A Familiar Face
Flash's party.
Peter could think of lots of places he would rather be than Flash's party tonight.
Curiously, most of them involved risking his life, and yet somehow that was a more attractive option to him than making small-talk with the ex-bully and his gaggle of jock friends.
Yet as Peter, outfitted in the best-looking clothes he had, dutifully entered the building and saw how many people had turned up to celebrate Flash's big day, he wondered if he wasn't simply a bit jealous.
The room looked immaculate.
There were fields of shooting stars glowing overhead, attached to the roof, as well as constellations and comets.
Peter would have much preferred to be seeing the real stars visible from the New York skyline, but he supposed this was a nice alternative.
He maneuvered his way through the celebrants, deftly moving between waiters carrying perfectly balanced trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres.
In the background, a pianist was playing various standards and show tunes.
Peter was tempted to go over and ask him if he knew the Spidey theme song, but had a feeling the request wouldn't go over well.
He continued through the crowd, hoping to at least find Gwen, before a shrill voice pierced his eardrums.
"Um, ew! Why is the nerd here!?"
Ah. Sally Avril. Blonde hair, annoying voice, more annoying personality.
Peter had hardly interacted with her during his time at Midtown High, though she always loved to jeer and make fun of Peter whenever Flash had pulled his pranks.
Randy "Rand" Robertson, her boyfriend and close friend of Flash, is standing beside her.
"Nah, he cool. Buds with Flash now." Rand says smoothly, giving Peter a slight nod.
"Um, what!? Since when was Flash part of the nerd heard?!"
For some reason, Sally seems genuinely concerned about the mixing of cliques. There was a twitching vein on her forehead, and Peter could tell she hated being in the same vicinity as him. Prolonged exposure may cause that vein to burst.
Peter tries to find some excuse to exit the conversation - and possibly even the entire venue - but Flash stops him in his tracks.
"Paaaaaarrrrrrkkkkerrrrrr!" the birthday-boy drapes his arm around Peter's shoulders, one hand holding a drink while the other ruffles Peter's hair playfully. "I was worried you weren't gonna make it! We started like an hour ago."
"Ah, sorry Flash - my job held me back."
A partial lie. Some villain dressed as a walrus had been running amuck in Central Park. It was more embarrassing than threatening. And a waste of Peter's time.
"Hey, uh, Flash - gotta ask. What's with the space theme?" Peter points upward.
The jock groans. "My mom set this whole thing up. Like, yeah, I liked space … TEN YEARS AGO! I specifically told her I wanted a football theme!"
The remainder of Flash's friends slowly walk over, and Peter would be lying if he said he didn't feel uncomfortable.
It's not that these were bad people, but he didn't exactly have the peachiest of memories of their inclusion in Peter's bullying.
Okay, that's mildly unfair. The only other person who cooperated in the bullying besides Sally was Kenneth "Kong" McFarlane, a large but incredibly strong dude on Flash's football team.
As if on cue, the subject of Peter's thoughts ambles over, eating one of the hors d'oeuvres, and waves with greasy hands. "Hey, Pete."
Peter, uncertain, waves back.
Standing beside Kong is Glory, his girlfriend. She flashes a smile, though because she and Peter have never interacted before, there's some obvious awkwardness.
Flash groans again. "C'mon, guys, what are we standing around for?! Let's get some drinks!"
"Drinks? Like alcohol?" Peter asks quizzically, which produces a whine from Sally.
"Leave it up to the geek to get freaked out over a drink," she shakes her head.
"Yeah, Pete!" Flash says happily, beckoning him toward the champagne table. "C'mon, it's on the house!"
Peter thinks for a moment.
He had never actually had alcohol before - he was way too young to even consider it, and drinking wasn't exactly high up on his list of most anticipated activities in life, either.
But before he has a chance to deny Flash's request, the jock pulls him forward, away from the other friends.
"Parker," he whispers when they're out of earshot, "I need help."
They stop in front of a table filled to the absolute brim with a variety of drinks, many of which Peter assumes cost more than his yearly earnings.
"Didn't know you were rich, bud. Why'd your family settle on little 'ol Midtown High when they could've afforded-"
'My stupid step-dad paid for everything," Flash interrupts, speaking distastefully. "Probably trying to win me over. Won't happen. He's not half the man my father was."
Peter ruminates on this.
He really didn't know much about Flash's background. Peter assumed he had a tough childhood and decided to take it out on other kids, and this titbit about his father's passing was very telling evidence to support such an assumption.
Resting a hand on Flash's shoulder, Peter simply asks, "What'dya need help with, buddy?"
Flash smiles ever so faintly. "Liz. She's here. I can barely string two sentences together without messing everything up. I sound so dumb."
Peter isn't exactly sure how to help. He could, of course, hand Flash one of his SHIELD earpieces and feed lines from across the room, but explaining how a poor high school student could afford or even get his hands on such technology would be a herculean feat.
"Have you tried, uh … being yourself?" Peter asks, half-jokingly.
Flash's eyes pierce right through him. "She wouldn't want that. You of all people know how … lame of a guy I am."
Peter sighs. "Won't sugar-coat it. You've definitely been an ass before. I've lost good pairs of underwear to the wedgies," he chooses his next words carefully, "but ... that wasn't the real you. That was just you acting out your emotions. Remember when my uncle died and I shoved you against the wall? I just couldn't control how I was feeling."
Flash nods slowly, considering this. "But that doesn't mean I'm actually a good guy now. I've done so much in the past-"
"That you're trying to make up for. Sure, it's a long road, but you're being responsible as hell. Plus … if you really weren't a good guy, I wouldn't be standing here having this conversation with you, huh?"
The two boys are silent for a moment, Flash churning Peter's words through his brain.
Finally, he answers, "You mean that?"
"Every word, bud."
Flash places a firm hand on Peter's shoulder, maintaining strong eye contact. "I am sorry, by the way. For everything."
Peter chuckles, patting Flash on the back. "Get outta here, man. Don't gotta apologise to me. I kicked your ass in basketball that one time, so we're even."
Flash's head shoots backward, laughter erupting from deep within his belly. "And you broke the whole backboard! I was like, what the actual fu-"
"Hello, boys."
Liz Allen was standing right behind them, her honeyed voice startling both.
Not even Peter's heightened senses could've seen this coy woman approaching.
Flash chokes on his words harder than Mike Tyson losing to Buster Douglas.
"L-L-L-Liz! We were just - nahhh, I wasn't swearing! I totally apologized for bullying him!"
Liz blinks, an awkward silence between the trio. She responds, "... You bullied Petey?"
"W-W-well no, not exactly. I mean, like, it was our … our thing! Like Tom and Jerry!"
Peter could not believe the words he was hearing. He would almost be laughing if he weren't so incredibly uncomfortable.
If it hadn't been clear before, Peter now understood exactly why Flash had been begging for help. Somehow his social skills were even worse than expected.
"Well, I won't pretend to know what that means," Liz smirks, "But, I must say. Love the space theme you've gone for."
Flash, having frantically chugged an entire glass of champagne in the few seconds Liz had been speaking, sets the glass down and nods. "Yeah! I told my mom I wanted space and stars and crap, and she was like, shouldn't we do football because of your scholarship, and I was like, are you dumb?"
Silence once more.
Peter is wide-eyed, staring at the floor in horror.
Before Liz even has a chance to respond, however, Flash exclaims, "Oh, more of my family just got here! Good luck, bro."
Elbowing Peter, as if to say 'please help out of the grave I've just dug,' Flash disappears into the crowd without another word.
"Wow. That was interesting," Liz comments, turning to the table to select a beverage. She settles on sparkling water.
Peter rubs his head. How on Earth was he supposed to wingman the most thick-brained jock in the continent?
"Flash has a way with words, can't deny that," Peter looks at Liz, taking in her features.
Although she looks similar to what he remembers from years ago, it is obvious her jaw is sharper, and her cheekbones are now so defined he physically cannot bring himself to look away.
Luckily, she hadn't noticed. "So, Petey," she turns, maintaining eye contact while sipping her glass of water. "Here with anyone?"
"Oh, uh … no, not really. I'm not even really close with Flash. He invited me because -"
… Because he needs my help to win you over …
"- because I helped him with homework a few times. He was really struggling."
Wow, nice wingman-ship, Pete. Make Flash look even more incompetent.
Liz giggles. "I remember now. You were a smart kid. Bored in class because you already knew the answers to whatever math problems we were given that week. Actually, I'm surprised you didn't come with me to Stuyvesant. They love kid-geniuses."
"Ah, well … poor families don't really get to pick and choose."
Liz sets her glass down. "I've missed you, y'know."
Woah. Where was this coming from?
Peter was surprised she remembered him at all, let alone enough to miss his presence.
"I've, uh, missed you too." Peter blurts, almost with as much charm and nuance as Flash.
Liz turns to him. "I asked if you were here with anyone because I want to dance with you."
…
Huh?
Wait, wait, wait.
Of course.
The world was pulling yet another prank on 'ol Peter Parker.
Liz was one girl beside Gwen who had ever shown interest in him … and his ex-bully was in love with her.
There were probably expensive cameras hidden all around the venue, hoping to catch Peter's reaction in ultra-HD while everyone points and laughs.
Flash would likely jump out soon, smiling, exclaiming that his long-term plan to humiliate Peter had worked, and they can finally return to the good old days of bullying and wedgies.
But … no such thing happened, and Liz was staring at him, wide-eyed, waiting patiently for a response.
The words frantically stumble out Peter's mouth before he really registers what he's saying, "But - but I thought you were with Flash?"
"He was so sweet at the beginning. Now he's walking on eggshells every time we hang out. He hasn't even asked to go steady with me, so … I have no idea what we are."
She runs fingers through her hair, positioning the long, black strands behind her ears, which unfortunately allows Peter to see more of her beautiful face.
That had to be some kind of joke orchestrated by the God's above.
Liz continues, "And, to be honest, when I saw you at that coffee shop, I remembered how we were in elementary school. I liked you back then. Guess I still do."
She smiles, holding out her hand.
If Peter accepts it, he'll be whisked away to the dance-floor, in full view of Flash.
This could not be happening.
Heart pumping in his chest, throat dry, completely out of his element, Peter uses the exact excuse he had utilized at the aforementioned coffee shop. "I - the toilet!"
He walks away.
He doesn't hear her reaction, and within seconds he's amalgamated into the crowd, camouflaged - hopefully so that nobody can ever lay eyes on him again.
Wishful thinking, he knows, but right now he wants nothing more than to leave this hellish existence and crawl under the duvet back in Queens.
Fantastic wingman abilities, Peter. You've somehow made the woman fall in love with you, instead.
This would not happen to anyone else. This was literally part of the Parker curse. It had to be.
Peter's mind is racing a mile a minute.
Anxiety-driven thoughts are akin to driving around the block over and over, faster and faster. It's pointless. He needs to stop.
But Peter is so deep in thought - paying so little attention - that he doesn't even realize he's bumped into someone.
Oh.
Blonde hair.
But not Sally Avril, thank the heavens.
It was Gwen.
"Am I glad to see you!" he blurts out. "This has been the most uncomfortable night of my life, and that's saying something, since I include dinner with your family in that -" Peter then notices the guy standing next to her. "Oh. Hey?"
Gwen clears her throat, taking Peter into a hug. "Hey. Flash didn't tell me you were coming."
Separating, Peter mumbles, "Was last minute. He wanted me to put in a good word to Liz. I sorta messed it up."
"Hm," Gwen responds simply, turning to the guy beside her. "Well, uh - this is William. He works with me at Oscorp."
William outstretches a hand, grinning. "Hey, guy! Gwen's told me about you. Second at Midtown, right?"
Was the world ending? That could be the only possible explanation for tonight's events.
Peter, brows furrowed, clasps William's hand into his own. "Hi. I've heard, uh, nothing 'bout you."
Gwen shoots Peter a look - a dangerous look - but William simply chuckles and nods. "Oh, this is only like the second time we've hung out after work. We're usually too busy with our Oxford applications."
Peter blinks. "Oh. Oxford. You, too?"
William nods, "Yeah! Not a scholarship or anything - Gwen's the genius. But I'm moving to England next year anyway, and my grades so far are good enough to get in, so here's hoping!"
What? Why was this guy so … jolly? And likeable? It made Peter sick.
Woah, woah. Settle down, boy. No need to be jealous. Gwen and Peter weren't a thing anymore. This was completely acceptable.
And, plus, these two could just be friends, right? There could be platonic relationships between guys and girls. Peter and Gwen was proof of that.
Okay, Peter did love her, but that's beside the point.
Trying to calm himself down, Peter wagers William and Gwen are simply workmates. She probably invited him to this Friday night birthday party out of pity or something. Yeah. That's right.
Until William took Gwen's hand into his own.
"Well, nice to meet you," Peter says curtly, turning away. He makes his way through the crowd once more, toward the exit door.
As he leaves, he hears Sally Avril's shrill voice call out, "Ugh, finally. This place is now nerd-free!"
xxx
Peter had often felt that web-swinging was a good way to clear his head when he was confused and frustrated.
Considering the amount of aggravation he'd had to deal with lately, it was amazing his feet ever touched the ground.
Now, clad once more in his Spider-Man costume, his civilian clothes safely stashed away, he crouched atop the exterior of the New York planetarium, up at the highest point of the dome.
Flash's space-themed party decorations had been replaced with the real thing. Peter took a moment to gaze at the universe above him.
He then took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and started swinging.
The web-line carried him in a perfect arc, and he fired another web-line and then another in order to provide more distance between him and his troubles.
Okay. Fine.
Gwen was at some party with some guy.
Why did that matter?
It's not like her and Peter were romantically involved anymore. In fact, they'd now been split up for longer than they had ever been together.
As far as the students of Midtown High were concerned, it was a relatively uneventful relationship which lasted a few months before an amicable breakup.
They were still best friends, and would frequently catch up.
Well … the past few months they had seen each other less …
But that's just adult life, right? They were growing older. She had a job. Peter had superhero duties. A bit of distance was unavoidable.
So why did this hurt so much?
And let's not even get started on Liz.
Elementary-school friend he hardly remembers is whisked back into his life, now incredibly beautiful and showing interest in Peter Parker, resident Midtown nerd?
A fantasy. Almost too fictitious to be real.
With the added bonus that Flash Thompson was in love with her, meaning she's off-limits anyway.
Okay. Great. Let's recap.
The woman he actually loves is slipping away, and growing closer to Liz would mean ruining Flash's trust and restarting the bully dynamic. Not exactly an attractive option.
Whatever. He has some spare time. He decides now would be best to pop into Tony's workshop to see what that gift could possibly be.
The trail on Steve and Nat had gone cold for now anyway, so he changes directions, moving toward Avengers Tower.
Swinging in mid-air through the concrete canyons of New York City, Peter ponders the many uses to which he'd put his miraculous spider-powers over the years.
He had super strength, speed, and a spider-sense.
He had stopped crazy villains. Saved plummeting tram cars. Rescued countless people from falls or from being crushed by gigantic oncoming objects, or from fires, or from bank robbers, or from countless other things.
And yet, his powers were useless in his civilian world - the world of Peter Parker.
Girl troubles? Nah. Spider-sense doesn't allow him to read minds.
Money troubles? Sure, he could try wrestling, maybe win a few bucks. But would Uncle Ben be proud of such an abuse of power? Hell no. And selling photographs of Spidey was hardly enough to pay the bills.
Making and maintaining friendships? Hah. Peter barely had enough time for himself. Adding other people into the equation and trying to satisfy his relationships usually always ended in ruin.
Peter shakes his head. Even his victories weren't always celebrated.
He remembers the headline from this morning's Daily Bugle - SPIDER-MAYHEM: WEBBED FREAK CAUSES BUILDING DESTRUCTION.
What an absolute load.
J. Jonah Jameson had it out for Spider-Man, and Peter had no idea why.
As Avengers Tower finally came into view, Peter wished that, just once, someone would stick up for his superhero alter ego.
xxx
"Mr Jameson," MJ learnt forward, her fingers interlaced. "There's something I'm curious about."
J. Jonah Jameson looked at her with a trace of concern, sensing something was up. He stopped sipping his coffee and leaned back, looking to be in an expansive mood. "What would that be, my dear?"
"Spider-Man."
"Arrrrghhhh!" Jameson moaned, putting his coffee and donut down. "You brought up his name? While I'm trying to eat?!"
The man sitting in the chair across from MJ, Robbie Robertson, chimes in. "Spider-Man's kind of a sore subject as far as Mr Jameson is concerned."
He was obviously hoping that Mary Jane would drop it.
But Mary Jane had no intention of doing so.
"Well, I was just curious, that's all," she was frowning. "I mean, I've seen all the articles, the editorials … even the interview I gave for the Bugle after falling out a building had my words all muddled and confused. You left out a ton of what I'd said and tried to paint him as the bad guy. I was just wondering, y'know, what he ever did to you."
Jameson blinks. "What makes you think he ever did anything to me?"
"Well, you write about him so much..."
Jameson scoffs. "He sells newspapers, Mary Jane. That's the single and sole reason he's occupied as many of my column inches as he has."
Mary Jane is confused. "But … the slant … your editorials... I guess I wonder why you see him that way. But if you don't want to talk about it, I understan-"
Mary Jane could see that Robbie was shaking his head silently, mutely pleading with her to end the discussion.
"Mary Jane," said Jameson, "you can search high and low for the rest of your days, and you will never, ever find a topic I don't want to talk about. My son - your partner?" Jameson pointed to the photograph of John on his desk. "He's a hero. A real hero. Out there in space, furthering mankind!"
"But-" MJ began firmly, but was interrupted.
"Policemen, firemen - they're heroes. Men who follow the president around day after day, ready to take a bullet for him - they're heroes. And you know why, Mary Jane? Because they lay it … on … the … line …" He thumped his forefinger on the table with each word for emphasis. "Any my reporters? They lay it on the line. So do I. Every time we go after the crooks or double-dealers or power-mad politicians in the Daily Bugle, the name of the person who wrote the piece is right there, in black and what. You know what that's called?"
Mary Jane shrugs. "The by-line?"
Jameson blinks. "No. Well, yes, but no. What I meant was, it's called 'personal responsibility.' Taking responsibility for your actions and standing up for what you do. Spider-Man doesn't do that."
"... he doesn't?" MJ asks, wide-eyed.
"No. He's no different than these idiots who creep around on the Internet, writing vicious attacks and then hiding behind fake names."
"Well, I think he's a little different," Mary Jane pointed out. "I doubt a lot of those internet guys go swinging around Manhattan on webs saving people."
Jameson flails his arms in the air. "The principle's the same. The fact is that he goes around doing whatever he wants, wherever and whenever he wants - getting himself involved in situations best left to trained professions such as policemen or firemen - and hides from any mistakes he might make in doing so behind a red mask! Do you know why systems are set up to make sure people don't abuse their power? Huh? Because as Chairman Mao said, power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely!"
"Actually, it was Lord Acton," Mary Jane delicately corrected him, "and what he said was that power tends to corrupt. It doesn't always. I mean, look at all the power you have, Mr Jameson. Millions of readers who are influenced by every word you write. You shape the opinion for the majority of the people in the city. Are you saying that you've become corrupted by that power?"
Jameson scoffs once more. "There are checks and balances on my power. Laws against libel, for instance."
"Which Spider-Man could never make use of, since he's a public figure and you're just stating opinion. Plus he'd have to reveal his identity in order to sue, which you know he won't do."
"I have forty-seven years as a journalist, young lady," Jameson said slowly, "going back to when I was a paper-boy. That's a lot of years learning how to be fair and balanced. So no, to answer your previous question, I don't believe power has corrupted me."
"Then isn't it possible that the same goes for Spider-Man?" she asked.
There was a long silence at the table, and then Robbie said softly, "You okay, Jonah?"
"Maybe he's thinking about burying me," Mary Jane jokes.
"No, No," Jonah assured her. "Actually, I like a challenge. Keeps me on my toes. But understand something: you obviously make my son very happy. And because you make him happy, that goes a long way toward making me happy. And I'm willing to accept the notion that Spider-Man is responsible for your surviving of the skyscraper, which also helps my son to remain happy. In that respect, I fully understand your point of view regarding the vigilante. But that's not going to change the fact that when it comes to making people aware of Spider-Man's potential for nefarious designs, I have a job to do, and nothing can stop me from doing it."
Amicably, Mary Jane responds, "I understand that, Jonah. But maybe … he also feels he has a job to do … and nothing can stop him from doing it."
xxx