A/N: I finally finished the second arc of my 'Tales From The Peni-Verse' story, and so now, just like I promised, I'm gonna update this again :D I'll really pick up steam in the New Year but I'm gonna see if I can get a couple chapters done before xmas!

Just a note for this chapter specifically! It's a Noir-focused one, so there's a bit of angst. Think of it as emotional hurt/comfort but with much more comfort than hurt. Next chapter will be more firmly in 'fluff' territory ;)

Enjoy! And thank you so much for your patience!

Chapter 8: New Beginnings

Noir finished packing the last of his meager belongings into his grimy knapsack. Picking his gun up off of the eviction notice on his desk he turned to his rain soaked window and examined the street outside. Another cold morning.

He stood up with a sigh. The gun was heavy in his coat pocket, heavier than the knapsack. He was a hoarder by nature, but there's not much to hoard when there's no money coming in. He gripped the handle of his worn-out apartment door. The sign in the window read 'Peter Benjamin Parker, Private Investigator'. He laughed bitterly, "Yeah right."

Into the hall, into the darkness. Under his coat he held his mask. The smooth fabric gave him some comfort. A few weeks ago it'd been brand new, specially made by Peni herself. Now it was just like the rest of him.

He stalled at the top of the stairs. Where was he even gonna go? Aunt May's? She couldn't afford to keep him, and he couldn't afford to keep himself.

At this rate I'm gonna end up in Central Park.

And he didn't want that. He'd seen what happened to people who stayed there. If he went to Central Park it was all over. He'd be homeless for life.

I can't stay here either.

But there was somewhere he could stay, at least for a little while. He felt guilty just thinking about it, but he couldn't deny that it'd be everything he needed.

The interdimensional house. Peni did invite me to stay permanently… but…

He didn't wanna wear out his welcome.

And I won't, he assured himself as he stomped back into his apartment. All he needed was a few days to get back on his feet.

Just a few days. No more.

Repeating those words to himself like a mantra he opened the portal to the interdimensional house, pulled on his mask, and waved his crappy Manhattan apartment goodbye for the last time.

Noir hadn't prepared himself for the emptiness of the interdimensional house. It was like walking into his own personal mansion — and it made him feel… strange. The living room alone was easily twice the size of his entire apartment. His interdimensional bedroom was a lot more comfortable. Small, dark and cozy. He placed his knapsack on the floor and unpacked everything he owned. It filled about one and a half drawers on his bedside dresser. When he was done he took off his hat and stared at the deep grey void beyond the tall windows. He kept his mask on. It kept the emptiness out, and kept the weight of his world in.

He told himself that one day he'd let himself be himself amongst his friends. They never judged him for his awkwardness, but he still felt ashamed. The only one who'd seen him unprotected was Peni. He stroked the brim of his hat.

No point sitting here moping.

He decided to fill his empty stomach. Raiding the infinitely well stocked pantry, he contemplated his choices.

"Nothing here runs out… right?"

He wanted pizza. But it felt very luxurious.

Can I really just take it?

He'd eaten plenty of pizza when they were in the house together. He'd eaten feasts fit for a king. Yet here he was, his hand half in the freezer box, hesitating to even lift up a single pizza.

"I'll have a sandwich," he decided, "or maybe cereal. Something normal."

He made himself a ham sandwich and tried not to think about his pal Porker. Sitting at the kitchen's island bar, sandwich in hand, he thought to himself:

I'm starting to get why Peni's a vegetarian.

He was halfway through his meal when a voice called out to him, "Noir?"

He nearly fell out of his seat, "B!? Don't you have work?"

Peter B gave him an easy smile, "I'm a reporter. I pick my own hours."

Noir watched B stroll into the pantry. A few minutes later he came out with three steaming hot pizzas loaded up in his arms. When B noticed that Noir was staring he paused, "You want some too?"

Noir felt the sandwich's soft bread between his fingers. He did want some.

"No, I'm good."

Peter B shrugged, "Suit yourself," then he pulled up a stool next to Noir and sat down.

The sandwich was cold, but his stomach was empty, so he finished it hungrily. Then he watched B.

"It's been a long day," B explained, bulldozing half a pizza in just a few bites, "I had to deal with not one, but two Vultures. Two! I mean can you believe that? Adrian Toomes should be in a retirement home, not raiding jewelery stores."

Noir shuddered, "Adrian Toomes, huh…?"

Peter B gave him a pained look as he realized, "Right, sorry. Forgot. Your Vulture's… not like mine."

"It's fine," Noir lied.

"Hey, at least you haven't got a Kangaroo," B joked, "Real talk, I don't think I could handle another animal themed villain. They just get more and more ridiculous every time."

Noir pulled his mask back down over his mouth, "I wouldn't mind some 'ridiculous'."

B started on his second pizza, "Trust me, you do not want the Kangaroo. He has the craziest Australian accent. I mean don't get me wrong, it's a great accent, but when the owner of the accent is in a literal kangaroo suit—"

Noir nodded, "It's a bit much."

Peter B pointed at him, "Exactly," he lifted another pizza slice to his mouth, then asked, "You sure you don't want any?"

Noir was tempted, "I…"

B raised an eyebrow.

"…it's…infinite, right?"

B chuckled, "I sure hope so, pal, cos I don't think I could survive without my daily triple stack of pizza."

Behind his mask, Noir's eyes grew wide, "You come here every day?"

Peter B looked at him like his hair had just turned purple, "Of course I do! It's free food, man! Magic, interdimensional food. You know, I'm thinking of taking MJ here for a romantic getaway."

Noir slipped his gloves back on, "It's a nice house."

"It's got a pool, it's got a view, sorta, and those beds — wow! My back has never felt better, honestly."

Noir didn't notice the silence that fell between them at first. He only realized when B asked him, "You okay?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Don't mind me."

He heard B shuffle the stool closer, "Now I may not be able to see under that mask of yours, but I can tell when someone's not feeling right."

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, only people who aren't fine say 'I'm fine'. Trust me, I've been married and divorced."

Noir scratched his chin nervously, "It's…" he sighed, then remembered that B had been through plenty of hardship in his life. If anyone would understand, it'd be him, "I don't have an apartment anymore."

There was a pause, then B said, "What, like you're homeless?"

Noir kept his eyes firmly on the void beyond the living room window, "More or less."

"You can't be more or less homeless, Noir. You're homeless, that's what you're saying, right?"

"Don't tell the others."

B's voice was all disbelief, "What!? Come on Noir, they aren't gonna judge you."

"B…"

"So that's why you're here today?"

"Just for a few days."

Peter put an arm round Noir's shoulder, "Hey, I've been there. More than once. We'll get you back on your feet again. Until then, you gotta admit, this is a hell of a nice place to stay."

Noir chuckled, "More than what I'm used to."

He hadn't been bothered by it when he saw himself as a visitor. But when it was his house… he couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't deserve it.

B snickered, "Peni's gonna be thrilled. Mostly. I mean, she wouldn't want you to be homeless, but at the same time—"

"You can't tell her."

"What's the point in hiding it? She'll know you're staying here eventually."

"Just a few days."

"Right, right."

The pizza was gone. If Noir wanted any he'd have to get his own from the freezer box. As he contemplated that possibility, B hopped off the stool, "Alright buddy, I have to be getting back, but you take care of yourself, alright? You can always message me on your communicator doohickey."

Noir gave him a silent thumbs up. B was at the door.

"You'll get through this," he said.

Noir thought, We'll see.

When Ham arrived, Noir was by the glowing swimming pool. Despite himself, he'd become almost comfortable with the house's grand luxury over the past few hours he'd spent there on his own. It wasn't his, but it wasn't alien, either. Like a hotel. An in-between. He could enjoy it temporarily.

Ham wasted no time. "Excuse me," he said, then with a click of his fingers and a shake of his butt he dived into the pool head first. "Wooo boy!" he cheered when he came up again, "I don't know what Peni did to make this water feel so great, but it works!"

Noir dipped his foot into the pool's glowing warmth. Immediately his mood began to improve, "It's got some kind of brain chemicals in it."

"Is that the technical term?" Ham joked.

"Ha ha…"

Ham swam over and floated along in front of Noir's leg, "I come here every day, don'tcha know?"

"Is that right?"

"Yessir! I need it after all of J. Jonah Jackal's browbeating. I see you've come round to the pool's magic as well."

Noir tugged his foot back and forth, "It's my first time coming here uninvited."

"Pfft!" Ham pooh-poohed, "As if Peni would ever turn you away. If anyone has an open invitation to this house it's you, Noir."

"You think?"

Ham gave him a strange look, "B wasn't kidding when he said you weren't feeling great, huh?"

"He told you!?"

Ham swam a few feet back, "Slow down, tiger. He didn't tell me the details."

Noir slumped forward, "I'm just having a bad day."

"Well then let's make it a good day."

"It's not that simple."

Suddenly Ham was beside him, "Change your mind, change your life. That's what my yoga instructor says."

"I'm fine."

"Spoken like a man who isn't fine in the slightest. Come on, let's go back inside. Unless you wanna swim?"

Noir thought about it, "No. Not today."

Ham winked, "I bet I know something you will want today though."

Noir rested his hands on his hips, "Egg creams?"

"You've got a whole automated egg cream dispenser right here! Why not use it?"

Noir stared at the colorful drinks machine, "I should ask Peni first."

"Can you hear yourself right now? Repeat that back to me and hear how crazy that sounds."

Noir glared at him, "It's not mine."

Ham spread his arms wide, "It's infinite! Unlimited! You couldn't drink it all in a thousand lifetimes! She'd want you to have some!"

"Ham—"

"If Peni was here," Ham said in a serious voice, "Do you really think she'd say 'no'?"

Noir knew he was right. He was letting his emotions get the better of him. One egg cream wasn't a big deal. It was just one. He'd had many more in the past.

"Okay," he said finally, "Just one."

"Attaboy."

The drink was cool and sweet on his tired lips. As the frothy mixture soothed his throat and sank serenely into his half-empty stomach he accepted that yes, he needed it. He needed that drink. He needed this house — he wanted this house. Yet even so, he still didn't feel like he deserved it…

On the couch he told Ham everything. Ham listened quietly without offering comment. When Noir was done he said simply, "You did the right thing by coming here."

"It's such a nice house…"

Ham rested his hand on top of Noir's gloved knuckles, "And it's yours. And mine. It belongs to all of us. A home away from home."

Noir stared at the dead TV screen, "I know that. But I don't believe it."

"You don't need to believe in it. You just need to live in it."

Ham left shortly after that. Noir stayed on the couch, resting his eyes, resting his mind. His body had been shielding him from the reality of his world, but the truth is he was tired. Exhausted. He couldn't deny it any more. The cushions coaxed him deeper, eased the tension out of his muscles. He pulled his hat over his masked face and felt just a little safer. Before he knew it he was asleep.

At first, he didn't know where he was when he woke up. Inside the crown of his hat was only darkness. His ears listened for police sirens or gunfire and heard only silence and a soft, deep rumble far, far away. It's only when he lifted the hat off his face that he remembered.

"I'm homeless."

He sat up and looked around. Everything was the same as before. Big, beautiful, and empty. Then he noticed something, something small and white on the bar/island. At first he figured Ham had left something behind. Till he saw it.

"What…?"

A card. Handmade. It was crude, just a piece of paper folded in half with a simple drawing of a house on one side, but inside the card was a key, and a message.

[Stay as long as you like, Noir! You're always welcome! Love, Peni 3

P.S. The key was Gwen's idea. I don't know what it opens, but you can keep it.]

He picked up the key and held it tightly in his hand. It felt real. Concrete. He felt a lump forming in his throat.

Can this really be my home?

He thought about his Manhattan, pictured its rainy streets, the bleak day-to-day of its constant poverty. Then he thought about his spider friends, and felt all that weight fall away from his heart.

"I need this," he sighed, "Whether it's right or not, I need it."

The creak of old hinges echoed through the room. Noir turned his head and saw Miles creeping through the warp door.

"Noir!" he exclaimed, "You're awake!"

"Miles. I… was just visiting."

He had a sheepish grin, "Peni sent me to check on you. She's bogged down with some Kangaroo dude or something."

Noir couldn't help but laugh, "Of course it's the Kangaroo."

Miles gave him a quizzical look, "You know him?"

"No, but I feel like I'm gonna at some point."

"Well," Miles looked back through the door, "I actually have homework, but…" he paused, "It can wait."

Noir shook his head, "You go do your homework. I'll be fine."

"I could always do it here. Actually, you might even be able to help me with it. It's about the First World War."

"…you wanna know about the Great War?"

Miles's face was the picture of regret, "You know what, maybe I'd better—"

"Sit down, I'll tell ya," Noir picked up his card and key and strode over to the huge couch, "See, my Uncle Ben… he was a pilot."

Miles crept over, a pen and notepad in hand, "Did he get into lots of dogfights?"

"Funny you should ask…"

Noir told him everything he could remember. They talked and talked, about the war, about what came after the war, about his uncle's activism. It felt good to remember his uncle's life — it took his mind off his uncle's death. By the end of their chat Miles had a full note pad.

"Thanks Noir!" he said with a wave. Then the warp door closed, and Noir was once again alone in the vast living room, with all its pristine furniture and quiet rugs. He looked at his gloved hand, then he looked at his reflection in the sleeping TV.

"I should probably hit the hay."

Up the stairs to his room. His bed. His bed… it still felt strange to say that.

Our bed, he thought, remembering how Peni curled up beside him on his first night there. Now it was just him. Of course, that also meant he didn't need to go to bed fully clothed. Looking over his shoulder at the bedroom door he stripped down to his undies and laid each item of clothing carefully in the wooden dresser. His boots he placed under the bed.

"Done."

Laying his head on the pillow his gaze fell naturally upon the card Peni had made for him. He'd stood it up on the bedside table, next to the lamp. He watched it and thought of the message inside till his eyes could no longer stay open. He dreamed of laughter and warm embraces, and slept well. He didn't notice the small figure peeking in through the doorway, nor did he feel her tuck his blanket in.

"Sleep well, Noir," she said, and though he didn't hear it, in his dream he felt it and knew, for the first time ever, how it felt to be truly safe.