when the hero comes to the one who believes in him¹

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"Phone is under the cabinet here," waving his hand to the landline that hadn't called since Aunt May died, the young man went to the kitchen. Ahead of him was cooking food, and then putting himself in order in order to appear before the eyes of Martha Connors in the best possible way.

Returning from the Connors' house, Peter thoughtfully wandered down the street, looking at the stars and reflecting on the vanity of life. Resting in the family of his beloved mentor, the guy noticed signs of problems with the health of the woman and the new passion of the professor, who again began to visit his old laboratory. Asking Billy, the brown-haired man only confirmed his conclusions and now he didn't even know what to do. The guy didn't want to lose people dear to him, which meant investigating and understanding what Kurt was so fascinated with, as well as understanding exactly what problems torment Martha. Last time it was cancer, but it was diagnosed in time, the doctors even allowed her to give birth, and if this time there is a remission, it will be much more difficult.

Sighing, Peter tried to put his thoughts in order and understand what to do next - he didn't really want to return home, now Van and Wade were basking in each other's arms, it was far to go to Hank's bar, and Mr. Stacey was at work, which and no wonder, because no one was waiting for him at home. So Peter was thinking about what he should do, stopping at the supermarket and checking the number of cigarettes in the pack - the remaining two were clearly not enough, which is why Peter went inside. An ordinary convenience store was striking in its emptiness - there were goods on the shelves, a salesman was standing behind the cash register, but there was no one inside, except for Peter himself, and after all, for the next three blocks, this was the only place where you could buy something at such a late hour. Going to the department where you could choose cigarettes, the guy began to look for his favorite Indians.

"Don't you dare press the button, grandpa, or I'll shoot you," a rough voice from the doorway made Peter pause, then carefully look around. Directly in front of the elderly salesman stood a robber holding a revolver and shaking an ordinary canvas bag. Sighing, Pete began to consider any object that could be used to discourage the bandit from shooting and then he saw someone else sneaking among the racks. Spider-sense screamed as if Fisk's entire sinister dozen was in front of the guy, but pulling himself together, he quietly and carefully moved to another place and picked up a can of canned food. First it was necessary to save the old man, and then deal with the one whom Peter had not yet seen. Sighing, concentrating on the task, the guy quickly got up, slightly brushing against the shelf so that the sound would attract the attention of the robber and threw a can at his body. Turning around, the failed robber only saw how a can of peas flew into his face, followed by a small projectile from another part of the store, sort of like a baseball hit the loser's balls.

"That sure hurt a lot," seeing the mugger crouch down, Peter looked over to where the painful blow had come from. Holding a can of beer and tossing a ball in her hand was a red-haired woman known to Spider-Man but completely unfamiliar to Peter. "I understand, fair lady, that it was difficult for you to hit him in the face, but why did you aim there?"

"Manifestation of male solidarity?" Chuckling, Romanoff looked at the salesperson. On the one hand, the man looked relieved, obviously rejoicing that he would not be robbed, but the blow that hit the most secret place of the robber, the man was clearly not happy, sympathizing with him. Sighing, the red-haired spy went towards the cash register. "Call the police, I think they'll be happy to arrest him, while we'll stay here as witnesses."

"It's weird, like we're not even dating yet, and I'm already being bossed around," Pete chuckled as he placed a pack of cigarettes on the table. "Will you calculate before the call? I want to smoke, and now it will take a long time to wait for the cops."

"Smoking is harmful," Natasha did not remain in debt, watching as the man quickly punches cigarettes, and at the same time dials the police number. Sighing, she also placed several cans of beer on the counter, as well as the baseball she was holding in her hand. "Anyway not a bad throw, are you baseball player?"

"Biology student," shrugging his shoulders, the guy decided to grab a cup of coffee and go outside. In the coolness of April, which strangely complemented the silence of the night, the lighter clicked, and the guy lit a cigarette. "Where are you from?"

"From Manhattan," with a snort, Romanoff tossed one of the cans to the boy. Shrugging, Pete put his cup of coffee on the ground and opened the drink, surprisingly there was no beer bitterness, although the drink was intoxicating, but quite sweet. "Only this store sells Straberry Lager at this time, so I just took a little detour before heading home. Threw the can pretty well, but aim better next time - if you hit him in the eye, it would come out."

"I actually wanted to hit the chest, the can was too light," Pete grunted and tried to smooth the moment, but Romanoff, looking at the guy with surprise, went up to him and squeezed his shoulder. "Hey, what are you doing?"

"You're pumped up," the spy said in surprise, completely ignoring the crazy guy. "And you clearly did not use chemistry, like all modern boys. Therefore, you did not notice that the jar turned out to be easier for you than it should have been. Are you sure you are a biology student?"

"I can show you my ID," snorting, the guy leaned over to Natasha's ear, inhaling the scent of perfume, mixed with the smell of gunpowder, blood and sweat. Spider sense howled, and Peter intercepting the girl's hand peered into the eyes of the redhead, while pressing her to him, that from the side it seemed as if they were embracing. It was in this position that the policemen who came to the call found them - Peter and Natasha looking eye to eye, hugging and holding beer in their hands. "Good evening, gentlemen. The robber is in the store, only I'm afraid he will need first aid."

"Cause of trouble?" the sergeant asked in a businesslike manner, pressing the radio to his lips.

"That lovely lady hit him in the balls with a ball," Peter Romanoff immediately surrendered. The grimacing policemen, who vividly imagined this pain, looked at the girl with condemnation.

"And this young gentleman hit him in the face with a can of canned peas," said Romanoff. She was also driven mad by the guy's unusual smell - the scent of body, cigarettes and something floral was so enticing that she swallowed involuntarily. Her mind screamed for her to pull her hand out of the unexpectedly strong, but at the same time very neat, one might even say, gentle grip, but her body, on the contrary, wanted to cling to the young man in order to feel the power that was hidden under the clothes. With a grunt, the two officers went inside the store, but Pete and Natasha, without looking up, looked into each other's eyes, slowly bringing their heads together for a kiss. But the sharp sound of a cell phone playing in Romanoff's pocket sobered them up, forcing them to recoil from each other. Natasha grunted and tried to hide her embarrassment by talking, but Peter, blushing, turned away and took a couple of sips of a sweet drink. There was a storm in his soul, exactly the same as in his head - he reproached himself for trying to kiss a girl, because he promised himself to be faithful to Gwen.

"No, Clint, don't meet me, I'm fine," Romanoff said, almost growling into the phone in frustration. On the one hand, she was grateful to Barton for interrupting her, and on the other, she quietly hated him for it, because this student beckoned her like sweet syrup to a fly. "Okay, I'll let you know as soon as I get there."

"Well, I have to go," the brown-haired man said softly, extinguishing the bull on the urn and throwing it away. "Good evening to you, redhead."

"Hey, how do you walk a girl home?" slightly surprised by the guy's behavior, Romanoff said, turning to Parker, but that was gone. Peter was still quite shy and didn't know how to act in such a situation, and the guilt towards Gwen ate him up.