a/n : okay y'all are out here reading I see you I see you
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SPENCER IS TRYING TO BE SOCIAL.
She really is, and yes, it's surprising! Very surprising. Usually, Spencer is the kind of person to hide from social interactions - hence, her phone being shut off practically all the time. But over the last few days, Spencer has come to enjoy the company of at least one of the twins and Peter. They're fun and funny and not usually bullying her.
And Spencer really enjoys being around other people, for once. Half of her thinks it's a new phase in her personality while the other half is convinced she just doesn't want to seem sketchy and alone.
Either way, Spencer is failing at being social.
She doesn't really get it? She'd been doing so well the past couple of days, but she just couldn't find Wanda or Peter or even Pietro. It's like they've gone missing or...
No. They wouldn't go anywhere without Spencer. Right? They brought her out to the city, after all, it's not like - enough. She's seen a blur inside of one of the most secluded labs, and Spencer broke into a run, reaching forward to yank the door open.
Peter nearly dropped the vial in his hand.
"Spencer!" he exclaimed, fumbling. "You scared me-"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Spencer responded immediately, swallowing hard. Maybe she was becoming a little too dependent on these people's company.
"No, no it's fine," Peter promised, setting the glass down on the table. "Um, what's up?"
Spencer hesitates because she doesn't know what to say.
"Well, I-I was just wondering where everyone was," she said, almost mumbling, and not daring to get away from the door frame. She was practically wrapping herself around it. "I didn't see you guys this morning."
The room got quiet. Worse than quiet, actually - silent. And Spencer thinks it's because of her immediately.
"Right, nevermind," she said, pulling away until Peter called out for her to stop.
"It's just," he stated, but stopped, and stared. "They're supposed to be back now. Your dad, Tony, Clint."
Spencer thought about this for a second. He's right because they were supposed to be back. Bruce called her last night to explain the same thing.
And Peter caved. "It's a bad day for them," he confessed. "For Wanda and Pietro - it's the day their parents died back in Sokovia, and usually, Clint's here to spend the day-"
God, Spencer was so selfish. She didn't even - all she could think about was having company, she never thought that...
"Oh my God," Spencer cut him off. "I'm so sorry, I didn't-"
"It's- they just like to be alone-"
"Yeah of course," Spencer agreed with a nod. "Right. I didn't - I'm sorry. I'm gonna go."
"Wait-" Peter called. Spencer turned around slowly. "You don't have to go. You could stay here. With me. I actually - I need some advice."
"Advice?" Spencer repeated.
Peter got red. Like red, red. He scratched at the back of his neck. "About girls. A girl," he corrected.
"The one you were on a date with," Spencer assumed, slipping into a seat by Peter.
Peter's eyes widened. "You knew about that?"
It suddenly dawned on Spencer that she might not have been meant to say anything. "Yeah, well," she shrugged off, and Peter just blinked a few times before nodding.
"Yeah it's about her," Peter said. "I need some advice."
Advice. Look, Spencer's not any good in the relationship aspect, but when she looks down at Peter, this small kid that was just staring at her like she had the answers to the entire universe, Spencer paused.
Full honesty? Spencer always wanted a little sibling. And she doesn't know what it is about Peter that makes her feel like she has to protect him or help him or whatever, but she feels it. When Pietro picks on him, Spencer cuts him off. And if he asks for advice on girls?
"Okay," Spencer said. "Um, go ahead, I guess."
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SPENCER SPENDS MOST OF THE DAY WITH PETER.
They ended up eating lunch together, and dinner. While Peter worked on his projects for Stark, Spencer spent the time working on her summer homework. They'd talk, once in a while, but eventually, Peter put on music over the speaker in the lab, and they just let it drown on as they worked.
But Peter had to go home, eventually. Some bodyguard named Happy Hogan - weird name, right? - was taking Peter home, and apparently, it was n0t good thing if Peter was at all late to meet him. So at 8:30, Peter was practically sprinting out of the lab, saying goodbye to Spencer.
And then she was alone. Again.
Spencer didn't know what was happening - she was never like this before. She's not the type of person to thrive on interaction, but here she was, feeling like she was experiencing withdrawal after three days of hanging out with a couple of people.
Her phone rang.
"Hello?" Spencer said, propping the phone up to her ear.
"Hey, Spencer."
"Hey, dad," She said, her pencil tip brushing over her calculus homework. "How's everything?"
"Good, good," he said, almost breathlessly. Spencer squinted. "Everything's good. How are you?"
"I'm fine," she promised, shuffling the phone around. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes, yeah, I'm fine," he promised, unconvincingly. "I should be back, soon - I wanted to apologize."
Spencer paused. "For what?"
"For everything," Bruce said. "I'm sorry for leaving suddenly - I know you didn't even want to visit, and that your mom pressured me-"
"Oh my God, Dad," Spencer mumbled. "Its... it's good that I visited. And you've got stuff to do. I get it. Really."
It's so much easier to talk to Bruce now. It's not because it's over the phone it's... it's just easier. Like there's no roadblock. No more giant cement walls separating them.
✰✰✰
IT'S TWO AM AND SPENCER IS TRYING TO FIND HER WAY TO THE KITCHEN.
It's mostly dark in the compound now, but the floor-to-ceiling windows let the moonlight through and Spencer is using it as a guide to the kitchens. She just wanted some water, really.
But the compound was eerie at night.
Half of her was just glad that the lights in this place weren't motion-activated, but the other half of her was on high alert. She didn't know why, there wasn't anything that was going to hurt her, here - this was practically the safest place on earth.
When she got to the kitchen, Spencer felt around for the light switch, squinting hard to make it out in the dark. She flipped on the light, grabbed a cup from the cabinet, and placed it underneath the running tap.
Then she looked up.
The cup fell from her hand - luckily, into the sink, and her hands shot to her chest as she nearly shouted in fear.
But then Spencer blinked a few times, the figure ahead of her coming into a person. It was still kinda dark, and Spencer had to squint.
It was Pietro.
"Shit, you scared me," Spencer mumbled, her hands still on her chest, her breathing erratic.
Pietro didn't respond right again, so Spencer looked back at him, more seriously. Mre focused.
His hand was cradled to his chest, bloody and cut up. The light caught on what Spencer assumed were a few glass shards, and just looking at it made her feel sick to her stomach. She tore her eyes away. Instead, she looked to his face. His cheeks were flushed. His eyes were red, bloodshot, even. Like he'd been awake too long.
And he was staring at her, critically. Like he was seeing something more concerning than his hand.
"Oh my God," Spencer rushed out, blinking back down at his hand, settling her palms on the counter. "A-are you okay?"
Pietro said nothing for another second.
"H-how did that happen?" she pressed, concerned by the lack of response, but realized she probably was going to get one, anyway. "Wh-what-"
"I thought," Pietro stated, his voice more like a croak than anything. Spencer looked up, but his eyes were scanning the room, off her again. "Bruce is supposed to be -"
Suddenly, Spencer can recognize the smell. Pietro is drunk. And from the look of his eyes and his cheeks and his entire face, he's really drunk. So drunk, he probably doesn't even know that Clint had sent him a message early saying that they wouldn't be back for another two days.
But Spencer doesn't feel like explaining this to a drunk Pietro. He barely listened to her when he was sober, and she was doubtful that this state would be any more helpful.
She reached for his hand.
He pulled back.
Spencer doesn't know whether to be offended or embarrassed or what, because she really was trying to help. She knew first aid, and even if she did want to puke at the sight of -
"No, you don't - you don't like blood," Pietro muttered, and Spencer stared at him.
"A-are there any medics on shift?" Spencer questioned, thinking back to the last time Pietro had come to her dad injured. He had mentioned other SHIELD agents being equipped-
"No," Pietro denied automatically, almost in a sneer. "Stark's men will not touch me."
Spencer hesitated. She knew what today was, she knew - but was Pietro aware that SHIELD was not actually owned or managed by Tony Stark?
It's hard to be logical when you're drunk, Spencer reminded herself, thinking back to her breakdown a few days prior.
She took a breath. "Sit down," she told him. "I'll be right back. I'm gonna get a first aid kit."
Pietro doesn't nod or anything, but he doesn't disagree, either - instead, he slipped into a stool mumbling something incoherent.
Spencer is 90% sure she's sprinting to the bathroom, but she can't remember much after she shuffled through the medicine cabinet in the unoccupied bathroom, grabbed the red kit, and ran back to the kitchen.
To her relief, Pietro was sitting at the table, but he had something in his non-wounded hand.
Eyes widened, Spencer reached over and grasped the bottle from his grip.
"Seriously, dude?" she half chided breathlessly, putting the nearly empty bottle of... something alcoholic out of his grip. "You're gonna get alcohol poisoning like that."
Pietro shook his head.
Spencer scoffed. "Yes, you will," she lectured, opening up the kit and pulling out the anti-infection spray, the cotton balls, and the tweezers.
"No," he said, seriously, not slurred. Spencer glanced at him. "My... my body will not let me. I can barely get like this."
Spencer considered this. It made sense - the guy did have a super-speed body which requires super-speed metabolism, so why wouldn't that mean the same for the consumption of alcohol? But if his body really does fight the effects of that fast then...
Then how much did he have to have to get like this?
She doesn't want to think about it, so she doesn't. Instead, Spencer quickly tucked her hair behind her ear and squinted.
She reached for his hand again, but Pietro pulled back.
They meet eyes again, and Spencer feels like she's falling.
"Glasses," he said, and Spencer peered at him. He narrowed his eyes. "Get your glasses," he rephrased. "I don't feel like being injured."
Getting red, Spencer blinked. She didn't even know he knew she wore glasses - only Bruce did, really, and she refused to wear them around here, anyway.
"Even when you're drunk..." Spencer started, but trailed off, shaking her head. She had to let the guy be - even if for just the night. She set down the tweezers.
But before she could move to go get her glasses, there was a streak of blue racing out of the room. And before Spencer's half-asleep brain could comprehend, her green glasses case clattered on the counter.
"Your bathroom counter," he offered, slipping back into the seat. "It hurts."
It took her a second to piece together the different sentences, but she quickly realized that Pietro wanted to speed this process on.
Spencer nodded, slipping on her glasses before letting her eyes adjust. Then she reached back for his hand.
The palm of his hand was the worst, and Spencer couldn't help the sinking feeling in her stomach as she pulled it over, facing it up. His skin was callous and rough but... warm. He was really warm, for some reason.
She could feel Pietro's blue eyes on her, which wasn't helping the fear.
Carefully, she took the tweezers, and started at the first piece of glass she could find, beginning to inch it out.
Pietro grimaced.
Spencer's eyes shot up to him, before looking back down.
She should say something - she knows that. Hearing every hitch in his breath and knowing that it hurt was not helping Spencer's already shaking hand.
So she took a breath.
"Peter told me about his girlfriend," she mentioned, not breaking her eyes from his skin, even when she felt his blue eyes on her. "The one he went on the date with," she added, picking at another piece of glass. "He's really funny about it. He's totally... he really likes her."
Pietro let out a "hm" which turned into a hiss.
Spencer cringed but continued talking. "He showed me pictures, too," she mentioned. "Really pretty."
Pietro let out a sound that was almost... a laugh?
"Really?" he asked.
Spencer pressed her lips into a line. She nodded. "Yeah. She's got perfect skin. Nice hair."
"Sounds familiar," Pietro mentioned, and Spencer peered up at him. "Like me," he offered.
Spencer feels something bubble in her chest - she let out a pathetic laugh. "Actually," she countered, "MJ has natural hair."
"MJ," Pietro muttered. "M...J."
The alcohol must have been betting his body's defense at this point, but Spencer was almost done, and she was trying not to look down at the bloody napkin with all the bloody glass shards.
Spencer felt sick, anyway.
So she started talking again.
"When I was a kid," she said, and Pietro shifted a little. Her grip tightened on his wrist. "I used to... used to think about superpowers. All-time," she admitted, sheepishly, like she was ashamed of it herself. "I wanted them, so bad. I never thought about... how they really worked."
Pietro stayed quiet.
Spencer felt kind of stupid, but she's only got a few more shards left, and so she started to ramble.
"It affects everything," she elaborated. "Everything. How you eat, how you sleep, how you... well, drink, I guess," she added, in a half mumble. "People glorify it a lot, but it's not like you ask for something like that-"
"I asked for it," Pietro interrupted. Spencer paused and stared up at him. "I asked for..." he started, regaining his words moments later. "I wanted to do something-"
He muttered something else after that, but Spencer can't understand it, but she knows it's probably a cuss word or two.
"You were trying to do the right thing," Spencer guessed, not sure if she was right, but hoping for the best.
"No, no," Pietro denied, and Spencer wanted to cuss herself out. "I did it for revenge. On the Avengers. On Stark..."
The last piece of glass.
Spencer could breathe again.
"You do what you have to do," she offered, not sure where the words came from or if she believed it, but it doesn't matter much because Pietro doesn't have the time to answer before his hand is burning after Spencer sprays anti-bacteria on him.
She moved for the cotton balls when she accidentally caught sight of the blood on the glass again, and the adrenaline was gone. She could feel something creeping up her throat.
Spencer grabbed at the garbage can, shoving the lid back against the hinges, and throwing her head over.
She puked. Bad. Embarrassingly bad considering there is a drunk, mourning superhero guy sitting right at the counter.
He's not at the counter, but there's the pressure the shape of a hand on Spencer's back. She doesn't look, because she's curled over, wishing she didn't suck this much at something that easy.
"I told you you didn't like blood," Pietro muttered, and Spencer lifted her head.
"Yeah," she said, coughing. "I'm aware."
Give or take another second before Spencer is over the can again, but the pressure on her back doesn't move. Pietro doesn't move.
Finally done, Spencer pulled away from the can, breathing heavily.
She turned around on her knees to see Pietro on the floor next to her, back against the counter.
She wiped her lips on the back of her arm. She knows it's gross, but she can't think straight, and the hand on her back is on her shoulder and is pulling her against the counter, propping her up.
Spencer breathed. She tried to get it even. The two of them stay silent for a moment, just rhythmic breathing and hands either pressed into the cold tile or cradled carefully. She let her head hit the wood of the cabinets, trying to gulp in breaths.
After a few minutes, Pietro turned to her.
"You would be a terrible doctor."
Spencer laughed. Oh my God, she can't help it, she just laughs. A full-hearted, astonished laugh where she practically curled into herself trying to hide it. And Pietro is staring at her with a grin, and she doesn't even realize because she's laughing so hard, she's surprised she's not the drunk one.
"I would," she agreed. "I would, and it's so pathetic-" she cut herself off with a long breath, still rushed for no reason at all. "Are you okay?" she asked, more seriously.
Pietro shrugged.
A few more moments passed before he started to stand up. Spencer watched as he did - the guy was nearly drunk, but besides holding on to the counter for support, he didn't even stumble.
When he's fully up, he offers a hand to Spencer.
"You should go," he said, and Spencer clasped her hand in his, trying not to pull him down too much. He was still drunk. "To bed. It is late."
"Same to you," she mumbled, wiping her hands on her sweatpants nervously. Pietro nodded. "I'm sorry," Spencer said.
She means for everything, really. For his parents. For being rude when she said something a week ago. For not being better at trying his wounds. For puking up the entire contents of her stomach in front of him.
Pietro nodded, and his hand pressed to her back again, like he's half afraid she's gonna fall or something. She's not even the drunk one.
But then there's a blur. He's gone, and Spencer stands there for a second, alone.
Then she throws out the bottle she took from Pietro, and shut off the lights, heading back to her room.