Enjoy :)

"We come to you live, this morning, from the new Oscorp building here in New York City. Joining us now is the man himself. Would you like to say a few words, Mr. Osborn? Why a new building? What's its purpose?"

Mr. Osborn walked toward the camera, blocking the news anchor from frame. He smiled without blinking; seemed gaze straight into the viewers' eyes while gathering his thoughts. Peter couldn't help but shiver.

"Oscorp is at an exciting stage of expansion. Our new projects, headed by some very talented young people, deserved more space and more funding. When you think of brilliance I want you to think Oscorp. You will think of the brilliant future. And you will think of power. This building is just one of the first stages of that future."

Mr. Osborn's lips curled into another smile. The news anchor cleared their throat and, after holding the smile for a second longer, Mr. Osborn stepped back. They shook hands before moving onto the next segment.

The whole interview was over in less than five minutes. It was completely normal but still it was … unsettling. There was something in the way Osborn said the word power. The slight pause, no longer than a breath but holding a weighted touch, before saying the word slow and strong. Power was what he wanted. It didn't matter the cost to a man like that. Something as insignificant as stealing a child's idea or intimidating those around you. All for the sake of a 'brilliant future,' for the sake of power. What other acts had the man done in name of those ideals? What was he willing to do next?

Peter's spine was stiff. Tension coiled in his muscles keeping him still. Anger surged in him for a moment. The back of his throat itched and all he wanted to do was throw the phone at the nearest wall. Instead, he took a breath, pulled the headphone from his ear, and handed Flash's phone back to him.

He couldn't do anything. The sentiment earlier had been a lifeline, a fact. Now, he was starting to hate it.

"If you would just listen to us, Peter." Flash said.

"I thought I said no."

"You said it months ago but we all thought that, if we gave you space-"

"Which we did." Julia interrupted.

"-that you would come back to the logical choice. It's called copyright laws… or something like that." Julia crossed her arms in front of her chest as she stared at Flash. A hint of amusement hidden under the exasperation. "Well, I'm pretty sure that's not the legal word for it but he's got the right idea."

Peter shrugged. His fingers played with the napkin in front of him, folding and unfolding it while Flash and Julia bickered over what they wanted. It made something warm in his chest to know that still, after all this time, his friends were trying to help.

He watched as Flash scooted closer to Julia as she began pouring over their notes. Their foreheads were almost touching, though their voices were loud enough for the table behind them to hear.

The napkin ripped at the edges. He balled it up and stuffed it under his thigh. They were friends. His friends. Two years ago, it would've seemed like an impossibility to be sitting here across from these two people.

Julia was writing something down, fast and neat like always. Her eyes are almost crossed with how hard she's concentrating. Flash sat next to her. Although he was leaning away, his lips are thinned in concentration and he kept asking questions to her, clarifying and adding ideas to their ever-growing notes.

These two people, one a former bully, and the other a stranger only a few months ago were his friends. A strong support system. He could remember the tears of Flash's face on that stairwell, the way he had screamed at Peter, antagonizing him every step of the way, when he was also in pain. It seemed like he had so many friends; was popular at Midtown. But Peter realized they were similar in some ways. Whereas Peter was alone in his pain, Flash was surrounded. He was mean and hurtful to gain their conditional acceptance. Peter can only imagine how isolating that would be both from the others and yourself. Now here Flash was, working outside school to help Peter.

Julia's friendship was no less surprising, yet sweeter all the same. Her hesitant, introverted nature at the beginning was all to similar to how he felt. She was withheld but never curt. Her eagerness endeared her to their whole team in a short time. Julia was also more than that. She didn't need to overcome any of those traits to be a strong person like Peter thought. Like what people always told Peter. (Smile more, speak louder, be more) Those words followed him around until they didn't hurt anymore.

Julia surely faced similar sentiments but it felt like she never took them to heart. Instead, she used them to her strengths. Their team was silently bolstered by her calm confidence. The tense atmosphere between Frank and Monica turned into nothing more than a minor blip in their project because Julia talked to both of them, encouraged them and worked to appease both with compromise.

It was the quiet moments with Julia. The snacks she brought with her to share, the sincere way she communicated, and above all just the effervescent care for everyone around her.

Here they were sitting across from him, trying to convince him to fight for himself. How could they want to help him after everything? This wasn't even the first plan they had come up with, just the most recent. Every time he could see this gleam in their eyes, hesitant but stubborn. Every time he shot them down the hesitation receded but the stubbornness grew.

Peter sighed and wondered if his eyes were as weighed down as he felt.

"Look, it just doesn't matter."

It's dangerous.

Mr. Stark said that.

The gleam in Mr. Osborn's eyes only held the promise of that.

For a moment, Peter allowed himself to think of the Tower. What would Friday or Mr. Stark do? How would they proceed? The team of lawyers on call would certainly help. He would like to think that there would be indignation and vitriol. He wanted to hear their words of comfort.

And if that wasn't just the most ungrateful thought he'd ever had.

Peter clenched his hands.

None of it mattered. Why didn't they understand? He didn't want anyone to get hurt. He, the rabbit's cries echoed in his mind, had to prevent anything from happening. If that meant not getting involved then that's what he would insist on. Peter was serious but none of his friends understood.

Their reunions happened about once a month, schedules permitting. Frank couldn't make most of them, though Zoom had turned into a life saver. Monica was as busy as ever but her time management skills allowed for her presence more often. This week it was just their trio.

The two of them continued to talk. Peter pulled the napkin from under his thigh and resumed folding it along the frayed lines. Their words floated over him and he was almost tempted to leave instead of bearing their disappointed faces.

This meeting started off nice, normal. Flash ordered a flat white while Julia got an iced black coffee. Peter, who still had nightmares about Cindy, ordered tea. Monica didn't answer their call so they settled in the corner and began talking about school and some new exhibit at the Hive.

It was quiet but normal. Peter appreciated them.

He assumed they would leave it alone until Flash took out the notebook. Peter balled napkin up and threw it into his empty cup. A brief flare of some ugly bitterness bubbled up into his throat.

"So, are you dating now?"

He wanted to take it back the moment he said it – the way he said it. They stared at him with mimicked wide-eyed and jaw dropped expressions. Their eyes darted from him to the side at each other. Flash scooted away from Julia, Peter noticed.

Why had he said anything?

"Peter!" Julia said, leaning forward over the table.

"I'm, I'm sorry! I just… I didn't mean… Of course, it's okay if you are or aren't and I shouldn't have pried into your business. It was rude and I'm…"

"Sorry, we know." Flash said in a curt tone. He sighed. "It's okay, though. You're our friend, right?"

Peter nodded. His frustration gone with the hastily spoken words. All he wanted to do was direct the attention off of himself; to talk about something normal for once. Maybe subconsciously all he wanted to do was make someone else as uncomfortable as he was. The thought made the back of his throat itch. May would be disappointed.

"It's really none of my business." He said again noticing how Julia couldn't bring herself to look up from their notes.

"It's okay, we just haven't talked about it yet."

Peter nodded, watching the way his friends' eyes met for a moment. How they lingered and Flash, moved back to his original spot in subtle, slow movements.

Peter saw those looks or something similar on people in the older grades. The slight gleam someone can light in another person's eye. He can't remember if his parents had it but he knows that May and Ben each held a sparkle for the other. A precious feeling, Ben told him.

He'd never thought about dating before. The small interactions with other people in his life were enough of a worry that adding love into the mixture seemed like a bad combination. It never really occurred to him he wasn't experiencing things like the others around him. Mike and Midge had talked about their crushes before, Ned had too at one point, and Peter just listened.

Flash broke the silence that followed.

"Monica and Estee are official though. Monica said that's one of the reasons she's not here today. Estee's visiting her campus."

"That's just lovely." Julia said while Peter nodded.

Contrary their tension filled meeting, Monica and Estee had connected instantly. The way they leaned into each other at the beach spoke at how close they were.

One positive thing came of that day, Peter thought. One good memory that Estee and Monica, really their whole group could hang onto.

The rest of their lunch was filled with lighter subjects. Peter continued to reprimand himself, and ignore the flush to his cheeks, but the stories of baby Al and his newfound love for Julia left smiles on everyone's faces.

"He's a mini-me, I swear; likes to tinker away with all of my stuff. It's annoying sometimes but then he stares at me with those baby eyes and I can't say no."

The subway hummed around him but the voices of the other passengers were muffled by his earbuds. He pulled his sleeves down over his hands, rolling the fabric between his fingers.

Despite his various refusals, his friends hadn't stopped digging into the Oscorp incident. Over the course of the summer, their attempts had become more complex. They couldn't forget, they said. And in contrast to what Peter kept saying, he couldn't forget either.

Months of work, hypothesizing and testing mixtures and compounds only to redo everything once again. All to make sure the formula worked. It wasn't perfect, he wasn't finished with it, but all his papers sat at the back of his desk, waiting to be finished; to be tweaked into something better.

The Oscorp incident left too many questions that barred the way to finishing it. Made his tongue go sour when he thought of picking up the notes again.

The question was how did Seymour and Mr. Osborn get the formula? His notes from home were mostly hand written, the only other copies were the rough drafts he sent over to Julia and the ones on file at Stark Tower.

The first question was why take The Weaver in the first place? He was too young to be notable to anyone of worth and the actual application of it was not in line with what Oscorp worked with till present. What were they going to use it for? He could think of a handful of the other interns' projects that would work better.

The next question was what they did to the formula. Objectively, he was impressed with how far they got with it, Peter couldn't suppress a shudder as he thought of the rabbit. Something was wrong with their formula. He didn't know if it was because they were trying to find Peter's original one or if they were trying to change it.

It's dangerous, Mr. Stark said.

Mr. Stark was the last question on Peter's mind. A pressure pushed into his chest but he made himself think it through.

Somehow, Mr. Stark knew about what they were doing. The man's actions that day were so out of character that at first Peter hadn't even considered it a possibility. But with those words it was clear the man was aware of what happened and had done nothing to prevent it.

Peter wanted, no needed, to believe there must be a good reason. Maybe it was one Peter didn't know about, wasn't privy too and might never be filled in on. He could live with that possibility. Mr. Stark never did anything without a reason and, contrary to what people believed, those reasons normally were with the consideration of everyone besides the man himself. Every one of their interactions spoke of that careful kindness, one that was shielded from an outside view if you didn't want to look deeper. It was there in everything besides their parting and all Peter could hypothesize was that Mr. Stark was scared.

Iron Man, the great and legendary man himself, was scared and for now Peter needed to follow his lead. The hairs on the back of his neck straightened on end. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a great tower, looking down at the monolithic fall below him.

The man was scared of something to do with Oscorp and if not and it was all an act, then Peter fell for it too. He wasn't sure what he would do then.

Too many people had come in and back out of his life. Mr. Stark was just the most recent on the list no matter the cause.

Peter suddenly wished The Weaver worked on whatever was tearing his chest into pieces. But no matter how much he twisted and tested the formula there was no possible way it could cure the wounds of the heart and mind.

The subway continued on and with a practiced ease, Peter pretended it was six months ago and his only worry were Friday's updates and if he should sit at lunch with Ned.

Thank you for reading.