When I arrive back at the rental apartment that we booked ourselves into for just short of three average people's monthly salary, the boys are playing video games in front of the TV. I announce that I'm back and am met with grunts in response. It's a quiet blessing, literally. I push the button on the bottom of my computer screen and it illuminates my face. Even though I know what to expect my breathing hitches at the sight of it. I took the long walk home, it tends to be something I do whenever I have an impromptu meeting with Peter Parker. It takes me a little longer to clear my head when he's around, especially under such tense circumstances. I'm not unaware of the fact that he is the type of man that the poets would probably describe to be like a sunrise, warm and light, but for me he is the mist that settles over the grass just before the morning breaks. My stomach growls as it finally realises that I haven't eaten all day. Everything around me has moved forward, including the clocks, and yet I'm still here.
The next morning I find myself sprawled between the satin sheets of London's most luxurious airbnb. Mine is the biggest bedroom, although sixty percent of that is now acting as a closet. You'd think as someone who works with a very specific uniform, my clothing buying habits would be limited, but designer labels become all the less intimidating when you can just swipe them off and not travelling with my wardrobe in its entirety makes me nauseous. Bruno and Boris are still glued to the TV when I get up and whether they ever paused to sleep is a mystery I have no interest in solving. Only this time, instead of partaking in a zombie apocalypse, they're watching the news.
"Turn it down."
I wince as the subtitles roll. What is up with every news station trying to prove it's more worthy than the others by making their intros as brash as humanly possible? The coffee pot in the open plan kitchen is empty, obviously, but there are cans of energy drink scattered like decorations on a christmas tree. I try to pick one up but it's leaked from the bottom and stickily cemented itself to the counter.
"And clean up your filth."
"Might wanna see this first boss."
I make an overdramatic tutting sound by smacking my tongue to the roof of my mouth and then pulling it away. Boris shuffles up into the corner of the charleston leather sofa but I pretend not to notice his advances and take the arm chair instead. I tap my fingers onto the leather reminding myself to book in a manicure ASAP.
Sure enough, as the news reporter in a too tight suit and tie reels off the headlines for the hour, one sticks out like a sore thumb.
"Reported sightings of Spiderman in the capital city. Should civilians be worried for their safety?"
The headline is matched with a grainy picture, in the centre is a splattering of red and blue perched on what looks like the flat roof of an apartment complex somewhere. I can't see people buying it for very long though with a picture like that, not given the technology we have access to these days. The only unsettling part is that I know more than anyone how true this could be, and the exact reason behind it, but he only told me about it yesterday? Even superheroes don't get to work that quickly, right?
YOU ARE READING
The Heart Stone - Black Cat x Spider Man
FanfictionI've never been one for love, but if I were I have always had a slight inkling that my desire for devotion would lead me into the arms of one man. Spiderman.
