STICKY FINGERS » peter parker

THIRTEEN

Bobby and Cami's relationship was strained and perhaps a relationship of convenience. The Seguró family and the Da Costa family had goings-on that was more than just business deals. And the missing people and drug inflation in New York could be because of a critical quid pro quo. Also, Cami was an incredibly stout, stone-cold bitch with the air of a high-complexioned Amazonian marquise and the glamour of a sorceress. 

In a flash, Peter got preoccupied with the sound of affectionately familiar laughter that twitched an instinctual smile on his lips. He narrowed his hearing toward the sound and listened to Clara Rose speak. He could see her now, and his face fell. 

"...good vibes, you and me. How does that sound?" Percy asked, his hand palming her face while the other held her inseparably close to him by the waist. Since when did they get in each other's pockets?

Clara Rose was grinning, too. Peter could get struck by Electro or get sat on by the Hulk, but nothing compared to the torture of seeing his should-be-girlfriend smile that darling crinkle-in-the-eye smile to another boy; even worse, the real Percy Da Costa. It almost invalidated him as a potential boyfriend.

"Sounds nice," Clara Rose muttered, her fingers twisting into his shirt to keep him near. And Percy—god, that manwhore—he'd done it. He'd gotten her to touch him without having to bat an eyelash. 

"Yeah?"

"As friends," she requested. 

"Anything," Percy laughed. 

When Peter began to storm toward them, he heard Percy's phone ding with a text. It was a subtle chime that he could pick up from around Percy and when he read the message, his spine stiffened. 

"Is everything okay? Pat?" Clara Rose asked. Her sweet concern tore a fissure through Peter's heart. If only she knew what a grade-A dickhead he was. 

"I... yeah," Percy hedged, turning off his phone. "I have to deal with something for a bit. Do you—"

"Do you want me to—"

"Leave, leave, leave, leave," Peter whispered to her, wishing she'd hear it.

Percy sighed and patted her cheek. "It's okay. I'll have someone take you home."

Oh, fuck a cactus! That's what his game was? Money? If Peter had the number of funds Percy did, he would've bought the entirety of New York for her. Why have one car when you can choose from the one point two million cars in the city?

"I can take the tram," she denied with a nervous laugh. "Besides, the cabfare is expensive at this hour."

Percy looked at her as if she'd just grown another head out of her ass. Peter decided that he'd had enough of this horrendous eyesore and started to close in on them on the dance floor. Percy had gone too far. 

"I meant my car," Percy explained slowly. "With a driver."

Her lips fashioned into an O. "Right. Because that's normal." She blinked the daze away. "It's fine. I'll be fine."

"Hey," Peter exclaimed over the loud music to get their attention. He looked straight at Clara Rose instead of anywhere else, watching her dark eyes pop wide in surprise. 

"Hey," she replied. 

"You're still here," he blurted, unable to think of anything through the flutter in his stomach and the haze of panic in his head. Why, why, why do I sound like an asshole?

Her shock morphed to vague dismay before it clouded with a lash of anger. "I guess I am."

Peter finally glanced at Percy with a twisted grimace, channelling all his irritation into that one look. Percy, out of Clara Rose's line of sight, smirked and made a lewd gesture with his fist and tongue.