Who's This?

19

Even though some days were horrible, Peter savored his time swinging in between buildings and over the tops of citizens' heads. The beautiful moon shining down on him, the stars dimmed from air pollution, and the wonderful sounds of angry drunk men all caused Peter to feel immense amounts of joy and adrenaline. While it may not sound great to some, he relished in the feeling of freedom and sleep deprivation.

After casually stopping an attempted murder, Peter swung onto one of the nearby rooftops where he had hidden his backpack. A few days ago he had webbed his bag to the wall and returned to it missing, so, he had decided it was time to find better places to hide it. Snatching his bag from behind an air conditioning unit, Peter plopped himself down onto the edge of the building and rummaged for his notebooks. He had done most of his homework in his classes already, but he still had to start and finish an English essay that was due in the morning.

Once he had gathered his notebooks, pencils, and anything else he could've possibly needed to write an essay, he began working. Since there weren't any light fixtures on the roof, Peter had to take off his mask and hold his cell phone in his mouth with the flashlight on, aiming it towards the currently blank pages. He needed both hands, so his mouth was the only open option to hold it.

While Peter wasn't necessarily bad at English, it definitely was not his strong point. It was his first language, and he had even written stories when he was younger, yet he still seemed to always struggle when it came to informative essays. Having to actually fact-check himself and cite his sources, being careful to not accidentally plagiarize, made writing a whole lot harder for him. If Peter could just make things up as he went, creating his own storyline and universe, his writing would be way more fluent and comfortable. But, oh woes him, he could not determine what was true and false in an essay about World War II.

Groaning, Peter struggled to think of an attention-grabbing hook. For the past five minutes, he had written and erased several horrible sentences, all semi-relating to Captain America. This is supposed to be about the war, not Steve Rogers. No one wants to read your fanboying, especially not the teacher. Deciding to just jot down a random hook for now, Peter wrote 'While World War II wasn't that great, at least we got Captain America out of it.' After feeling less than satisfied with that, Peter began attempting to write the rest of the essay. His teacher had given them plenty of time to experiment and draft their essays, but for some reason, Peter had decided it was a good idea to wing it the night before it was due.

Swinging his legs around off the edge of the building, much like a toddler in a chair too big for them, Peter allowed himself to zone out as his scribbling pencil filled the silence in his head. Even though this paper would be worth quite a large amount of his grade, he couldn't get himself to feel motivated to do a good job. He'd get a passing grade, of course, possibly even a 'B', but he wasn't going to put more effort than necessary into it.

After who knows how long of hopelessly writing, Peter was startled to feel a presence behind him. Quickly pulling his mask over his face, Peter sloppily threw his notebooks to the side and leaped to his feet, facing the intruder. Black Widow slowly walked towards him, being careful to not startle more than she already had. Peter narrowed his eyes at her, still unsure if she had an ulterior motive behind being nice. Even though she had done nothing the night she first found him, he still couldn't help but be wary.

"Hello, паук ребенок," She gently smiled, sitting herself down onto the cement roof. Peter watched as she leaned her back against the A.C unit, extending her legs so that they were stretched out completely. She was completely at ease, and it helped soothe Peter's worries.

"Hello, Ms. Black Widow," Peter gave her a small wave, hoping to come across as charismatic and confident even though he felt far from it.

"How are you?" She questioned, slightly tilting her head to the side. "Better than last time I hope."