. The sound of their conversation lulled Peter into a pleasant focus. He only looked up to watch the red colors of the sunset turn to the darkness of the night sky.

Peter quelled the urge to sigh into his hand again. He was sure that school had never been this long before and wished for nothing more than to be on his fire escape taking to Dave from Dayton on his Ham radio. It had been a perfect night. The frequencies were open and strong.

The classroom sat in tense silence while Mrs. Brzozowski waited with the patience of a saint for an answer. She turned to look directly at him with the expression that plainly said, "I know you know the answer", and he felt cajoled into raising his hand. The smile she gave him when he correctly interpreted the meaning of Mary's choice in book made his chest clench and a small smile appear on his face but it quickly faltered when he heard laughter behind him. He knew better than to look a see who laughed. Nothing would come from letting them know he heard and his head remained frozen frontward. The only thing making the day bearable from there on out was the knowledge he was going to the Tower after school.

A bundle of nerves formed in his stomach at the thought of going back. Although he got the confirmation and went through the orientation, the whole experience didn't feel real yet. The seat he sat in at orientation never warmed under him and the building felt too pristine for him to frequent. He resolved himself to work hard and prove that he should be there. If he did that then no one could kick him out.

The bell rang and Peter went through the motions of a school day. The lunchroom doors stood in front of him and he moved to the side to allow the other students to file in. There was an apple in his bag but the thought of eating made him queasy. Instead of entering he followed the hallway down and turned into the bathroom. The seat was cold and the stall was quiet. Peter flushed the empty bowl and then let the water drip on his hands. He avoided looking in the mirror and wandered out of the bathroom.

He could go to the library but it was surprisingly busy during the day. The thought of facing anyone else made his empty stomach flip so he wandered the halls looking for an empty classroom. Somewhere he could relax for a moment before the bustling students took over. His eyes caught the sight of an open door and it was too tempting to pass up. Most of lunchtime was left, Peter was tired, and he didn't want to walk around anymore. His eyes followed his feet dragging across the floor when someone coughed.

His eyes flicked upward as his body froze in place. Peter eased his arms in front of him and he pulled his legs together, aware that he was standing in the middle of the front of the classroom. The boy sat in the middle of the room with books and papers spread around him and Peter remembered they had been in a class together before. The boy's dark hair was straight and hung down to his full cheeks. His eyes were furrowed and Peter wanted to leave before he interrupted even more.

"I'm sorry," He said. "I didn't know anyone was in here. I'll get out of your way."

"Peter, right?" Peter's back tensed as he faced the door. He nodded but stayed where he was. "You can stay here. I only was working on some homework that I didn't get done last night. That is if you want to?"

It was the hesitation in his voice that had Peter looking back and nodding. In slow steps he wound through the desks and took a seat two rows away from the boy. His backpack slouched on his lap and the straps wrinkled between his fingers. Should he talk to him? Or should he just mind his own business?

It turned out that he didn't have to worry about making any decisions.

"I'm Ned. I think we've had a few classes together before." Peter glanced up before studying the grains in the wood.

"Yeah, first term choir with Mr. Netterbocker?" Ned's hand hit the desk and Peter barely suppressed a flinch.

"Dude, I thought he would kill that Sam girl if she chewed gum in class one more time." Sam was someone in their grade who chewed gum everyday without fail to the irritation of their choir director. A smile stole across Peter's face as he looked toward the boy, noticing that he was wearing a Star Wars shirt. He liked Star Wars.

"Sam," Peter mimicked their teacher. "Let the sound out. You can't do that with gum. Now round the O sounds." He blushed when Ned laughed at his poor imitation.

"Exactly! He almost had an aneurysm when she coughed too hard at the concert and spit a piece out onto stage." A giggle bubbled out of him and before he knew it the boys were laughing and pretending to trace the trajectory of the missile. Peter wiped the corner of his eye and smiled at Ned not noticing that the boy had moved a row closer while they talked.

"Not into the lunch room scene today?" Ned asked. The earnest curiosity in his tone compelled Peter to answer at least with part honesty. Peter played with the strap of his backpack.

"You could say that."

"Dude, you don't have to be nice. The freshman suck, Flash especially." Without thinking Peter looked up and stared at Ned who was back to reading the papers in front of him.

"He's not so bad." Peter spoke quietly, afraid to show that he actually kind of liked Flash even though he was a bully, nervous Ned wouldn't like him because he didn't agree. Ned snorted without looking up.

"You're too nice." He wasn't sure how to answer so he stayed silent. His fingers worked against a knot he somehow tied into the straps but it was too tight and he ended up bending his nail.

"Hey Peter." Ned was standing by the door with his stuff put away. Lunch must already be over with. "Congrats by the way. On the contest. That must be so sick. Have you met Stark yet?" Peter hurried to the door while Ned waited.

"Um, yeah, I met him once."

Ned's eyes widened and questions tumbled out of his mouth, asking Peter what happened, what his house was like, and if Mr. Stark was super cool. Peter was overwhelmed but tried to answer in between the continuous inquiries. He wasn't sure he got his thoughts correctly across and he didn't want to gossip. Ned seemed nice enough but Peter felt… protective, for lack of a better word, about the time he spent with Mr. Stark.

On one hand, like the contest, he was sure it was real. He had physical papers and from them a lingering hope seeded in him. On the other hand he still didn't understand what a man like Tony Stark was doing with someone like him. The trails that thought led were dark and overgrown so Peter shook his head. He was surprised to see that Ned continued to walk beside him and was telling Peter all these facts about Iron Man.

They stood at the corner of two hallways. Peter listened while Ned talked, admiring the way his arms moved in tandem with his words and how he didn't have to keep an eye out for any people that passed them. His own eyes followed them until they were out of his line of sight and then he wished he could sense them when they were out of his sight.

The warning bell went off but Peter couldn't bring himself to move. It was the first time he stood idly in the halls talking with someone. Peter felt the blush creep up his cheeks at the thought. He, Peter Parker, was chatting with Ned before class. Ned clapped him on the shoulder saying they should talk again before turning to go to class.

"Hey, Ned." He called before the boy walked out of hearing and Peter scrunched his nose at the one girl who stared at him for being loud. "I, uh, I like your shirt." Ned smiled and waved before turning the corner.

Peter leaned back against the lockers pondering what just happened. All he was looking for was a quiet place to hide and he came across, well, he wasn't quiet sure. He hurried to class barely making it in time but couldn't wipe the smile off of his face for the rest of the day.

The elevator buzzed around him as Peter rested his against the side. He was quiet, thinking about his interaction with Ned, before he remembered his manners.

"Hi Friday! How are you doing today?" He tilted his head up still not entirely sure where to look but figured the effort would be noted.

"I am doing well. Thank you for asking. And how are you doing today?" He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Um," he said thinking about his day. "I'm not running late today, at least."

"Yes, you seem to be perfectly punctual." He hoped it was humor he heard in her voice.

"Are there, um, is anyone else from the program here today?"

It wasn't that he was nervous. At least not yet, but there was this thin feeling permeating his bones. It had been a very long day so far and if there was no one there he could let himself get lost in the project for the afternoon.

"There are two members of the other group here, Peter. If you want I can show you to another lab and…"

"No! I mean, sorry for interrupting, but I don't want to create more work for you. I just was curious." His fingers tightened on the knot he made earlier and stepped off the elevator. "Thank you Friday. I, uh, thanks for talking to me."

"It's my pleasure, Peter." He nodded and then went to find his way.

The doors opened without warning, he reminded himself to try and get used to that, and he saw the two members working at a table in the middle of the room. The two smiled as he passed but went right back to work. He let out a breath he had been holding when he found a table tucked away against one of the windows. The view of New York was one of his favorites and he took a second to appreciate where he was… and why. With his notebook and pen out he started working on his outline.

The hours went by and the next time Peter surfaced he couldn't see the skyline anymore. The room was quiet and he was alone. His papers were scattered around him and he gathered them up, periodically glancing about the room as he did.

While there were never official hours mentioned, he had a feeling that he shouldn't be here. He stuffed the papers into his backpack and made his way toward the exit. The hallway was light brightly compared to the room and Peter swallowed before turning down the hallway. He heard the clicking of shoes and pushed himself against the wall before realizing it wasn't hiding him.

The doors in the hallway were all closed and he would have been even more nervous to wander in one that wasn't meant for him. The clicking came closer and he resumed walking to the elevator, making sure his head was down. The door was open and there were a pair of shoes already present.

He raised his head without making eye contact and wished it were just him and Friday in the small room. The shoes were some type of heel and Peter was in awe of anyone who could walk in them, let alone take the confident strides he heard earlier. He switched his gaze to his own sneakers, noting the way the sides of the shoe spilt over the soles. His toes pressed against the brim but they were his favorite shoes and he didn't want to get rid of them. Still, he couldn't help the flare of shame that clawed its way in him at the comparison between footwear. This was a fancy lady and she shouldn't have to share the elevator with him.

"Long day?" Her voice was solid but smooth and Peter was reminded of May when she was more serious. He glanced up and blushed. Pepper Potts was in the elevator with him.

It was a shock to many when Mr. Stark handed control of his company to her but the profit margins and successes following the transition were proof enough of her expertise. She was a formidable woman and Peter looked up to her almost as much as Mr. Stark.

"H-hi, I mean, hello. I mean, yes it has. Not that it was bad. I mean I got a lot of work done if that's what you're asking but it was long because of school and I'm sorry." His head dropped a fraction while he clenched his hands around the knot. "How-how was your day, Mrs. Potts?"

"Same here. Work was long but it looks like we both had productive days." Peter smiled, keeping his face forward. The elevator seemed to be going slower than normal and Peter wondered if Friday had something to do with it before passing the thought off.

"You can call me Pepper. Mrs. Potts sounds so stuffy. You were in the S.T.A.R.K. contest? The Weaver, right?"

He could have been hit by a train and swept away right there and then. How could he call her by her first name? It might be one of his odd tics but since he was young he always called adults with a title. It was polite and what May and Ben taught him. Not to mention that she remembered him. That could be a good thing but Peter was convinced it was because of his poor performance at the contest. The blush intensified and he nodded.

"Um, It's Peter, Ms. Potts. Yes, I made the synthetic webs."

"That's what it was. I hope you are like it here."

"Everyone has been beyond accommodating." He said hoping that placated the searching stare he could feel on his face.

"Peter?" She asked, her voice softer than before. He looked over and was drawn in by the calming expression in her eyes. For some reason he had the errant thought of the day Ben and May took him to the ocean for the first time. It was overcast and the waves were crowned with white peaks. Peter held no fear in his tiny limbs and he ran straight for the water. As if it knew what Peter was seeking the waves calmed for a moment and let the little boy dip his hands in the water, leaving him room to turn to his watchers and show them the wet digits. Her eyes were the same color of the waves that day and Peter's breathing slowed imperceptibly.

"If you need anything don't hesitate to ask anyone. In fact," she paused to open a portfolio binder and handed him a card. "Here is my number if you ever need anything."

He inspected the card and when he looked up the elevator stopped. Ms. Potts was waiting with her hand stopping the door from closing so he could exit.

"That's, um, thank you." He said backtracking from rejecting the number at her firm look. The lobby was empty and Peter offered to walk her out to her car. He should have known she had a driver waiting for her out front. His fingers curled around the handle as he opened the door for her. She thanked him and complemented his manners, which brought another bout of blush to his face.

"Do you need a ride home, Peter? We can take you."

"No," He said quickly and then continued firmly. "It's okay, Ms. Potts. Thank you though. I can get home just fine. Thank you, again."

She insisted once more but Peter was resolute. They said goodbye and he was left standing on the steps alone. Summer was just around the corner but the spring breeze cut through his thin jacket. He wrapped it around his shoulders tighter before walking down the steps.

At the base of the stairs he turned back to take in the building once more. The structure truly was a marvel and he tried to convince himself he could see the window he looked out of before. He popped his ear buds in and started home. It seemed like a million years since yesterdays subway ride. Peter's eyes were heavy as the car chugged along and he stared out the window with blurry vision watching the people waiting at their own stops. It had indeed been a long day but a small smile traced Peter's face as he thought about it.

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