A Familiar Face
"You look tired."
Peter IS tired. His head lolls and the muscles of his face relax, eyelids barely open to slits as he watches Gwen's lips.
"If you're making decisions while tired, you're basically 'drunk driving' your life. So sleep, rest, and decide nothing until you feel okay. That's really the best advice I can give you."
Gwen IS correct. Maybe everything with the Avenger's had been a bit overkill.
The mission with the warlord had been far more physically and mentally taxing than he had initially assumed. The faces of the children were tattooed inside his head, and their broken bodies came into focus every time he shut his heavy eyelids.
Peter thinks back to last night. In the ten hours he'd been in bed, he must have woken up six times. Not for very long each time, but enough to break his sleep into un-refreshing chunks.
"I'm overworked," Peter finally concedes, prying his eyes open once more as he tries to locate the mug containing his hot chocolate.
Both teenagers are sitting across from each other within a booth inside Mick's Diner. Gwen is, apparently, studying for some sort of entrance examination for Oxford University.
She had mentioned something of the sort to Peter almost a month ago, though Peter was half-asleep, not entirely paying attention, and bewildered at the thought any university outside Manhattan Island, so he had unintentionally pushed the thought to the back of his mind and forgotten about it completely - that is, until Gwen brought it up about twenty minutes ago.
"Wait, wait. I need another refresher."
Gwen sighs. "This is a very simple concept to grasp."
Peter, nodding, replies. "Yes. Yeah. I agree. But... I'm just... struggling a bit to wrap my head around it."
Gwen, before he has even stumbled to the end of his sentence, pulls out a small folder from her backpack. Bold lettering on the front reads 'OXFORD APPLICATION.'
"There's this spot," she begins, already struggling to hide her excitement, "in Oxford. Its, like, the ultimate scholarship deal. They pay for all the flights, an apartment, the enrolment - literally everything that could be an issue is outright paid or supplied for."
Peter nods, sipping his coffee. "And this offer is because of your thesis, yeah? The one you wrote while working for Dr. Connors?"
"Mhm. Three-hundred hours of typing and proof-reading I will never get back."
Peter picks up the folder, skimming through. He notices pages for admission deadlines, guides for new applicants, requirements for enrolment, and the application process for international students. "I just thought... I dunno. I didn't realise you were actually gonna go."
Gwen, having just swallowed a chunk of her painfully dry bagel, looks Peter directly in the eye. She's smiling faintly. "I... didn't really think I'd make it this far. The scholarship is for molecular medicine, and it's between me and this other kid, and there's this oral exam that we have to do and he's, like, a freshman in college, but he's 14-"
Peter studies her. Her voice is slightly shaking. It's obvious she has no idea how he'll take the news.
Gwen continues, "And - and I'm sorry for not bringing this up sooner. I know I mentioned it in passing but... I really didn't think I would make it past the other rounds. This is, like, it. It's just me and this kid. And there's only spot. I just didn't want to bring this up and flunk out a few days later, that would be embarrassing -
"No, no, it would not be embarrassing. Look at you! Gwendolyn Stacey, Midtown High Valedictorian and soon-to-be Oxford molecular science scholarship wielder!? Are you kidding!? You're incredible."
"Oh shut up," she shoves him softly, looking away.
Blushing red.
Peter grins. "Your mum must be proud. All your brothers, too. I know Richard would be jealous he's not flying out to London."
"Oh, he is. He's very annoyed." She shrugs playfully. "I told him he'll always be in my shadow. He should just make himself comfortable at this point."
Peter studies her some more while she continues to bask in her own greatness. He admires her blonde hair, and the way it delicately flows down her shoulders.
Her freckles are very prominent today, he notices.
She is the sweetest melody on both his eyes and ears.
...
Hold on.
What was that?
A warmth in his chest?
Why was something swirling around his insides, like invisible ropes becoming tangled against each other?
Oh no.
Feelings of attraction. Back again, against his best intentions.
Of course, they never truly left - that would be impossible. Peter had simply been trying to supress such feelings since her father passed. A promise was a promise, and Captain Stacey made a perfectly valid argument. He had met Peter on a grand total of two separate occasions before being killed by an enemy of Spider-Man.
The risks were simply too great.
She would be in danger.
...
Or perhaps she wouldn't.
Perhaps Peter could make it work. Surely he would be able to protect the love of his life, like he does the nameless citizens of New York on a daily basis. Surely he had become experienced enough in his role as the city's protector to balance super-villain fights with romantic candle-lit dinner dates.
Or this would end exactly how it ended with Captain Stacey. Even the slightest notion of Gwen coming to harm was too much to bear.
Should he say something? Express the feelings he so often shoves aside?
Would she even understand?
Wait. This is stupid. She's sitting across the table and Peter's thoughts are running marathon-level circles around his brain.
He realises the silence may soon evolve into awkwardness, but while rummaging his mind for a cool, nonchalant response, Peter is interrupted by someone who cares little for cool and calm.
"PARKER!"
"H-hey Flash!"
"You are lookin' good, my man! What're you benching?! I just hit a new record yesterday and I swear I've never felt so good! You should've seen how bulging my bicep was! Here man, have a squeeze-"
"Actually, as good as that offer sounds, I'm gonna wait before cashing it in."
"Suit yourself, bro. They'll just get bigger and bigger the longer you wait." Flash spots blonde hair. "Oh, Gwen! I'm sorry, I didn't even see you!" He awkwardly stumbles forward, evidently unsure of whether he should place her into a warm, delicate hug or clasp her palm into a sweaty dude-bro handshake.
He settles uncomfortably in the middle.
"It's been a while, Flash," Gwen replies slowly, not fully recovered. "Studies going well?"
"W-well... yeah, y'know... Mrs Harris says my algebra skills are better than they've ever been. And my answers are, like, legible now."
He provides a genuine thank you for her efforts as a tutor, and Peter admires the moment and acknowledges how far Flash has come in the past year or so.
"Wait, is this a date? Are you two, like, back together?"
"No," Peter says, almost too quickly. He wanted their study date to appear completely platonic, mainly to avoid the feelings he was still harbouring for Gwen while making it appear as though he was still upholding her father's dying wish.
But even Peter knew his response was far too quick and far too curt. Even Flash blinked a few times.
"Oh." Gwen's face is unreadable, though her eyes are quizzical and prod away at Peter.
"W-well... we aren't back together, so... I just had to clarify."
"You seem very definitive about it."
"Well, maybe there would be more room for discussion if you weren't leaving for England next year."
"Oh really? I suppose I should just cancel everything and stay in Midtown for the rest of my life."
"Oh, she's here!"
Peter and Gwen stop bickering upon hearing Flash's excited yelp. It was almost gleeful - puppylike.
Peter is confused. "...She?"
All three heads turn towards the door.
In walks a young woman. She looks close to their age, with tanned skin that is honeyed perfection, and a sweet dimpled smile. There is a warmth her brown hair brings to her features. Peter notes that she is quite beautiful.
And she is walking directly towards the trio.
"No way..." Gwen essentially mumbles under her breath, evidently just as bewildered as Peter.
"You're kidding..." Peter exhales in defeat.
"Guys, I have someone very special I'd like you to meet."
Eugene "Flash" Thompson - resident high-school browbeater with not a whole lot running under the hood - has found himself a stunning and sophisticated woman.
The world truly works in mysterious ways.
But wait. Peter recognises this woman.
Flash continues triumphantly. "This... is Liz Allen!"
Peter knew exactly where he recognised that name. Throughout elementary and middle school, there had been one girl who - for some unknown reason - had taken an interest in Peter.
Not romantically, of course. They were friends in the simplest terms.
While others made fun of the less-than-stellar condition of Peter's worn clothing, she would say that he looked very sophisticated. While other kids deliberately avoided choosing Peter for sports activities, she would make the point that Peter's intelligence could be useful for making up strategies, and that he would be a good asset to the team. Of course, this was an outright lie as Peter had no idea how most sports were played, but her effort was appreciated nonetheless.
While Peter was being shaken up in a jar of broken glass, Liz had often reached in to rescue him, taking the cuts and thinking nothing of the new scars. Peter always appreciated that.
For her high school education, however, her parents must have decided against Midtown. Peter remembers his fourteen year-old self being quite confused when she wasn't sitting at any of the desks on the first day of class. It was painful to think about - one of his purest friends had left his life almost as quickly as she'd entered, and for many years Peter simply forgot about the friendly girl who used to make his childhood a little bit better.
This was that very same girl - just a lot taller now.
"Hi! Nice to meet you!" she acknowledges Gwen in a sing-song tone, enveloping the blonde in what admittedly looks to be a deep, comforting embrace. When it's Peter's turn to be noticed he winces, preparing for the awkwardness.
Would she even remember him? No, surely not. She was relatively popular back then - surrounded by friends and adored by teachers alike - so the likelihood of recognising the lower-class nerdy loser from several years ago was rather improbable.
But when their eyes meet, Peter realises her kind-hearted nature must have stuck with her after all these years.
"Well, well, well,' she chimes, a coy undertone perpetrating from each word. "Been a while, Petey."
Flash appears to choke on something, coughing hastily to clear his throat. Peter even hears Gwen stifle a scoff, and he can tell her brows are furrowed without even having to look.
Flash is the first to inject himself into the conversation. "Uh, Petey? What the hell is that about?"
Liz giggles, turning to Flash. "I knew I recognised him through the window. No mistaking it - that's the same Petey from Brookemont Elementary. Same face, same messy hair - just a bit older."
The look on Flash's face almost makes up for the years of torment Peter endured under his thumb. Almost.
"So," Liz turns back to Peter. Even though he's sitting down, it is obvious Liz is much taller than him. While Peter doesn't really buy into the idea of aura, he is acutely aware that Liz is exuding something powerful. He gulps in trepidation. "How's life been treating you, Petey?"
xxx
About an hour had passed, all four teenagers now sitting in the booth.
Liz had ordered something entirely unknown to Peter - an Affogato - which looked closer to a dessert than any coffee he had ever laid eyes on. Flash raised his hand with a, "I'll have what she's having," which Peter assumed was simply a ploy to look good in front of Liz, as the high school jock was utterly bewildered when the cup was handed to him.
Peter introduced Gwen to Liz, and the two chatted cordially. Liz had filled Peter in - after Brookement Elementary she was enrolled in Stuyvesant High, a specialized school which offered tuition-free accelerated academics to city residents. Gwen excitedly showed off her Oxford application, and Peter discussed his interest in continuing to work for Horizon Labs due to its focus on unprecedented technological advancements. Flash often looked bored and tried interjecting with his goals to gain an athletic scholarship.
At some point, Gwen brought attention to the elephant in the room - how did Flash get close enough to Liz to actually ask her out to a coffee shop, and why on Earth did she actually say yes.
On paper, the story seemed sweet. Apparently Liz was working part-time at the local library, and because of the need to improve his grades for a scholarship, Flash had frequented such library over the past year. Little by little he got to know her schedule, where'd she frequent during lunch breaks, and eventually -
"You stalked her?" Gwen interjects almost matter-of-factly, and the bluntness of her comment makes Peter choke on his coffee.
Flash chews his words. "W-well, I wouldn't - uh - that's not exactly the way I would - look -"
Floundering his arms around, Flash struggles to reach a coherent defence. Peter is amused - admittedly, a little too amused - until he notices Liz.
She was looking right into Peter's eyes. He noticed her smirk. That little rise in the corner of her mouth combined with the cool detachment in her eyes created a sense of mischief; of innocent fun.
But why was she looking at Peter like that?
His pocket begins to buzz before he fully arrives at an answer. His phone.
Because the buzz is coming from his left pocket, Peter knows someone is trying to contact him through the SHIELD burner phone.
He feels a pang of annoyance. More work to be done in the city that never sleeps.
"Sorry, guys - bathroom," is his lame excuse, and before anyone on the table can muster another word, Peter Parker is darting into the restroom and into the only available cubicle, locking the door behind him.
He raises the phone to his ear, already dreading whatever mess they need cleaned up this time.
"Spider-Man?"
"Present and accounted for."
"Steve Rogers. He's missing."
Peter felt his brain go foggy, trying to process what he'd just heard.
"Missing? Huh? How can the head Avenger just suddenly go missing? I figured you guys would be tracking him to the ends of the Earth."
"We are, but there was an attack last night and he went dark. We were wondering where you were during the incident, actually."
Peter gulps. He obviously can't say sleeping, which was the wholehearted truth, as he didn't want to look lousy in front of the SHIELD executives. But on the other hand, he didn't really care what a handful of random SHIELD executives thought of him. He calculated if there were any responses which made him seem heroic or busy as opposed to lazy, though the irritable voice on the other line of the earpiece interjected.
"Look, just keep an eye out, alright? Hopefully being in the air all the time will make you somewhat useful. Peterson out."
The line went dead.
Peter is in disbelief. Shocked, even. He almost begins cursing out whoever the hell Peterson is, but is slapped back to his senses by the sound of the bathroom door swinging open.
"Yooo, Pete! You still in here?! You're taking your sweet time, buddy!"
It's Flash. Of course it is.
The bathroom door shuts, and Peter hears a deep exhale from the other side of the cubicle.
"Psst. Pete?" Flash's voice is now much lower - almost a whisper - as if he's trying to keep the conversation private between the two boys. It is obvious Flash doesn't realise that because there is only one cubicle in the entire room, he and Peter are the only ones in the vicinity.
"Y-yeah, buddy?!" Peter calls out, ruffling with some toilet paper to make it seem like inconvenient timing. Hopefully Flash takes the hint and takes a swift exit.
"You gotta hurry up, bro! I'm completely bombing out there! I mean, two hot chicks at once?! Sure, one at a time is something I can handle, but two smart hot chicks with, like, interests and stuff? Interests in science?! That's outta my area of expertise, man."
"Well, bud, I'm actually in the middle of something here," Peter continues messing with the toilet paper as loud as humanly possible to get the point across that right now isn't the greatest time to be in an enclosed space together. Flash once again either doesn't fall for the bait or completely ignores it.
"I'm trying my best for Liz. I really am. I just ... don't know if she even likes me. I mean, we're complete opposites, right? You saw us out there - she's smart and pretty while I'm just super hot and muscly. I don't have the brains to keep up with her!"
Peter stifles a small chuckle. He assumes Flash didn't hear because he continues to wait eagerly on the other side of the cubicle for Peter's input.
Defeated, knowing there's really no escape, Peter realises he needs to help this guy out - even if the last time they were in a bathroom together was five years ago, and Flash was dumping Peter's head in the toilet bowl.
"Flash, you gotta give yourself more credit. I know for a fact you studied hard with Gwen to bring all your failing grades to at least a C minus."
He hears a small chortle escape Flash, apparently happy at that response. "Yeah, that was pretty sweet." But then another sigh seeps out. "But it's not good enough, man. How am I supposed to hold a conversation with Liz if her mind works ten times faster than mine? What if she asks me something science-y? Like she wants to know what we're learning about in class? I'll be totally busted. She'll figure out I hardly even know what classes I'm taking!"
Peter rubs his temple. The leader of the Avengers is missing after an attack, and he's stuck in a toilet cubicle trying to work through girl troubles with his former bully. Destiny is a funny thing.
"Hey bud, if she ever does ask what they're teaching in class - which I highly doubt - just send me a text and I'll tell you what to respond with. Simple."
Peter feels Flash lean both hands against the cubicle wall, evidently trying to get closer to Peter as he becomes more excitable about the conversation. "DUDE! You're a genius! Whenever she texts me about things I don't get, I'll just get you to work your nerd charm. If it worked for Gwen it's gotta work for Liz, right?"
"W-well hold on a second-"
"Here, chuck your phone over; I don't think we have each other's numbers. Can you believe that?! Ten years of going to the same school and we've never sent a single text!"
Peter almost retorts with something along the lines of 'this is the first year that you haven't been an asshole,' but he practically bites his tongue to keep the words in. Instead he replies with, "Please let me finish my business in here first."
Flash lightly taps his knuckles on the cubicle, letting out an excited, giddy chuckle as he tells Peter: "You're the best, dude! I'm definitely inviting you to my birthday bash this weekend! Liz will be there so you can put in a good word for me! WOOO!"
The bathroom door is suddenly whisked open and slammed shut. It occurs to Peter that he's finally been granted some peace.
"Wow... sounds like a hoot."