Chapter Text
You’ve been close friends with Peter Parker for years. It’s been a sporadic friendship, times of extreme closeness and other times you spent years apart, barely speaking. You first met him in science when you were paired up to compete in a robotics competition together. At first, he worked quietly, assuming you’d let him do all the work and win an easy A. You only became friends when you shoved him aside during the coding phase, pointing out every amateur mistake he’d made in his haste. Dumfounded, he’d righted his glasses and gotten back to working on the hardware with a smile. He’d been a weird kid, often missing classes entirely without a word. But so were you. Often you kept to yourself, working on your little coding projects, keeping tabs on the (many) freaks in New York City and seeing how close you could get to hacking into Oscorp.
During college, you become close again in your third year. He takes on his masters under the supervision of the much admired Dr. Otto Octavius and stress obviously eats at him. Things were rocky with MJ, so he spent most of that year crashing in your dorm, flittering in and out as he pleased. You didn’t care much, more than happy to focus on your own hobbies and first scratching ideas for your PhD. You liked having a weird friend to go to diners with in the early morning hours, someone to bounce your ideas off without having to explain them and a guy friend you trusted not to twist your relationship for something more. His heart was forever bound to MJ more or less, and your tastes were…a touch more refined. It had taken a while, but college had quickly taught you that you preferred the more awkward types, more unconventionally attractive and namely, older guys.
You drifted apart again after college, the both of you focusing on your burgeoning careers. You were far less discerning than him when it came to jobs, and you enjoyed a comfortable flow of freelance work, even if you’d once repeatedly tried to hack their systems. It was enough for you to afford to live by yourself in a spacious enough apartment, which was a god-send in NYC. You loved having your own space, even if it meant paying way too much than was ethically reasonable. You’d been doing your own thing for a while, living this life of solitude and computers and some morally questionable decisions when Peter messaged you out of the blue. It’d been nearly the longest stretch between your last late night diner meet. For a minute you’d considered that that was it, that he’d finally moved on completely from your off-again on-again friendship. You wouldn’t have blamed him, not really. You were stable, sure, but you wondered what kind of life you were living. Sometimes, you wondered if you were lonely.
Hey, been a minute! I’ve run into a bit of a coding problem on my research project and I was wondering if I could get some of your expertise? Paid of course.
A minute past, then another few frantic messages flood in.
Oh!
Paid in more than just pizza.
I promise.
Actual money.
-
Anyway, here's the address if you’re interested…
You toss your phone from palm to palm, thinking. Maybe this will be good. Maybe it’s what you need. Some reason to get out of the house.
Besides, you love money.
~
You’re a little more than surprised when you read Otto Octavius Industries on the building listing in the lobby. You never interacted with Parker’s mentor that much beyond a half-hearted wave or asking where on earth Parker had gotten to, there had been one time however, when Peter had managed to disappear for three days straight that Octavius had come to your dorm, desperate to search for him. It’d been late afternoon and you’d been sleeping most of the day, so when a rapid series of knocks at the door sounded you’d answered without really thinking. You’d opened the door to a flustered, older man, his glasses askew. It’d taken you both a minute to realise you were wearing nothing more than a tank top and a pair of panties. You both froze on the spot, before he began to ramble, red in the face before you murmured about having no idea where the fuck Parker was and then, gracefully, slammed the door shut.
Today at least you wore exercise tights and a tank beneath a cable-knit grey sweater. Not quite as scandalous. You gripped your gear bag until your knuckles went white and hoped to god the man had a shit memory for a scientist.
Peter was late, as you expected. You met him at the entrance to the lab and he buzzed you in, explaining what he and Octavius were working on with a wide grin. It was nice to see him again, even if he was talking a million miles a minute. He looked older, more sure of himself and honestly - self-assured. He’d always carried an erratic energy about him and it was nice to see him so focused for once. It seemed working in Octavius’ lab really suited him. The lab itself was small but quaint, filled with every new idea they seemed to have. And apparently the design tastes of two male scientists working off instant noodles and black coffee.
“Thanks for coming, you’re a life saver!” Peter exclaimed. He went to pat your shoulder, then shied away from it, remembering your distaste for random touching. You dumped your bag onto a random table and shrugged.
“No problem Pete. Where do you want me?” You said, unloading your gear. He gave you two awkward finger-guns and you knew immediately what was about to happen.
“Let me guess, you’ve got to run?” You said flatly. Your laptop beeped to life and Peter began to shrug off his lab coat.
“I’m sorry it really is - ”
“An emergency?” A familiar voice interjected, and you fought to school your face into neutrality. Doctor Otto Octavius stood beside you, coffee mug in hand.
Peter chuckled awkwardly. “Uh, yes. I really am sorry to you both but I’ll be back later, promise. Doctor, can you please run over the code we need rewritten for the mark two reflex tests?”
Otto smiled behind his mug and nodded. “Of course Parker, we’ll see you later.”
Peter left, mouthing another sorry before dashing off like his life was on the line. You swallowed and pretended like this was fine. Normal. You were a professional, afterall. You sat in silence for a heartbeat, before Otto cleared his throat.
“Coffee?” He asked.
“Uh, please.”
There was a soft buzz under your skin as he made a fresh pot and awkwardly cleared off old wrappers from the kitchen bench. It was strange. You didn’t feel much of anything around most people. Mostly boredom. It’s why you loved your big studio apartment. Even the apartment floor was quiet, you hardly saw anyone. But your mind was a hive, buzzing frantically back to that stupid day in your dorm. You hadn’t thought about it much. Well. In truth, you’d struggled to sleep that night. You’d tossed and turned until finally you gave up and shoved a hand down your panties and began to rub in the even, specific strokes you liked around your clit. Before you could stop your own mind, you thought back to the way his eyes had travelled down your body, grazing over every inch of bare skin. The way he went red and fumbled over his words. It made you wet in a way you hardly were. You continued the rhythm, growing with intensity as you thought again and again of his eyes on you, until you came with such an intensity it rippled through you, leaving you panting into your pillow.
You tried really hard not to think about that as he poured you a cup of coffee and explained the issues with the code.
“We can’t thank you enough for help with the project. It’ll set us back weeks without your help,” Otto said. You noticed he was struggling to meet your eye. Usually that was your job. But right now he seemed quite intent on staring at the steam rising from his mug.
“It’s fine. I do a lot of this stuff anyway…and uh, robots are cool,” You said, a stiff attempt at humour. It managed to get a laugh out of him, and the tension seemed to dissolve just like that.
“It’s not - well - it’s not quite - ” Otto began to stammer again, and you had to end it before you started to feel that buzz again. You raised a hand and waved him off.
“ - I know it's not a robot. I know. I know the arms are more than autonomous devices. I was just making a joke I guess.”
Otto cleared his throat, pawing at the collar of his green turtleneck he wore underneath his lab coat.
“I see! I must apologise, Peter makes most of the jokes around here and as you can see he uh, is in and out these days,” He said. You bit the inside of your cheek. He was being so overly nice, tinged with that bumbling awkwardness, but you needed to focus. You were actually here for work, despite how your own thoughts betrayed you.
You sat at the table with your laptop and gear and get comfortable. “This is going to take me a few hours, so I should probably get started.”
“Yes of course, I-I’ll leave you to it. Please let me know if you need anything,” Otto said with a smile.
You bit your lip, because there were a few things you’d want to ask of him. None of them were appropriate for the lab, of course. You worked tirelessly for hours as promised, getting into that focused flow state. In this state, it was easier for you to ignore your lab companion. Whenever you briefly paused to stretch, he would silently refill your coffee cup and continue on. You thought of Peter, wishing you could work side by side with your old friend once again. The thought would not leave you, so you allowed yourself a real break and stepped back from your computer set up. You strut about the lab, inspecting the equipment, tools, the mess and the notes left everywhere. You clicked your tongue. They really could’ve done with more organised chaos.
Eventually, you wound yourself around to his side of the lab. He worked directly with the prosthetic arms, so focused on his task he didn’t notice you at first. When he did, he practically leapt backwards.
“Sorry,” You offered flatly. He smoothed down his lab coat and put down the controls for the arms.
“It’s fine, completely. I get lost in my work sometimes,” He nervously explained. You picked up the touch-pad that showed the readings for the arms and flicked through the data.
“Me too,” You replied simply. After he realised you weren’t going to say much else, he returned to his work. You perused the data to your pleasure, enjoying the experience of learning something new. You were so entranced, you perched yourself on the lab table beside him and read to your pleasure. He said nothing, but fell into a sense of ease as he worked.
It was only after the first thunder clap shook the building that you realised it was evening.