Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

        “Hey, Parker.” Peter was instantly confused. Was that really Flash saying his name in a calm, friendly voice, or was it an alien shapeshifter taking on Flash’s form to get him to lower his guard?

       Nah, Peter decided. Even an alien would be able to see that Flash only ever put his guard higher up. So was this a trick? Did Flash want something?

     “Earth to Peter,” Flash tried, waving his hand in front of Peter’s frozen face.

     That did it. Flash never used his real name in such a pleasant tone. Peter leapt backwards, making Flash start.

       “Who are you, and what did you do with Flash?!” He accused, hand sneaking back to his bag, where he kept his suit.  

      “Parker, what the hell? We've literally gone to school together for, like, years. Don't be weird, dude.”  

        Peter shivered with fear. “I'm not being weird. You're being weird. Really weird. You haven't called me ‘penis’ once this whole conversation.”

       Flash laughed. “Oh, that's just a little joke between friends. A nickname is all.”

       Peter narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What do you want?”

     “Michelle said you have kittens.”

      The conversation had taken such a weird turn that Peter was speechless.  

      “You want a kitten?”  

       Flash shushed him. “No need to alert the whole school, gods.”

       Judging by how loud the cafeteria was, that didn't seem likely. Peter was further baffled.

     “What, are you self-conscious now?”

      When Flash didn't reply, Peter laughed disbelievingly. “Ok, man, you can have a kitten. Her name is Leia; she’s sort of litter trained.”    

      Flash smiled. “Great, I'll meet you outside after class.” He left.

     “Wait, what?” Peter called, but he was already gone. He turned to look at Ned, who was standing beside him in the lunch line, gaping. “You know what he meant?”

       Ned shook his head, never quite closing his mouth.

       True to his word, Flash was at his locker when he got there. He politely moved out of Peter’s way to let him access his things, and then silently followed Peter home, making the entire commute unnecessarily awkward.

       Peter unlocked his apartment door, mentally regretting that Flash-- of all people-- now knew where he lived.

      “Where’s your aunt?” Flash asked curiously, peeking around the cozy space as though she might pop out from behind the furniture.

       “Working. Kittens are this way.”

        They stood quietly, watching the kittens play in their little pen area (which Peter and May had made carefully for them a few nights after he'd brought them home) for several long, uncomfortable minutes before Peter gently scooped Leia up and handed her to Flash.

       “I'm trusting you with this small, furry nugget of goodness because even though you're a jerk, I don't think you're a bad guy. So treat her well.”

       Flash raised a brow and rolled his eyes but nodded (all at once, which gave a very odd effect). Peter scooped some kitten feed into a plastic bag for him and sent him on his merry way.

       Then he grabbed some popcorn and turned on the TV. It didn't take him long to find the right channel. 

       “And last night a local boy became--and these are his own words-- the very first person to formally interview Spider-Man.” Peter smirked.

      “Now, Jan, that is--”

      “It's Jen, actually.”

      “That's great, Jen. I'm sure everyone really cares.”

     “Maybe not, Bill, but you know who would care?”

     “Can I have three guesses?”

      “No.”

      “Does that mean--”

      “I was talking about Spider-Man, Bill. Spider-Man would care.”

      “What makes you say that, Jen?”

      “The video we’re about to show everyone,” Jen said, turning to face the camera and wiggle her eyebrows dramatically. Peter giggled and choked on a popcorn kernel.

      “You're not funny, Jen. Nobody laughed at that.”

      “I bet Spider-Man laughed at that,” she countered. Peter’s eyes widened.

       “How did she know?” He whispered in awe, tossing some more popcorn into his mouth.

      “Look, I just have to provide some comedic relief here, because this video? It could make people cry. We all know and love Spidey for his humor and ridiculous optimism and positivity, right? And for being heartbreakingly adorable, which is honestly enough to move me to tears.”

        “And all that's in this video?” Bill asked skeptically. Peter felt the same, but he was blushing nonetheless.

        “Yep. All that. But what's more, Spidey gets real. Deep. For one or two moments. That’s where I really cried.”

       “Alright,” Bill accepted, suddenly a little more serious. “So what I'm getting from this is that we're advising just the slightest bit of viewer discretion?”

     “Yes,” Jen answered immediately. Peter wiggled with excitement, even though nothing was really happening yet. “More than that, we’re advising viewer sensitivity. This is a real interview, and Spider-Man is a real person under that mask. He knew what he was doing when he put on that suit, and he's got a lot going on behind those big bug eyes. So when viewers watch this interview, I want them to really consider what Spider-Man does for this city, what he gives up for it, and why he does all this. It's pretty amazing.”

       Peter nearly swooned. He was sure his face was bright red.

      “Speaking of amazing, the kid that conducted this interview is cool.”

       “Really cool,” Peter mumbled to himself in agreement.

       “His name’s Erik Marner. He’s thirteen, and he says his goal in life is to be a reporter and journalist. The respectable kind who tell it like it is.”

       “So not us?”

       “Not us.”

        Peter laughed.  Again.

       “But enough of that. We've talked about things enough. I want to see this video. I want the people watching to see this video. I want the world to see this video.”

       And with no further introduction, the video popped up.

      The picture was dark and grainy, but Peter could see it was being taken from the same rooftop where he’d met Erik. The camera turned slightly so that Erik’s face was in the picture.

      “Alright,” Erik whispered. “I've done my research. Spider-Man’s been reported on this roof no less than 30 days in the past year. That might not sound like a lot, but it's the most frequently he's visited any one secluded place. I need to catch him somewhere where we can conduct the interview in private. This is my best option. Tonight is my 20th try in a row of coming out here. Maybe I'll get lucky.”

        The video stopped and then showed another clip. A blurry figure swung through the sky. Spider-Man. Erik was whispering into the camera, freaking out.

        “Okay, okay, be cool. It's just Spider-Man, no big deal. Nothing weird about that. He might not even come up here-- oh my gosh, he's coming up here! This is the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

        Peter laughed, reminded of his own videos from Germany. The universe was weird.

       The full video wasn't shown, just several highlights, and then at the end, after Spider-Man had swung away:

       “He's so much better looking in person,” Erik sighed. “Crap, now I have to edit that out. Anyway… there you have it, folks. At the end of the day, Spidey’s just like us… or so he claims. Personally, I don't know a lot of people with hearts that big. He's a real hero, and he doesn't even know it. Feel free to leave comments on my blog! Unless you don't like Spidey, then you can go-”

       The clip cut off.

      “What a dedicated youngster-” Jen was saying, but Peter turned the TV off and laughed to himself. He was tempted to look online and see what people had said about it, but he thought that might be a little vain. Besides, he was sure Ned would tell him all about it.

       So instead of obsessing over himself on the Internet, he went out. As Peter Parker. And because he had such great memories of the spot, he visited the First National Bank.

       It was mostly empty, except there were Ricky, Shannon, Joe, and the others in their group, talking to Michelle, who was working.

       They all glanced up at him as he came in, then dismissed him immediately. He sighed internally. Most people tended to do that, and it was for the best. Didn't mean his pride wasn't stung.

     ‘Why are they always here when I am?’ He pondered, to distract himself. ‘Do they just love the bank or something?’

       Peter could understand that. He loved banks too, when they gave out tootsie rolls.

      Speaking of which… there, on the counter--- under a sign that said, “BY RECOMMENDATION OF SPIDER-MAN, AS A THANK-YOU FOR SAVING OUR VALUED CUSTOMERS---” was an enormous bowl of tootsie rolls. The good kind, not the weird fruit ones.

     “YES!” He shouted, pumping his fist triumphantly and racing toward the bowl, where he proceeded to grab exactly three (he didn't want to be a hog, but they were technically there for him, so. Three seemed reasonable.)

        He realized abruptly that his friends (who didn't know they were his friends) were glowering at him. Michelle’s head was buried in her hands.

      “Er, I'm sorry. That was… quite rude. I'll just… be going.”

       And he grabbed one more piece of candy to compensate for his frazzled nerves. He was actually out the door and a block down the street when he had the epiphany.

       His friends really were always there. At that bank. And Garcia had said something about some customers having possible gang affiliations….

      Peter ran all the way back, pushed the door halfway open, and leaned in to ask: “Hey, quick question before I get out of your hair-- are you guys, like, gang people or something?”

      Everybody pulled a gun. All at once. Including Michelle. Peter put his hands up, and it occurred to him belatedly that he should have thought this one through.

      “Uh, aren't there, like, cameras or something?” Peter asked eloquently.

     “That won't matter if I loop them,” Michelle informed him confidently. He gulped and tried again.

       “I'm too young and nerdy to die?”

        Ricky looked at Shannon for help, but she was clearly just as confused. Emboldened by that response, Peter continued.

       “Nobody will believe me over you? Not that I'll tell anybody, no worries there. I have an aunt? I'm her only family left? Can't leave a poor old lady all alone in the world. Okay, so she's not old. But I wish she was, cuz everybody hits on her. But then I wouldn't have so much time left with her so maybe not. Ummm, I'm talented and beautiful and have a lot to offer the world? Yeah. You can't ruin that. And these are good clothes, and bullet holes would ruin that.”

        Joe coughed. “Ah, kid--”

        But Peter was on a roll. “I work for Tony Stark. I swear, it's true! And his head of security, Happy, I check in with him every day. So he may or may not hate me, but he'd still have to tell Mr. Stark if I were dead. And then Mr. Stark would come after you, either through lawsuits or with IronMan. I'm not sure which is scarier or more appropriate to the situation. And I've got a kitten at home, you know, who's going to care for her if I'm gone? Okay, so Aunt May would probably do that, or MJ or Ned or Mr. Stark or maybe even Flash. But it's the principle of the thing! And my parents already died and my uncle, so it's not like us Parkers have a great track record for this sort of thing, but I was actually hoping to not make it any worse.”

      “Hey, brat--” Ricky cut in, but Peter once again kept on steamrolling.

     “That's another thing! I'm not a brat! I'm a good kid, mostly! My grades are alright, I'm nice, I do my chores, I follow the rules usually sometimes. Yeah, I come home late and lie about where I've been, but it's for a good cause! And something else, the bank just started giving out tootsie rolls, and I haven't even eaten any yet. This really just isn't a good time for you to end things for me, you know. I've got a lot to live for--”

       “Spider-Man?” Shannon asked incredulously. Peter fell silent abruptly in a way that was definitely NOT suspicious and attempted to seem casual.

       “Who? Never heard of him. I mean, I've heard of him, obviously, he's fantastic. But I've never, like, heard of him. Why, what about him?” Peter’s voice got squeakier and higher pitched the longer he spoke, so he cleared it.

       “No way,” Joe mumbled. Michelle dropped her gun.

     “Baby, this kid’s about twelve,” Ricky muttered to his fiancée.

      “No, I'm several years older than that, actually,” Peter corrected helpfully.

      Shannon snorted. “It's him, Ricky. Just trust me on this. It's very obviously him.”

       “Uh, it's very obviously not,” Peter informed her. "Red and blue would clash with my aesthetic." She shook her head and tucked her weapon back into her purse.

      “Oh my gods. Spider-Man’s a pre-teen,” Ricky concluded, looking lost.

      “I'm not twelve!” Peter exclaimed, throwing his hands up exasperatedly.

      Nobody responded.