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1. Really good lawyer
Peter was never go after gossip.
He, like everyone else, didn't refuse a bit of chatter, but he never sought it out.
It wasn't like he had time for that.
Between two internships, studies, and life as a superhero, it was admirable that he managed to find the time (or money) to eat.
So, when his life fell apart and he was forced to vent to the pigeons nesting on the rooftops, he didn't think to go after his other vigilantes colleagues to catch up.
Actually, he didn't talk to any of them outside of work.
Jessica always seemed ready to find all the answers at the bottom of a bottle, which wasn't very useful for him since the first and only time he tried to get drunk ended with an empty wallet and a mind as lucid as five bottles of vodka behind him.
He barely saw Luke, bumping into the man every six months when his vigils extended to Harlem.
The same applied to Danny and Elektra. They both seemed too focused on their own problems (Peter never understood what they did) to have time for a chat.
What was left? Following the Punisher and Daredevil in every trouble they got into that crossed the boundaries of Hell's Kitchen and, occasionally, eating pizza in the back of some restaurant that would let them in.
That was the closest thing to friendship he had.
It worked well; Peter was the one who talked the most, always with a joke on the tip of his tongue that made Matt laugh. Frank listened to the two of them and tried to hide his own smile with his typical grumpiness. He would die before admitting that Peter is funny.
Nothing more than that.
No secret identities revealed or personal questions. Neither of them seemed to want to deepen their bond, content with the strangely comforting dynamic.
This time, going against all his principles of not getting more involved than necessary, he finds, among the rubble of an explosion near the docks, the Punisher thrown on top of Daredevil. Neither of them in a condition to wake up anytime soon.
The place was a real chaos. Part of the cargo was already completely consumed by fire, one of the abandoned buildings was affected by the explosion and seemed a breath away from collapsing.
From the top of one stable building, he sees armed men circling the rubble towards the two vigilantes. Without giving himself time to think, Spider-Man dives towards them.
Peter smells the metallic scent concentrating on the upper left side of the ex-Marine's abdomen. As he approached, he saw an iron rod practically pierce Frank's spleen. Matt wasn't far behind; he'd hit his head on the rubble, a thick red streak stained his face, and he was bleeding from gunshot wounds to his leg and shoulder.
The tingling in the back of his neck saved him from being hit by numerous bullets. He leaped through the rubble and blinded the shooters with webs.
In the end, a dozen masked men were trapped, squeezed against each other, upside down, listening to the sound of approaching sirens.
Arriving at the crime scene, Brett Mahoney pretended not to notice a red figure swinging between buildings, holding two men over his shoulders.
Peter wasn't sorry for getting them out of there, obviously. They'd worked together more times than could be counted, helping each other; he wasn't going to abandon them.
The problem was: Frank didn't seem to be able to handle a trip to Queens.
Peter didn't know anyone in Hell's Kitchen, and to be honest, he didn't want to risk taking the two dying men to his cubicle and attracting the attention of the gossipy old women in the building across the street.
So, Spider-Man makes his first blunder of the night; he breaks into the apartment of the blind lawyer who had helped him a year and a half ago.
He remembers researching the lawyer's life when he still lived in Happy's apartment. Ned helped him search the internet for anything that would explain how he managed to get that brick. They only discovered he was the son of a famous boxer and the address of his law firm.
Not wanting to burden his friend with more of his problems, Peter pretends to drop the subject. But, on a particularly agonizing day for Peter, where he couldn't close his eyes without remembering all the stupid things he'd done, he needed a distraction. What did he do? He followed Foggy Nelson to Matt Murdock's apartment out of his suit, avoiding drawing the blond's attention.
It wasn't a difficult job. Foggy didn't seem disconnected from the world, too focused on getting to his friend's house. Obviously, it was all pointless. Weeks later, Pete finally accepted that it was all just a big coincidence.
He didn't remember any of it until he turned a corner and saw a ridiculously bright billboard.
He doesn't know what he would do if Matt were there, but he certainly wouldn't be able to come up with a good enough excuse to stop him from calling the police. By some miracle, upon entering the apartment, he doesn't hear anyone there.
Peter silently prays as he lays Frank on the couch, begging that the kind man he knew years ago would remain the same and not kill him for staining his couch with blood and gunpowder.
The second blunder of the night was ransacking the apartment for medicine or anything that could help him treat the vigilantes.
Surprisingly, he finds an absurd amount of gauze and sterilizing agent along with an amateur surgical kit.
He doesn't dwell on it, rushing back to the couch.
The third blunder of the night: treating Frank and Daredevil's wounds alone without proper first aid knowledge.
Peter didn't kill them due to medical incompetence; he had experience treating his own wounds, but Frank's stitches couldn't have been worse.
Daredevil, on the other hand, still had an open wound on his head. Peter refuses to remove the man's helmet against his will, limiting himself to wiping the blood covering his face after removing the bullets lodged in his clothing.
Concluding that the situation couldn't get any worse for him, Peter decides to clean Matt's apartment in retaliation.
He begins by cleaning the floor, removing the blood crusts that were already forming with a spatula he found in one of the cabinets. Then, he takes out the trash and deposits it in the dumpster next to the building. Only when he finishes washing the dishes does Peter hear one of the men move. He drops the still-soaked plate on the counter and runs towards Daredevil.
As gently as possible, Peter forces him to lie down again.
“Are you alright? Sorry for putting you down, but Frank seemed to need more—“
Daredevil’s gloved hand encircles Peter’s throat, restricting his oxygen flow. The doe eyes beneath the mask widen.
Daredevil wasn’t known for his gentleness, always beating criminals to the brink of death, but Peter knew the other side of him.
He knew the gentle smile—even if he didn’t see it often—and the corny jokes he insisted on telling after every meal.
Never, in all the year they’d spent together, had Peter been the target of Daredevil’s overwhelming rage.
Spider-Man breaks free from the grip and leaps back, mirroring the alert posture of the man in front of him.
Red stumbles slightly before steadying himself on the ground, holding one of his canes towards the arachnid.
“I really think you should lie down again. You’re confused and you’re going to do something stupid—”
“You follow me to where I live and I’m the one who does something stupid?” The man growls at Peter.
But, as quickly as it came, his anger vanishes. He turns his ear towards the spider and analyzes — Peter still doesn’t understand how — until he understands what he just did.
His shoulders stiffen and he recoils, still not believing the inanity he said.
Spider-Man was right. He made some real bad shit.
Peter stares at him — or as much as he can while still wearing the mask — in shock. He knows that Daredevil listens to heartbeats and understands the chemical signals of feelings. At that moment, they both emanated disbelief.
Even in the dark, Peter sees Daredevil (if he still needs to call him that) blush.
He sees Daredevil blush.
Peter tries to connect the figure in front of him with the owner of the apartment. They obviously had similarities: both were white, the same height, and the same smile (Peter wasn't yet sure about the last one).
But, apart from that, the differences were absurdly bigger: their posture was different, the way they walked and talked; Matt's voice was soft and affectionate, Daredevil's was hoarse and full of contained rage.
Still, Peter analyzes Daredevil's every movement until his mind throbs with pain.
He sees the older man suppress hyperventilation, but he can't stop clench his fingers every few seconds. Cold sweat mixed with the blood that restarted trickled down his mask, his jaw tense.
Then, when the silence seems about to cut through his skin, he finally accepts the truth before him:
A normal guy can't grab a brick without at least looking at it, but the Devil of Hell's Kitchen can.
As if the night couldn't get any stranger, they stare at each other, shifting their weight from one leg to the other, too afraid to break the tense silence until Frank does it for them.
The ex-Marine suddenly stood up, still confused. He looked around; first at the door separating the living room from the lawyer's bedroom, then at the foot of the sofa, where Daredevil stared at him; lingering on the man's silhouette, searching for obvious injuries, and a weight lifted from his shoulders as he realized he was alright.
Finally, he turned to Spider-Man, and the tension returned three times worse.
The eye that wasn't bruised widened comically. And, if Peter hadn't been on the verge of a breakdown, he would have laughed at seeing the most brutal assassin he knew react like that to his presence.
"Red?" He turned back to Daredevil, expecting some kind of response.
"I... I don't know." Daredevil seemed desolate.
Finally, he tired of pretending that Spider-Man might not have understood what he said. Matt threw himself onto the sofa and covered his face with his hands, Frank's legs recoiled to make room and then stretched out on his lap. He waits for the barrage of questions with his eyes closed.
But it dosen't comes.
Peter, more than anyone, knows the importance of a secret identity. He knows the pain and problems that come with exposure and, under no circumstances, wants to cause Matt more problems.
He walks to the window he came in through, resting one leg on the windowsill. Before leaving, he turns to the two men who were following him with their eyes.
“You really are a great lawyer.”
Peter sees Matt tense and then completely relax, sinking even further into the sofa. Frank gives him comforting pats on the shoulder. He nods to the two and jumps out the window, waiting until the last second to shoot a web at the nearest building; instead, he hits the man on the billboard in the middle of his bald head.
He returns home trying to understand everything that happened, and his mask hid a small smile.
2. One body, three men (I guess?)
Peter thought nothing could surprise or frighten him again.
He fought face-to-face with the greatest threat in the universe (managing to land some good punches before being pinned against the rough rocks of Titan), saw a man turn to sand and another into a gigantic version of himself, and worst of all: he had five years to learn all of Flash Thompson's jokes.
No kind of weirdness or threat should scare him.
But Moon Knight was another level of freak.
First, he met Jake Lockley.
Peter intercepted one of the police radios that morning; a shipment of Ancient Egyptian artifacts would be stopping at Belle Harbor. He expected papyri and empty sarcophagi to be transported from the ship to some rich man's car and some armed guards. Instead, Spider-Man encountered a veritable massacre.
The four corners of the harbor were (emphasis on were) teeming with heavily armed men. One of the containers was ajar, and something was glowing inside. The figure in white at the center of it all moved like lightning, taking down man after man with unprecedented ferocity. He grabbed whatever was glowing inside and resumed fighting the survivors.
Peter leaped from the top of the building, diving towards the man and preventing him from plunging a… moon-shaped boomerang into the jugular of one of the thugs.
He easily freed himself from the webs that bound his wrists together and threw knives at him.
Spider-Man jumped and dodged, still trying to understand how the man managed to pull out endless moon-shaped knives from the symbol on his chest.
The fight seemed endless.
Peter dodged with the mastery of a dancer, but his attacks were useless against the man.
The two divided their attention between the few who hadn't yet fled and continued firing.
He was strong and agile like Jessica, but not like Luke. The man in white was hit several times, some bullets passing through his body, but he didn't seem to care.
Through carelessness, Peter ends up trapped under the man after pinning the last two gunmen to the wall. He expects the punch to hit his chin but feels nothing.
In the blink of an eye, the hooded figure in front of him transforms completely. The suit, previously white with silver details, becomes made of white bandages like a mummy.
The man releases Peter and steps back, looking from side to side.
Peter blinks again, and the man transforms once more. Now, instead of a hood, a white mask and a fency suit.
Spider-Man watches him intently, without lowering his guard. The figure heads towards the water, seemingly arguing with himself, looking at his own reflection in the murky water.
What the-
Tired of being ignored, Peter coughs and calls the man's attention.
He sways again, changing clothes every second, and Peter takes a step back.
“Marc… that’s Spidey, right?” The man in the suit whispers to no one in particular. He tilts his head toward the water again, as if listening.
“Damn it, Steven… That’s New York! What the hell were you thinking?” The British accent has been replaced by a hoarse, American voice.
He barely glances at Spider-Man and goes back to talking to himself, this time crouching near the water.
Peter sees the stranger gesticulate like a madman and look around before leaving.
Peter let it. Too stunned to move a muscle.
He wasn’t willing to endure another accent swap that night.
Unfortunately for him, less than a month later, returning from the Daily Bugle, Peter recognizes the same British voice amidst the chaos of rush hour New York.
He changes as quickly as he can, hiding in the shadows of a deserted alley. Climbing up the side of the building, Spider-Man follows the man slowly, still unsure if it's the same one from the other night.
The vigilante has to hide between the buildings both times the man looks back. A shiver runs down Peter's spine as he notices the difference in each look, leaving him anxious.
The first time it happens, Peter thinks he's imagining things. The man looks around alertly, searching for any kind of threat, like someone who needs to protect something — or someone — precious. Before the face even turns forward again, Peter notices the dark eyes roll back, reappearing completely gentle and oblivious to his surroundings.
The second time confirms what Peter saw; he looks back again. But beyond a strong concern, something wild bathed his eyes. And, once again, with a roll of his eyes, his entire body language changes; the tension in his shoulders disappears, his posture becomes less erect, and his steps take on a different rhythm.
What the hell was that?
Peter loses sight of them as he turns the corner. A minute later, he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and, without thinking, he dodges the white figure that lunges at him.
The two orbit each other, waiting for the right moment to attack. The tingling returns suddenly, dissipating without a single punch being thrown; Peter watches the man's posture change as his outfit transforms into a suit.
The mask disappears at once, revealing the man's face. He looks around, as if he doesn't understand how he got there. Still confused, he walks towards the parapet, observing the city ahead.
The uniform changes again along with his posture, now more alert.
The man stares at Peter in silence, as if he were listening to someone. Decided, he heads towards the fire escape.
Spider-Man's webs trap him before he can take two more steps. This time, he uses almost all the remaining web fluid from the previous night to pin him against the chimney.
The suit returns, and with it a high-pitched scream. The bandages materialize and he lets out a grunt, glaring at the vigilante in front of him.
“Enough. Take this off now. We are not a threat to you or your city.”
Peter uses all his strength not to back away at the pronouns. He continues to approach the man, stopping at a safe distance.
“Really? Who attacked me two minutes ago?!”
He sees the man swallow hard before the suit reappears, and with it, big soft eyes.
“It wasn’t us.”
The British accent matched the shyness and uncertainty of the voice.
Peter really shouldn't have gotten involved in this, but he'd already gone too far, and if he gave up now and let it go, he probably wouldn't be able to sleep for the next month wondering who he was (or what).
God knows how he can't afford to.
“Who exactly is ‘we’?” The red mask tilts to the right as he speaks.
“Long story.” He (with the bandages and a rough voice) finally loosens his grip, massaging his wrists as he looks at Spider-Man.
“I have plenty of time.” Peter follows the man like a shadow.
“Maybe someday, kid.”
“Tell me your name, at least!”
The man in the suit looks at him again, and the mask's glowing eyes soften before he murmurs something to himself.
Peter, surprisingly, has already gotten used to the switching of clothes and personalities.
“Moon Knight.”
“Lemme tell you something, Knight.”, Frank would be so proud of him. “No one kill on my watch. I don’t know what you are, but I will not let Belle Harbor repeat it again.”
He hears the American accent murmur in agreement before throwing himself off the bilding.
The third encounter was more enlightening.
Six months later, when Peter already knew Matt's identity, he was running through the streets, apologizing when he almost bumped into someone, making a mental list of what he needed to do.
1. Return home before seven
2. Finish the college project
3. Sew up the bullet holes in the spare uniform
4. Do the laundry
5. Eat (if he found any money in his pants pockets)
Instead, he spends the afternoon out after recognizing Moon Knight among the hundreds of heads on 25th Street.
He sees him standing in front of a Mexican food truck across the street and hears him buying three burritos; one vegetarian, one spicy, and the other with extra meat.
Peter repeats the same process as last time; he changes in record time and follows the man, this time making his presence clear.
Four blocks later, he turns towards Peter — who was hanging from the corner of a building — and nods toward a building.
Spider-Man follows the instructions and waits for Moon Knight, sitting with his legs dangling off the ledge. He hears the man climb the fire escape and then jump, landing behind Peter. The spider-sense doesn't kick in.
Moon Knight approaches and mimics the hero's pose.
They stay like that for a long time. He ate in silence, and Peter tried not to look too much at the burritos, his stomach rumbling with hunger. The sun was already beginning to set, and the flow of cars increased every second.
"So… are you going to blow my head off with your moon toys or tell me your long story?", Peter finally says after losing patience.
He looks to the side when he sees the man smile, finishing his vegetarian burrito.
"You right." He wipes his mouth with the napkin and throws the wrapper in the bag. "I'm Steven. It's an honor to meet you, Spider-Man."
What comes next is funny.
Peter's mouth opens with every word Steven speaks. Then it closes as he tries not to freak out listening to Marc. In the end, he stares at Jake with a raised eyebrow until he finally decides that the man is trustworthy enough.
Peter listens as Marc explains Ammit's sadistic scheme and his servitude to Khonsu. He sees Jake boasting about how he managed to hide from Marc and Steven for so long while protecting them. He laughs at Steven's ridiculous jokes and listens to him ramble on about Egyptian mythology.
Peter knew they had omitted a lot, but honestly, he could only imagine how good a five-meter-long bird's wing would taste with hot sauce.
He didn't need to know every trauma of their lives to understand their story. They didn't have much choice but to obey Khonsu, and that was enough for Peter.
Marc takes control (Don't ask Peter how he learned to tell them apart so quickly. He just knows.) and stands up.
He shakes his head toward the pizzeria on the corner and says:
“Come on, kid. I can't stand hearing your stomach rumble anymore.”
Peter feels like he might die of embarrassment.
3. Karen Page hate harassment
Peter doesn't know why he let himself be convinced to hang out with Matt's friends. He should have done the same as Frank and faked an emergency on the other side of town.
A year and a half after discovering Matt's secret identity, Peter allows himself to tell Matt and Frank his real name.
It was terrible.
He stammered and dodged the subject the whole time, unable to tell the whole truth. After a long story about how Steve Rogers fought for Bucky like "un lobo cuida de su loba" in Germany, he managed to say his own name.
"But I still think Sam is the right choice for Bucky."
The details of how he met Matt were left for another day. This time, he was stunned and said everything at once. Nothing too detailed at first.
Over time, he felt comfortable enough to talk about the other Peters, the Green Goblin, his aunt, and his friends.
He tried not to laugh as he heard Frank mutter irritably while devouring a pizza.
“Fucking dumb wizard. Who lets him keep one of those magic stones if he can’t cast a spell listening to you crackle?”
And he definitely didn't shed a tear as Matt hugged him and Frank comforted him with pats on the arm.
Now, he listened to Matt's friends, Foggy and Karen, chatting animatedly about the successful case. If he didn't feel so out of place in the seedy bar, he could have enjoyed the night out of costume.
Peter suspects that Matt realized how much he looked down on his other persona and that all this was just an attempt to make him relax a little.
After three drinks and two beers, Karen and Foggy had run out of things to talk about. The blond man leaves the group and goes after one of the women playing billiards.
Matt smiles and shakes his head in denial. Karen leaves him and Peter alone, heading towards the bar to order the next round.
Peter's attention shifts from Foggy's conversation to the woman approaching the table. She was tall and wore a very low-cut shirt. She sits in Karen's place, ignoring Matt and focusing on Peter.
"Hey, sweetie." She looks Peter up and down and smiles seductively at him. "I'm Jade."
Peter feels his cheeks burn.
Matt, not wanting to make either of them look foolish, answers for him. "He's Peter."
He nods and starts fidgeting with the rim of his glass, avoiding eye contact with the woman.
Jade is unfazed and takes one of Peter's hands, slowly stroking the back of his hand.
Peter avoids looking at the woman. She had the same skin tone as MJ and the same unruly curls. He tries not to feel dirty for looking at another woman who wasn't MJ, even if it was only to compare them. That was not right.
“Your hands are big, Pete.”
He feels her warm palm press against his. His body stiffens and he clenches his jaw. Peter doesn't pull his hand away, but he doesn't move forward either.
He hadn't been used to this kind of contact for a long time. The last person who touched him like this was MJ, three years ago, and in a much more chaste way. He wanted to run away.
She runs her fingers through Peter's curls, oblivious to the boy's shudder.
He senses Matt becoming defensive, shoulders back and a furrowed brow. Peter makes a "forget it" gesture under the table.
This didn't seem to convince him, and Peter was beginning to fear that Matt would jump at the woman's throat if she continued to touch Peter.
Luckily, Karen Page is a true superhero and knows how to recognize someone's discomfort from miles away.
Matt nods slowly at the woman still at the bar. That was enough for her to march towards the trio. She tosses her golden hair back and rests her arms on the boys' shoulders after placing their glasses on the table.
"Something wrong here, boys?"
The two women stare intently at each other. When Jade realizes that neither of them was going to say anything, she murmurs irritably.
"We were just talking—" Karen raises an eyebrow and says firmly:
"And I think that's over now, isn't it, guys?" Matt and Peter shake their heads, the younger one clearly relieved.
This doesn't make Jade budge. She puts her hand on her hip and looks at Peter in disbelief at being rejected.
Karen had the same look as Matt, seemingly wanting to strangle the woman until she begged for help.
They watch the girl huff and go back to the back of the bar.
Karen, now lighter, turns her attention to Peter. She notices the weight on his tense shoulders and can't control her own tongue.
“I'd offer you a drink to relax, but I'm not sure if you can. Legally speaking.”
Matt laughs, and Peter lets a shadow of a good-natured smile cross his face. He shakes his head in denial and points to his own glass full of Diet Coke.
“I don’t drink,” she seemed not to believe that anyone nowadays survives without at least a glass of beer. “Really. I don’t like the feeling.”
It was a complete lie. He never knew the feeling of being drunk. But, besides Matt, no one there needs to know that.
Her blue eyes study every detail of the young man; she notices the secondhand clothes, a size too big, the worn sneakers, and the dark circles under his large brown eyes.
“You from Queens, right? I saw your name in the last Daily Bugle edition.”
He nods silently.
“Poor you. Having to listen to Jameson screaming everywhere you go…”
Peter laughs and leans back, taking a moment to answer the woman. "He's worst in wednesdays"
“No one here watches him. You know, we prefer real journalism,” she takes a long sip before continuing, “You still haven’t told me how old you are. I really want to accuse JJ of something more serious than being unbearable.”
“I’m 21, so you can’t use the child labor card. But you can try misfeasance. I wish you all the best on that.”
She returns Peter's smile and glances at Matt. The man beside Peter shifts, realizing his friend's intentions, discreetly shaking his head in denial.
That (nothing) never stopped Karen.
She turns back to Peter and speaks, in the loudest reporter voice he's ever heard:
“You know what, Peter? I think you should come to the office someday. I would love to hear more about you coworkers.”
Peter's mouth twisted into something more like a grimace than a smile. He looks at his outstretched hands on the dirty desk and murmurs:
“By coworkers you mean Spider-Man, huh?”
Karen isn't embarrassed. She shakes her head and leans toward Peter, ignoring Matt's disapproving look.
“He seems a nice guy.”
Peter wants to believe her intentios. Karen seems like the kind of person you can count on. God, the woman has gained the trust of Matt and Frank fucking Castle. But he simply can't.
“I just take pictures of him. We are not friends.”
Karen remains unfazed. She looks deep into Peter's eyes and waits for the truth.
He doesn't say anything.
“I just want to hear his side of the story,” she finally said, with a sigh.
Peter tries to smile, but his eyes are no longer there. He returns to London, surrounded by drones, standing in front of Quentin Beck.
He knew it would take time to regain the people's trust. The spell erased Peter Parker from everyone's memory, but the bloodied image of Quentin accusing Spider-Man of killing him remained in the social imagination. Still, four years later, he still felt the fear of some people, expecting him to snap and kill them exactly as he did Beck.
Peter feels Matt's foot touch his, serving as a kind of anchor to the real world.
He returns the movement and look at the lawyer.
Whenever he thinks about having a real conversation with someone, his head starts throbbing and he wants to run away. It's good having someone to bring him back.
“I can’t believe he, of all people, would kill somebody,” Karen continues, unconcerned by Peter’s dissociation.
Peter looks at her with bright eyes. He tries not to think about the irony of her words and focuses on the sincerity in her tone. They exchange smiles and Peter nods.
“I’m sure he would appreciate that. Perhaps next time I see him I could try.”
Karen didn't completely believe him, but she remained silent.
Matt prepares to change the subject, but Foggy's hand grabs his shoulder and he feigns surprise.
“Bye bye! See you two tomorrow,” Foggy quickly grabs his briefcase and coat, smiling broadly. “Nice to meet you, Peter!”
Peter notices a woman watching the group by the door. She looks at Foggy impatiently until the man walks towards her. The couple disappear down the street arm in arm. Karen and Matt exchange restrained smiles and continue drinking.
“Tell me more shit about JJ, Peter.”
Peter finally relaxes and returns to his natural state: talking a mile a minute.
4. Pink tie
Peter and Matt went to Harlem together. They drove through the streets and past the old houses, following Luke's heartbeat, stopping in front of a barbershop.
“Hey! Thanks for coming. Trish is going to find a way to kill me if I don’t find a good suit by the end of the week.”
With Danny absent, as he wouldn't arrive until the day before the wedding, Peter was tasked with helping Luke find the right suit.
Matt was there to support his two friends, unable to offer much advice without raising suspicion among the shop assistants.
“Let’s go!”
Bobby Fish shouted as he parked his vintage car next to the group. Matt and Peter shared the back seat and listened to their two friends talk silently.
They visited three shops in total.
The first one had nothing that matched Luke's style. Everything was either too starched or not starched enough.
The second store, owned by a guy named Dapper Dan, was where Luke decided on his suit.
Peter leaned against the counter while Matt and Bobby sat on the gray sofa. He watched Fish swing his leg, staring intently at where Luke and Dan had entered. Matt smiled at the tenderness of the man anxious for Luke's big moment. Peter smiled, realizing Matt was also anxious.
The background music made the younger man nod his head to the rhythm.
“Men…” Luke's voice overflowed with emotion. “It’s God damn perfect”
“Get your ass out of here and let me see!” Bobby said, already up.
Luke came out of the fitting room and walked towards the group. Matt and Peter stood up and followed Bobby, who stopped when he looked at Luke.
It was a three-piece suit; the pieces varied in fabric but were all black. It was clearly of good quality and seemed to have been sculpted for Luke.
Peter smiled and nodded to the man in front of him.
“Not that bad, huh?”, Luke says, noticing Bobby’s lips tighten, his eyes already welling up.
“I bet your ugly face is messing Dan’s job,” Matt says, avoiding the tension in the room.
Peter and Dan smile broadly, followed by Luke.
Bobby glances quickly at the blind man, mentally thanking him.
The laughter subsides, and Luke approaches Matt, allowing the man to feel the fabric of the jacket’s cuffs.
Peter, who long ago gave up on not interfering, approaches his friends and analyzes Luke as he imagined Natasha would. “Don’t get me wrong. You good. But…”
“Something’s missing,” Bobby finishes, stopping beside Peter and tilting his head to the side.
Luke sighs. “He said the same thing.”
“It’s the tie. He didn’t like any of it.” Dan finally speaks and shows the options to Bobby and Peter.
“That’s pretty—”
“No.” Luke interrupts. “Trish said nothing gray.”
“Hm. Pick whatever you want,” Bobby said. “It’s your wedding too. You know that, right?”
Luke and Matt laugh loudly.
“I’ve an idea,” they all look at Peter. “But we have to go back to Queens.”
Matt lets out a tired sigh and sits back down on the sofa.
———————————
It takes them an hour and a half to get to the address Peter put in the GPS.
The store was almost as old as Bobby. Maybe older, Matt thinks as he smells a centuries-old mold coming from the warehouse.
They spread out through the aisles and look for something that would suit Luke. Matt follows Peter and whispers in his direction when he notices something interesting on his radar.
Half an hour later, Peter had three ties in his hand and Bobby was carrying ten.
It takes another half hour until Luke gives up and throws the burgundy tie on the floor. He smiles awkwardly at the cashier behind the counter — she was slowly glancing at him and his tie over her thin glasses — and picks up the tie again, brushing the dust off the fabric before placing it on the table.
Matt struggles not to laugh. Peter, on the other hand, laughs loudly at Luke's awkward expression. He leans back and rests his left hand on Bobby's shoulder.
Opening his eyes, his head still tilted upwards, he sees a colorful glimpse between the shelves near the ceiling.
Peter runs through the store looking for a stool or anything he can climb on, ignoring the confused looks of his friends and the cashier's irritation.
He stands on tiptoe atop the small stool he found at the back of the store. With a bit of calculated trickery, he leans against the shelf and uses his super-strength to discreetly stand up toward the half-open drawer, grabs the tie, and returns to the group.
Luke raises an eyebrow as he looks at the pink fabric stretched out toward him. Peter rolls his eyes and throws the fabric across Luke's chest.
Bobby doesn't argue and starts adjusting the tie.
Matt smiles discreetly as he notices Luke's heart beating faster. Bobby looked like he was about to cry again, and Peter mentally gloated.
Bobby finally pays after squabble with Luke. They leave the store and walk to the Arabic restaurant across the street.
Luke looked radiant.
———————————
Peter takes back what he said.
Luke wasn't radiant three weeks ago. Happy, certainly, but the light he radiated as he watched Jessica walk down the aisle was incomparable. He could blind everyone there. Matt would go blind a second time if it depended on those two.
Jessica walked slowly, a smile plastered on her face and her eyes shining.
She didn't cry until she saw Luke let a tear escape. She returned the gesture, and a small tear slid down her flushed face.
They kissed tenderly, and many smiles spread through the audience. Frank, Danny and Elektra whistled amidst the enthusiastic applause. Peter suppressed his own tears.
The yellow light made everything cozier. Everyone seemed in sync, and no one seemed to have fought against the city's mayor two months ago.
Peter watched the couples dance to a melodious melody, but surprisingly, it didn't irritate Jessica. He put a whole sandwich in his mouth and nodded approvingly to the elderly couple who were watching him curiously.
As always, he had to ruin everything at some point.
Seeming to have two left feet, he practically trampled Marc — and then Steven and Jake — when Danny forced him onto the dance floor. Elektra appears to help after laughing at the situation between the two, along with Luke and Jessica's daughter. Peter is sure he heard the woman whisper to the girl something like, "Never agree to dance with men like him."
Standing behind Peter, Elektra teaches him to loosen his hips and dance freely, guiding his movements to synchronize them with Marc's.
After what seemed like years, Peter finally manages to follow the woman's advice.
Still between the two, he loosens his grip around Marc's neck and moves one hand to his bicep, letting the older man lead the rhythm. He sees Marc cast an amused (and grateful) glance over his shoulder. He's not sure, but he thinks Elektra returns the look with a mischievous smile before spinning him around once more, making the three of them laugh as Peter almost loses his balance.
5. He’s just a friend
Michelle Jones is weird.
She's known it for as long as she can remember. She's proud of it 100% of the time and no longer cares what she heard during her high school years.
Her best friend, Ned, was also weird.
Not the kind who wears overly colorful clothes or listens to alternative music. He was the biggest nerd culture enthusiast she'd ever met and, after years, had come to be proud of it.
The two had developed a crazy obsession with Spider-Man for over four years. MJ had a mural on her bedroom wall with dozens of photos of the arachnid. They looked at the board whenever they had time, trying to see something about the red mask they missed last time.
She was sure no one could surpass her levels of weirdness.
That is, until she met her neighbor.
Peter Parker was an enigma almost as big as the hero he photographed.
MJ thought her obsession with the man stemmed from his job: he was the only photographer who could get a truly good picture of the vigilante. But, as the weeks passed, she realized there was more to it.
She just didn't know what it was.
Ned had called her crazy for the first time in years when she said Peter could be Spider-Man.
It was past midnight, they were studying together for their final exam, and during one of the breaks, MJ decided to prove her point to her friend.
“He’s always limping! Last week he had a horrible black eye that disappeared the next day!”
Ned didn't take his eyes off his calculation notebook. “He might have used makeup.”
“As if that chaos junkie knows something about color theory”, she leaned on the table and looked at her friend. “He always comes home late, his apartment always makes strange noises in the middle of the night.”
“Someone call the police!”
She flipped him off.
Before they could continue their discussion, a noise of bodies colliding with furniture came from the apartment next door.
Peter's apartment.
She ignored Ned's call and ran towards the wall, pressing her face against the peeling wallpaper.
"Are you going to tell me that's not strange?", she whispered as quietly as she could, trying to understand what Peter was doing on the other side.
"You always rearrange the furniture in the middle of the night when you're anxious! Why can't he do the same?"
"Shhh"
She doesn't look at her friend and awkwardly waves her hand in his direction when she hears something interesting.
They remain silent until the noise repeats.
“That was a grunt! He must have hurt himself after a fight!”
Ned frowns and approaches the wall.
“It sounded like a moan.”
“For God's sake. Now you just want to contradict me!”
“MJ, look…”
A slightly louder moan of pain cut off the pair's train of thought.
MJ smiles and looks at Ned, but before he could boast, rusty springs creaked under the weight thrown onto the bed and more moans were heard before a hoarse, muffled voice was heard.
“Easy… You… right…”
Something falls and the metallic sound reverberates off the walls. The two squeeze their faces together trying to hear what the man was saying.
“Fuck… wanna wake up… building?”
The sounds don't stop, but gradually decrease in intensity, and the voice is no longer heard.
MJ and Ned stare at each other. He knew the crazy idea hadn't left her head yet. Years ago, he might have believed her, but now? There was no way her favorite superhero could be her best friend's neighbor.
That kind of thing doesn't exist.
He appreciates and supports almost every obsession of the girl. He helped her find the origin of her black dahlia necklace (even though they don't know how it broke), helped her scour the internet to find the first article about Spider-Man and retrace the entire history of Quentin Beck. God, they even managed to hack Flash's Instagram together in less than an hour when the jerk posted a sexist photo of one of their former classmates.
And that is why — and because they shared their great hunt for Spider-Man since the end of school — he knew that Peter Parker wasn't Spider-Man.
Peter Parker is probably having a funny night and they are about to see-
Ned didn't finish his thought. Another noise, a loud grunt, was heard, and he knew the exact moment the night had gone downhill.
He couldn't stop MJ.
The girl ran out of the room, slipping from Ned's grasp, rushing through the living room like a hurricane, ignoring her boyfriend sleeping on the sofa while the TV still showed a basketball game, heading towards the door.
Ned, still whispering as he passed through the living room, begged her to stop, but she only stopped when she was already outside the apartment, ten steps away from Peter's door.
"If I'm wrong, there's nothing to worry about, huh?"
"My god, MJ! He is—"
MJ didn't listen. She knocked on the door three times, her fist clenched so she could be heard over the noise coming from the apartment, and waited.
Ned went back inside the apartment, leaving only a crack open. He refuses to witness this without something physical to protect him from secondhand embarrassment.
The noise completely ceases before returning. Someone had fallen awkwardly and was running around the room cursing.
When the door opens, MJ doesn't see the large, kind brown eyes ahe expected. A grumpy, shirtless, and sweaty man opens the door and blocks the view of the rest of the apartment.
He waits for her to speak, but all she manages to do is open and close her mouth pathetically. In another moment, she would recognize him, but now her eyes only had attention for his ridiculously hot body. The man raises one thick eyebrow and speaks, the same husky voice from minutes ago.
“Can I help you?”, the polite phrase doesn't match his defensive posture.
She had exactly two seconds to find a convincing lie. MJ swallows hard and stops speaking before finding the right words.
“I was just… looking for Peter.”
A second later, a disheveled Peter, wearing a shirt so much bigger for him, appears behind the mountain of muscles.
MJ watches Peter pull the man into the apartment and take his place. His left arm gripping the door tightly.
“MJ! What are you doing here? It’s a little late… Oh my god, I didn’t wake you up, did I? I’m so sorry! I was just— Hm…”
Peter stammers, looking anywhere but into her eyes. He scratches the back of his neck, and she notices a small reddish-purple bruise escaping from the collar of his shirt.
God, she was so wrong that her cheeks begin to burn, matching the man in front of her.
MJ, after going to the moon and back, interrupts Peter's chatter.
“I heard a noise and wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn't know you had… company.”
As if he'd switched on an old computer, Peter takes a moment to realize what she was implying. He shakes his head frantically and waves his free palm in denial, his eyes so wide she fears they will pop out of his angelic face.
“God, no! Fran- He’s just a friend. A good friend and nothing else. He’s kinda a brother to me.”, hes eyes close before continue “And I know thats what people hiding in the closet usually tells but it’s not my case. And not his too. We are friends. We-“
He realizes he was talking like a hurricane, which didn't help prove his point. With calmer breathing, he regains his composure and continues:
“We’re just friends.”, this time more confident.
They look at each other and an clumsy silence hangs between them. Peter timidly bangs his head against the door while the woman stares at him.
“So… I’m gotta go.”, he murmurs in agreement, still without looking her in the eyes. “Good night, Pete.”
She turns and walks slowly to her own apartment, trying not to seem so nervous.
“Good night, MJ…”
She hears the neighbor's murmur before closing the door completely.
Leaning against the wood, MJ covers her face with her hands and avoids her best friend's gaze.
At least she didn't bet anything with Ned.
———————————
Reminder of the day: never count on Matt and Frank's help when it comes to odorless flammable gas.
Matt was an incredible fighter, using his super-sharp senses to knock out every thug who crossed his path. Frank was a force of nature; there was no escaping his wrath, only praying to survive it.
Together, they were unbeatable. Or they could be, when they weren't trying to kill each other.
That's what Peter thought when he asked the couple for help dealing with a large, growing drug trafficking network in Queens.
Everything started to go wrong when Matt couldn't smell anything in the environment, only orienting himself by sound. He would later explain what the mixture of so many chemicals could do to his sense of smell. Peter would compared him to a dog and received a slap on the head from Frank.
The place was gigantic.
Surrounded by an absurd number of thugs, Peter and Frank separated from Matt. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen was on the other side of the warehouse, just a few feet away from the clusters of black metal barrels in the corner of the room.
When one of the men points his gun at an extremely busy Matt, Frank doesn't hesitate to shoot.
Peter manages to yell for them to back away before the bullet goes through the side of the man's head and hits the metal of the barrel.
The explosion blinds Peter for a few seconds, and he clings to the skull drawn on Frank's chest, dragging him to the ground.
Less than thirty seconds later, Peter and Frank drag a deaf Matt out of the warehouse and head to Peter's apartment.
They enter through the open window and sneak through the darkness of the younger man's apartment.
Frank fumbles with the light switch until he manages to turn on the lights, cursing as he bumps into some furniture in the process, and runs to get the first aid kit.
They fumble with the zipper of Matt's armor, neither of them able to calm down.
Matt had the same lost look as always, but his head kept turning. He couldn't hear anything properly, but he knew Frank was beside him, whispering apologies and cursing.
He waves his hand in the air until he finds Frank's face and strokes the man's beard, his fingers sliding into the long hair, and feels the man instantly relax.
Peter looks away, not feeling entitled to invade his friends' privacy. Still searching for clean towels in the closet, he hears Frank repeat, "Easy, Red. You're gonna be alright," hoping Matt would understand the message.
Peter approaches his friends holding a small tray full of painkillers in one hand and clean towels in the other.
"Frank, hold this. I'm gonna put him on the bed."
He didn't obey. He takes Matt to the single bed alone, cursing as he sees Matt frown at the sound of the springs.
Matt refuses to take any painkillers, but lets Frank stitch up the cut on his stomach.
As Frank stood up abruptly, he bumped into Peter (who looked more like his shadow at that point). The tray fell with a thud, making all three of them flinch.
The ex-Marine glared at Peter with hatred.
“Fuck, wanna wake up the entire building, asshole?”
“It was your fault, dumbass!” Peter said, returning Frank's glare before relaxing.
He picked up the tray and put it in the kitchen cupboard. He gestured for Frank to take off his shirt and said:
“We can't wait for Matt to wake up. I'm going to stitch up this cut on your back.”
He saw Frank grimace in disgust; they both remembered the last time Peter had taken care of him.
“I got better. I promise.”
With no other choice, Frank sat down in one of the living room chairs and turned his back to Peter.
He tried not to make any noise, but Peter really didn't have the knack for that.
The burning sensation of cheap alcohol against the deep cut is nothing compared to Peter's slowness with a needle.
After a few minutes, Peter finishes and releases Frank. He tries to run from the man, but the calloused hand circles his wrist.
“Your turn, Webhead.”
He tries not to growl at Frank's mocking voice, but accepts his fate without much complaint.
Peter removes the top part of his uniform and sits facing Frank, trying not to find the concern and irritation in the man's eyes endearing as he sees the purple and red marks on his chest.
He cleans the deeper scratches, ignoring Peter's hisses of pain, and stitches up the long cut on his left chest.
Loud banging reverberates through the four walls as Frank cuts the needle. Peter jumps in fright, falling from the chair and looking desperately towards the door.
He runs around the room, trying to take off his uniform and get dressed in normal clothes. He rummages through the small wardrobe until he finds a pair of sweatpants, but before he's even put on the first leg, Peter sees Frank heading towards the door.
Peter stops until he recognizes who's outside. He puts the wardrobe aside, grabs the black shirt lying on the floor, and runs towards Frank.
Grabbing his friend from behind, he pushes him out of MJ's sight, preventing Frank from witnessing the impending disaster.
Minutes later, Peter closes the apartment door and leans against the wood, covering his face with his hands.
A wave of indignation washes over Peter as he hears his friends' laughter.
Of course, Matt would regain his hearing just as Peter was experiencing the most embarrassing moment of his life.
“The love of my life thinks I’m dating Frank and you laugh?!” He shouts softly, pointing his finger at the two of them.
“Did you hear that, Red? You have competition now.”
“Oh, no!”
They laugh, ignoring the anger Peter exuded.
“I’m gonna kill you.”
+ Graduation
The sun burned against his skin, making the fabric of his gown unbearably hot. The trees and sky seemed to shimmer among the hundreds of graduates leaving the church.
The blue dots around him made everything more difficult.
He had finally graduated. He had a diploma and a paid internship offer with Dr. Banner. His life was beginning to fall into place.
Still, he felt extremely alone.
No one escorted him out of the church or forced him to stand in line for the official photos.
His aunt, who had so longed to see him graduate, wasn't there. MJ and Ned, even if they didn't completely hate him, hadn't forgiven him yet. None of them showed up.
But who could he blame besides himself?
Peter stood paralyzed in the grass, not even following the movement around him with his eyes. The sky seemed to mock him; there was no other explanation for New York having such a beautiful day.
The cool breeze ruffled his curls, refreshing the heat he felt. But his heart still ached as he watched each of his classmates being embraced by friends and family.
Peter's eyes widened as he smelled gunpowder, coffee, pie, vodka, books, and typewriters, all mixed together in a wonderful cacophony.
Still in disbelief, he turned slowly.
Underneath two trees stood NYC's most valuable lawyers and vigilantes.
Matt held his cane in his free hand, his other arm linked with his boyfriend's. Frank was dressed in black from head to toe, the hood of his sweatshirt awkwardly pulled over his head, exposing his face and his restrained happiness. Jessica and Luke were together, she wore her professional camera around her neck. Karen was slightly ahead of Luke, Foggy beside her, waving excitedly at Peter. Steven had a beautiful smile on his face and was holding a basket that smelled of a delicious spice blend.
He struggled not to cry. God, he struggled like a condemned man.
Even so, as he walked toward the group with shaky legs, his eyes lit up as he got close to Karen.
“I-I cannot believe you’re here.”
“Don’t be stupid, Peter.” Frank took the ridiculous hat off the boy’s head and tossed it from one hand to the other.
“We would never miss.” Matt concluded, giving him a gentle, affectionate smile.
Peter observed each one slowly, repeating to himself that he shouldn’t cry. He remembered how alone and depressed he was after the spell, and as he recalled each of the stories he had lived with the friends in front of him, it became an increasingly less painful memory.
He saw Marc take control and smile cautiously at him, saw Karen and Foggy seem to burst with joy at their achievement, saw the loving couples around him, and nothing but happiness filled him.
A tear of happiness rolled down his brown eye, causing the cheesiest scene he had ever experienced.
Karen and Steven are the first to hug. Foggy hugs him shortly after, the smile on his face tickling Peter's neck. Jessica and Luke hug him quickly, each giving a quick kiss on his flushed cheeks. Matt seemed embarrassed but still hugged Peter tightly, whispering congratulations in his ear. Frank was the last; still awkward, he pats Peter on the back before receiving an elbow to the ribs from his boyfriend. Huffing, he pulls Peter into a hug; he feels a smile forming on Frank's hard features, warming both their hearts.
“Thank you.” He finally says. “Thank you so much.”