June had been squatting at Peter's apartment for two weeks, no closer to getting any answers or any idea how she'd find her way home. She and Peter had done exhaustive research to no avail. He had tried to tinker with Babs in the hopes of reanimating her AI, but the snippy British voice remained dormant. They had even gone to the location where the New York Sanctum should have been, finding a Shake Shack in its place instead. Peter's small apartment between Harlem and Empire State University had become a life preserver from the precarious position she found herself in, but even it had its limitations. More and more she found herself sitting on his fire escape, swaying her hands absentmindedly from side to side watching the gold sparkly mist waft lazily as she tried in vain to empty her mind in meditation. Once or twice she had managed to levitate but found it was still a work in progress.
They'd fallen into a sort of routine. Peter would go to class twice a week in the mornings—not too early though just in case he'd been patrolling late at night. When he'd make it home for lunch, they'd pass the time eating something he'd picked up from the deli down the block as they exchanged stories about her mom and his Uncle Ben, among other private anecdotes. June knew he'd been a bit of a skater nerd back in high school while she'd offered up her reluctance to go to prom given her penchant for being a rich loner who preferred theater club.
Peter didn't have to worry about June finding her way to the library or making her way around, he'd found. He'd tried to leave her his metro card the first day, assuming her refusal was out of simple politeness at first until she made a portal to the bathroom from the kitchen.
"Oh," he had muttered with raised brows, "That's nifty." June, Peter realized, was like an onion in that her layers just kept on giving. When she asked him if he was comparing her to Shrek, he wasn't sure how to respond. She vowed if he was ever in her universe, it was a must-see movie experience she'd gift him.
June spent her days trying to find any answers to her current predicament and with each passing day, she felt her hope dwindling. There was, however, the consolation of spending more time with Peter. She'd leave magically summoned food for him in the microwave for when he'd make his way home in the dead of night. June would feign sleep when he'd crawl in through the window at three sometimes four in the morning, but in truth, she couldn't sleep until she knew he was lying next to her on the small futon. Peter could tell she was faking it but said nothing. Something about it made him feel warm. Once last week she had heard his slower steps, his halted breaths, and knew he'd taken a few too many hits. Without a word, she'd padded out of the sheets, grabbed his med kit, and summoned Mexican hot chocolate while she bandaged him up. Peter had missed class the next morning, but couldn't bring himself to care. June's hair was in his face that morning and the smell of it was too much for him to pull away from after the night she'd spent taking care of him.
Peter wouldn't let her go out on patrol with him, she came to realize. At first, he had swatted his arm casually, telling her to take it easy. "You're adjusting... Just chill here…Don't worry about it…Be back soon…There's no wi-fi password…"
Seeing as Peter went out on an almost nightly basis, it became pretty blatant pretty quick that he was trying to exclude her. June tried not to take it personally, but couldn't help when he'd swing out the window and it inadvertently triggered issues she'd just started to get over. June was getting fed up, particularly since he'd come home battered for a second time the night before.
"Alright and email is fired off," he said closing his computer, "I'm sure Jameson will find some way to twist this picture as well."
June laughed to herself, "Boy does he, in every universe."
Peter quirked his bruised brow. "You've got one, too?"
She nodded, "Yeah though he's not quite as reputable where I come from. He hates my dad and thinks Spider-Man is a menace."
Peter laughed, wincing slightly at his split lip, "It's nice to know some things are reliable."
She gave a half-hearted smile as she popped the raw lasagna in the oven—the ingredients she had summoned magically.
"Everything okay?" Peter asked, watching as she wiped her hands with his kitchen towel. She looked up at him across the small studio apartment, eyes flitting quickly from the Spider-Man uniform in his hand back to his handsome face.
June sighed slightly, "I'm just…I think I need to do something for me. I'm going a little crazy with the lack of leads and the cabin fever. You've been so great about everything and letting me crash-"
"No, hey there's no need," he interjected shaking his head, worried she was about to excuse herself out of his apartment and out of his life, "You can stay as long as you want, as long as you need. I probably should've offered you a drawer by now, but
I just figured since you've been magically changing your outfit there was no need, but now that seems a little insensitive. I know you don't have much besides a toothbrush, but-"
"Peter," she cut across his rant, "I just meant that I should maybe do something to pass the time, like a part-time job. Tutoring or something, you know? Something that won't require a social security number or ID or anything with too many eyes."
He nodded slowly, blushing at his outburst, "Yeah, that, no that makes sense."
"I mean I don't want to feel like I'm a burden, you know?"
"What?!" he laughed, "June, you've magically made me dinner, cleaned the bathroom, and done my laundry for the last two weeks. Like…if anything you're too helpful."
"Nah, just bored," she smiled, "But you know where I could be helpful…"
Peter's eyes narrowed slightly, his demeanor growing serious.
"June, just hang out here. You don't need to–"
"I don't need to? Or you don't trust me to?" she shot back. Peter exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. She tried not to get distracted by how attractive he looked when frustrated.
"I trust you, look of course I trust you," he pled holding up his hands, "But…I can't, look I can't watch my back and yours out there."
She glared at him and he knew instantly that'd been the wrong thing to say. "So you're my babysitter. Is that it? I have to be watched?"
"No of course not–"
"Funny because it didn't feel like I needed a chaperone when I stopped a bullet from hitting you the night we met."
Peter rubbed his jaw, "That's a horse of a different color."
"Don't you quote Wizard of Oz to me when you're pissing me off!" she shot, stepping closer.
Peter instinctively took a step back. Even without her powers, June had a presence.
"I'm not trying to piss you off. I just think you should view this as a vacation."
She visibly balked, "A vacation?"
"Yeah, a vacation," he tried weakly, "Not your universe…not your problems…?"
June crossed her arms as her eyes narrowed at him, "Is that how you'd act if our roles were reversed? You'd just sit back and be chill cooling your heels?"
Peter pursed his lips and hesitated. She knew he wouldn't.
"That's not the point" he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
"Then what is the point?"
"That I can't handle it, okay?" he hollered, "I can't do my job if you're out there, too."
June hesitated for a moment, struck by his emotion and his admission. But rather than let it go, she couldn't help herself.
"You know what the real bullshit is?" she demanded in a low voice, "That you think you're the only one with a job to do."
Peter's eyes flickered with regret for a moment, but June couldn't care. She turned around and yanked the oven open, knowing there was no way the lasagna was ready, but desperate to busy herself.
"I'm sorry, June," she heard from behind her before Peter disappeared into the bathroom. She closed the oven with a frustrated huff, and tapped her fingers on the counter, gold sparks flying from them as she did. She didn't turn back around: not when she heard the bathroom door open, not when she felt him close the distance between them, and not when she finally heard the window open as he disappeared into the wind.
She puttered around the apartment, trying to find small chores to keep her mind off of their fight, but finding she'd already cleaned every inch of it during Peter's excursions. Noting the timer on the oven, she thought she might meditate. After several irksome minutes, most of which consisted of her quietly muttering under her breath, she gave up with a huff.
June felt like shit. This wasn't like the years-long struggle she'd had with her dad. Tony Stark had only ever tried to protect her out of fatherly devotion, misguided as it might have been in some moments. It felt worse somehow that Peter didn't believe in her abilities to be a hero, let alone take care of herself.
With nothing else to do, she passive-aggressively flipped open Peter's laptop, typing in the password he'd given her: Qu33nsboi62!
"Might as well play some Downton Abbey while I stew," she muttered bitterly. She'd been pleased this universe had the show she and her godfather loved to binge watch together on stressful days. Before she could open the web browser, however, she noticed Peter already had a program minimized at the bottom of the screen: his police scanner. June tapped her fingers for a moment, debating before innocently motioning with her index finger, allowing the program to open magically.
"All units to the Dumbo District. Repeat, all available units to the Dumbo District. Unidentified winged assailant confirmed rampaging through Brooklyn with Spider-Man in tow, appears semi-conscious."
June felt the air halt in her lungs. Peter was there and he needed help. She looked down at the Ramones T-shirt and sweatpants she'd borrowed from him then averted her gaze to the closet where she knew her robes were hanging. With a smirk, she closed the computer.
Peter was fucked up and he knew it. This was his second night running into the Vulture. His metallic wings had slashed at Peter while his talons had nearly strangled him before launching him through three floors. Now they were facing off, Peter corned on a roof as he held his left side. This was the second guy in recent memory with tech far outside his pay scale; third, if you counted Alexei. He knew there had to be a connection, but he couldn't find one least of all when he was bleeding out.
"Aw, come on, man. Use your words," he said heavily as he played for time.
"You know, Spider-Man, I know a guy that would pay a pretty penny for your head," the Vulture taunted, "He said he wanted this slow, but I find myself getting impatient."
Peter leaped out of the way as the Vulture dove toward him, shooting a web with his free hand. His adversary, unfortunately, used this to his advantage, swirling in mid-air and launching Peter into a brick wall.
"Ah!" he coughed out as he clutched his ribs more tightly. His sense alerted him that the Vulture was headed straight for him once again, but Peter was still catching his breath. He braced himself for impact, but his senses piqued at the arrival of something else. Opening his eyes, he found a glowing, circular portal, sparks flying off its circumference. Inside the portal was the other side of the brick wall he'd been launched into atop the roof and the Vulture had crashed straight into it just as it closed.
Looking around desperately, Peter saw as another portal opened connecting his rooftop to another one in the distance. A figure emerged fingers pointed and hands swirling, as they stepped through clad in starry blue hooded robes and a blue mask across the eyes. Even without the tapered waist, Peter wouldn't have mistaken the surprise arrival. The portal closing behind her, June strutted across the rooftop in her boots and began to concentrate her power, gold smokey orbs growing in her palms. The Vulture rose into the air poised for attack though clearly confused by his new opponent.
"Miss me?" she smirked with a wink at Peter.