Chameleon

A single nearby gas station in Brooklyn stood nearly empty. There were probably many other places to possibly hide, but not time to think of anywhere else. The bathrooms weren't occupied; only one family bathroom, which perhaps no one ever used. But that was good. The chances of them looking here were moderately lower than some other place in the open. It was still clear as day. It'd only been an hour since Peter left his place.

"I have to call my aunt," said Peter, suddenly remembering.

Natasha was about to go against it, but the chances of them having full access to tapping into all phone conversations were low after the whole incident in D.C. She didn't want to think of it that way, but if this were the last time he could possibly have to hear his aunt's voice again, so be it.

"Okay," she said.

Peter pulled out his phone, went to his contacts and had her name as the first one. He paced nervously as he listened to the dial tone, waiting for her to pick up the phone. If only he wasn't in this situation in the first place there wouldn't need to be a worry about her, or anyone else. Natasha removed her black hoodie and put on her new green jacket. Peter was half paying attention to the fact that she hid her Black Widow suit under all of her clothes. It seemed odd since he could only imagine how much she must have been burning under all of that, but then again, she was the Black Widow.

The dial tone finally stopped, and the connection had been made.

"Peter?" May's voice came through the phone, sounding tired, as she had been resting since he left.

"Aunt May," Peter said, sounding relieved to hear her voice. "It's me."

"Well I know that. I have you in my contacts." Peter smiled just a little.

"I was just calling to let you know . . . that I'm okay – since you haven't seen me at all today – and that I love you."

"I love you, too, Peter. And I hope you're safe. When will you be back?"

Peter hesitated. "I'm not sure yet."

"Well, if you're not back before I leave to go to work I'll call you and let you know, okay?"

"Okay, Aunt May."

"Love you."

"Love you, too," he said one last time. Then he slowly hung up the phone.

Natasha was subtly listening to this the entire time. She may not have heard what his aunt was saying, but hearing what Peter said was enough. She felt utterly guilty for what she did. He's tied up in the middle of this because of her. It was her fault. Apologizing was in her best interest, but right now she had to focus on keeping him and herself alive.

"Just . . . change into your new jacket," she said, holding it out to him. His was navy blue.

They picked up the clothes after they had lost HYDRA. It was a good thing Natasha had much money to spare in her fake bank account; otherwise this would be ten times as hard. When they bought them, they needed to move quickly and back out of sight again. At least they were in New York and not some small town with a population less than one thousand.

"I didn't realize you brought your suit," Peter noted.

"But I figured you'd bring yours," she said, just as he took his jacket off.

Natasha turned to look at herself in the mirror, checking for anything that could be suspicious to the enemy.

"You do this kind of thing all the time?" Peter asked as he changed into his new jacket.

"I did it more recently than you may think," she replied. "The guy I was hiding with could barely fit his clothes. You save a lot of trouble."

"I guess there's a benefit to being skinny."

The spy turned around after realizing that he finished, and checked him, making sure there was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Your hair slicked up even more than when I saw you last time," she said.

"Is that a bad thing?" he wondered.

"No. It looks nice, but that's an obvious feature."

"Uh, thanks."

Natasha turned the nozzle on the sink and cupped some water in her hands. She walked back over to him, doing her best not to let the water spill out of her hands.

"What are you-

Without a chance to ask, Natasha poured the water over his hair. She then began to run her hands all around his head. Peter didn't know what to say as small drops of water rolled down into his eyes and all over his face. This was actually the first time she really touched him. He did save both of them by grabbing hold of her and swinging away from HYDRA, but that was it. To him that didn't really count. This was direct contact, using her actual hands. For some reason it felt strange just knowing that she's doing it. If it were Aunt May, maybe not as much, but still…

Suddenly he found himself fighting away memories of Gwen. The only other girl who would touch him even remotely similar to now was her. He knew now wasn't the time to start thinking about such things, and he held them back.

Natasha had fixed his hair to a less obvious appearance. Since it was wet, it was sitting down and hanging over his face. She put it to where one could barely see the other eye.

"Look in the mirror," she told him.

"It's . . . different," he commented.

"Exactly. You look nothing like before."

"No I don't," he mumbled.

"You need to walk out here with your hood on or your hair's going to start sticking up again."

He put on his hood.

"Listen to me," she said, suddenly sounding more serious than ever. He was all ears. "These people are nearly as good at this as I am, so I can only play my part so well as to keep you out of sight. Which is why I need you to play your part as well."

Peter, while remaining cooperative in every sort of way, not for a second trying to argue between his life being at stake, felt almost vexed by the thought of him having to meet up to her expectations. This was her thing, not his.

"If we work together, they can't win as easily as they think," she continued. Perhaps she had a point.

"But anything I do, I just feel obvious and exposed," Peter said, trying not to sound vulnerable. "You can get away with this stuff way better than I can out in the open."

"The first step to failing at anything is by not believing."

It sounded cheesy, but it was true.

"The first step to this is to blend in with your environment," she went on. "You're still a part of it. They aren't.

Shakespeare's famous phrase came to mind. Peter always heard it being said now and then: All the world's a stage. He didn't understand the full extent of its meaning until now. Peter was an actor on the stage of New York City. Now he had to play his part to the best of his ability, and couldn't think for a second to break character. Because they were watching. His audience was watching. HYDRA was watching.

"You think you're too obvious? So does everyone else," Natasha remarked. "The whole world is insecure. People are going to try and carry themselves just as much as the person in front of them or next to them. People conform. Do it."

As much as Peter hated the idea of following others, he knew he couldn't lie to himself by saying he didn't do it either. High school was a perfect example.

"And lastly, like I said before, believe. First convince yourself that you are who you are, and so will everyone else be."

Peter took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

"I'm gonna get you out of this," she said. "It's the most I feel I can possibly do."

Peter said nothing.

"You ready?" she said.

"I guess," he answered.

The two of them finally walked out of the bathroom, blending in from that point on.