Chapter Twenty-Seven: Houston, Peter Has So Many Problems

"Goodness gracious! Peter, are you alright?" Aunt May cried as she hurried over to Peter, who had his arm in a sling and a couple band-aids on his face.

"I-I'm fine, Aunt May."

Hawkeye crossed his arms and shook his head. "Cyclists. They think they live above the law. Went roaring through the crossing and knocked Peter down like he was a bowling pin."

MJ furrowed her brow as she stood from the couch, where Eddie was seated. "A bike hit him?..."

"Yeah. And he dislocated his arm when he landed on it weird."

With a laugh, the redhead continued, "Is that your professional terminology? 'He landed on it weird'?"

Clint chuckled and raised a palm to the woman. "Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a scarf that I need to finish knitting. You're welcome, by the way." With that, he pulled the door open and slammed it harshly.

As Peter comforted May, he spied Annabelle peering through the blinds. She seemed to be watching the mercenaries that Hawkeye incapacitated as they writhed around on the ground in pain. "Hey, that dude has an arrow sticking out of his butt."

Eddie, quite possibly eager to work that into a headline, bolted up and dashed over to the window. "Holy cow...there's like thirty armed guys out cold in the street. I guess that really was Hawkeye."

"Are you certain that you're alright, Peter?" Aunt May asked softly.

"Y-Yeah. I'm sure."

At this moment, May's expression suddenly became serious. "Peter Benjamin Parker. You should know better than to lie to your dear aunt."

In the corner of his eye as he sheepishly grinned at May, he could see MJ smirking amidst his misfortune.

Peter sighed. He really didn't want to tell her that his apartment got blown up and that he had a single box of belongings left that wasn't reduced to ash...but, alas, he was never lucky enough to get his way. "Uh...my apartment got blown up."

May's face paled, and MJ's mischievous smile instantly faded.

"Ha! That one took an arrow to the knee! Get it?!" Annabelle hollered, snorting with laughter. "Come on, you've played Elder Scrolls before. Everyone has."

Eddie, still at the window taking photos with his phone, ignored her.

"No way... Do you want to talk about what happened?" MJ mused; her way of slyly asking if it was something Peter could talk about in front of his aunt.

He shut his eyes for a second. "They caught the Goblin guy...but before they did, he found out where I lived and tried to get rid of me. Thanks to Agent Barton, I was away helping with the investigation."

"Peter...that's absolutely dreadful. I'm so sorry." May laid a hand onto Peter's cheek. Quite promptly, she retracted it and shifted pace. "Now, it doesn't do to dwell on misfortune, so we'll pack your things and move them into my place."

"M-May, I can't do that."

"Don't be silly. I've taken care of you for eighteen years; I'm not about to stop now. You need a place to stay."

She barely had enough money for herself. Peter knew this, even though May always did her best to keep it from him. If he moved back in with her, he could help with some things...but not everything. Expenses would go up just with him being there, let alone eating more food and what not. With Peter living with her, they'd be broke in a month.

Aunt May's eyes darted to the ground as she sombrely continued. "I know that you've come to enjoy your independence and privacy..."

"That's not it, Aunt May. You can't afford it, and neither can I. I don't make enough money to cover my costs...and you'll never admit it to anyone, not even yourself, but it's just not realistic. You need to look after yourself for once. For me." Peter pleaded.

May's eyes began to shimmer in light of her growing sense of helplessness, but it seemed that help wasn't too far away.

"Miss Parker?" Annabelle called as she slowly approached. "I haven't had a roommate for a while. I wouldn't mind having Peter stay with me for a while."

A great pain began to manifest in the pit of Peter's stomach. He looked to MJ and May, and noticed as they exchanged glances with each other. With that gesture, Peter knew exactly what they were going to do.

"Belle...that's so sweet." MJ chimed.

"H-Hey, I think that maybe I could—" Peter started.

May brutally interrupted Peter. "Isn't that wonderful, Peter? You can stay with Annabelle."

"L-Look, I can't— I mean, she has bills to p-pay and—"

"I own my apartment and I'm pretty stingy with water and electricity already. We'll just have to worry about food."

"Annabelle, you are such a kind young lady. Are you sure it wouldn't be any trouble?"

With a smile aimed directly at Peter, Annabelle answered, "Of course not. I mean it's New York; weirdos always blow things up here. Besides, we can go to college together too."

That last sentence earned another exchange of glances from MJ and May, leaving Peter in absolute terror. He knew that to argue any further would come across as rude, and that was the last thing he wanted after such a generous offer. Perhaps his fear was unwarranted, but it was difficult to imagine seeing his crush every single day and not embarrassing himself. It was almost guaranteed that he would break something or get her apartment destroyed...then she'd hate him forever. He just knew it.

"Well, that's settled." MJ grinned mischievously at Peter but he could barely lift his eyes from the floor anymore. "Take care of him for us, yeah?"

Now, Peter would love to pretend like he finally spoke up against his loving aunt and overzealous ex, but instead he somehow found himself standing in the middle of Annabelle's apartment with his tiny bag of belongings clutched tightly in his right hand.

The entire place was blindingly bright. The walls were painted a bright neon green, and that colour seemed to splash across the oaken floor as well; as if the painter had been attacked by a dozen flies and started swatting them with the paintbrush. Each door had terrible drawings etched onto them in permanent marker, and the ceiling was spotted with glow-in-the-dark stars; similar to the ones Peter had in his bedroom when he was five.

The place was relatively neat in comparison to Peter's old flat, but it was by no means organised. Where Peter usually had clothes sprawled across the floor and noodle cups piled in his kitchen, Annabelle instead had distinct corners full of relatively useless items all grouped together. For example, in one of these clutters she had a rubber chicken, a plastic apple, and a dog bed despite the fact that she clearly didn't have a pet.

Strangest of all was that there were no family photographs or college memories framed in the living room, instead it was filled with obscure art and posters...and by 'obscure art' he meant a small tree wearing shoes and a portrait of a goat eating mountains of cheese.

In short, the apartment reflected Annabelle's strangeness perfectly.

"Welcome home, Pete." Belle chimed happily, sauntering through the room as if it were the most ordinary place in existence and opening a door right next to a statue made entirely out of energy drink cans. "This is your room. It's kinda just been for random junk until now so I'm glad it's going to good use."

Peter, who had been infatuated with the interior decorating until this point, managed an awkward yet completely sincere smile as he followed her into his new room. "I can't thank you enough for letting me stay here... I'll be out of your hair as soon as I save up enough for a new place."

"There's no rush." Annabelle replied in that sweet, somewhat deep voice. "You can stay as long as you want. I'm happy to have the company."

Desperately trying to hide his flustered expression, Peter shuffled into the room with his gaze solely on his own battered shoes. "Thanks..."

"You must be hungry, yeah? I'll go make us a snack."

As soon as Annabelle left, Peter finally felt his lungs expand and accept the air he was desperately trying to supply to them. It was difficult to accept that he was now living with his crush, but more so that he was unable to contribute anything to the partnership. It made him feel like a disgusting leech; he had nothing to give her in return...no money, and certainly no belongings.

Peter sighed as he tried to ignore the guilt welling in the pit of his stomach. Instead, he opted for unpacking his small batch of belongings...but not before inspecting his new room. It was full of shelves and cabinets - all sporting statues and action figures from her favourite shows, comics, and movies. Peter was particularly excited about the Star Trek figures and a fairly impressive model of the Delorean from Back to the Future.

This collection wasn't without its oddities though, as he had come to expect from anything Annabelle owned. She also had a large collection of gore-riddled dolls that sported the title 'Living Dead Dolls' on their coffin-shaped boxes. These were right next to another section full of Mr Potato Head's. No, not just the Toy Story version. It was a whole line of varying styles of that toy...and if this wasn't enough she also had a statue of Jesus giving whoever entered the room a thumbs up.

If it was possible, Peter suddenly felt even more awe-struck by Annabelle than ever before.

It took exactly two minutes for Peter to find a place for his very small bag of items (and to also debate how he was going to wash his Spider-Man costume without Annabelle catching him), and not too long afterwards Annabelle had entered with two bowls. She handed one to Peter with a grin. "Here. Eat up."

Now, the last thing Peter wanted to do was seem ungrateful, but the sight in front of him threw him into a state of severe confusion. "Uh, thanks...but what is this?"

"Apples and cheese." Annabelle replied as if her words weren't absolutely crazy to most sane people.

"And...why are those two things in a bowl together?"

Instead of answering his enquiry verbally, Belle selected a chopped piece of apple and a small slice of cheese. She held them together between her index finger and thumb...then popped it in her mouth in one smooth motion. "You've never had this before?"

"Can't say I have..."

Annabelle tilted her head to the side and murmured, "Huh. That's weird. Well, it's really good."

Though relatively sceptical about this dish, Peter didn't want to be rude (and he hadn't eaten in far too long), so he copied her motions and took a bite of the strange snack.

Immediately, Peter's tastebuds rejected it. The combination of something as sweet as an apple, and as savoury as cheese, simply didn't mesh well in his mind. It was hard to hide the expression that overwhelmed his face...it looked as if he had swallowed a whole lemon. Still, trying not to embarrass himself, Peter managed a wonky smile to hide his watering eyes. "Oh...yeah...that's...that's really something."

Oblivious as ever, Annabelle nodded. "I know, right?"

Succeeding in swallowing the sinful food, Peter places the bowl on the bed behind him. "Um...so, you own this place?"

"Yep. So you don't need to stress about rent."

Peter frowned. Sure, he was pleased at the idea of not paying for accommodation, but he also felt terrible about it. Peter had never felt comfortable depending on others. He wanted to earn everything in his own way. "There has to be something I can help with...maybe food?"

"Nah, I got it covered." Annabelle insisted. "But there is something you can do."

Peter nodded eagerly. "Name it."

"Any money you get, I want you to give it to your aunt. You said she was struggling, right?"

In that instant Peter's heart twisted in his chest; struggling against the chords that kept it hanging there. Aunt May was on the verge of losing her place, and though she tried to hide it, he'd noticed the vast amount of weight that she had lost - and she had always been quite small to begin with. Peter has always wanted to help...but she never accepted it. She knew that Peter had been struggling even worse than she was, as hard as that may have been to imagine. Perhaps, now that he wasn't paying rent, he could fill her cupboards with food while she was at the shelter or something...

At the possibility of finally being able to help the woman that had raised him, Peter felt like he might cry. Somehow, he held most of it in and wiped any stray tears onto his sleeve. He was speechless. He already knew that he liked Annabelle a lot, but after such a thoughtful suggestion, he could sense his affections reaching new heights. He wished that he could do more; give her the world...or at least a replica of it to put on her shelf. All Peter could give her though was a small "thank you."

Though it wasn't much, it was the most genuine thing that he could ever remember saying.