The next day, Peter was still doing everything in his power not to interact with me. He had utterly dismissed May's attempts at breakfast to talk to him, grabbing a piece of toast and running out the front door, leaving me to walk to school on my own. I saw him in the hallway a few times throughout the day and tried to talk to him. Each time he quickly turned around and walked in the opposite direction. It wasn't until after school that he finally acknowledged my existence.
I was sitting outside at a table, laughing at something Flash had said to Gwen about their class earlier. Peter slowly approached the table, avoiding everyone's eye contact as he slid onto the seat next to Gwen. He had his hood pulled up, trying to cover his face. He crossed his arms, slouching forward onto the table.
"Jesus, Parker," Flash exclaimed, his eyes growing wide. "What the hell happened to you?
Gwen instinctively turned to examine him, pulling back his hood to reveal the bruises coloring his face. "Peter," she whispered, lightly tracing the marks.
"It's fine," he shrugged, shaking his head as he lifted his hood back up. He wrapped his jacket tightly around his body.
I couldn't help but notice the bruises were now a brown-green color, looking like they were a few days old rather than only a few hours. Shouldn't they still be purple?
"Do we need to go after someone?" Flash asked, leaning across the table toward Peter, and glancing back at me for approval. "Just give me a name, Parker."
"Flash," I sighed, placing my hand on his arm. I shook my head.
"What?" Peter exclaimed, pulling his eyebrows together. "No," he exhaled, shaking his head. "No, I just- I, uh, fell."
"You fell?" Gwen questioned skeptically, her voice growing louder.
"Y-yeah," Peter shrugged, chewing on his lower lip. "I, uh, fell off my skateboard."
"Skateboarding accident, huh?" Gwen scoffed, shaking her head.
"Yep," Peter nodded, pressing his lips together. He clapped his hands, raising his eyebrows as he turned to look at me. "Hey, Em. Nice article. I read it today. Is that what you were working on last night?"
Marvelous attempt at deflecting. I glared at Peter, trying my best to calm myself before speaking to him. "I didn't know you were aware I was even there when you got home," I stated, rolling my eyes as I crossed my arms.
Peter closed his eyes, tilting his head to the side. "Yeah, you were, uh, you were typing at the kitchen table when I, uh..." he trailed off, tapping a few times on the table. "Anyway, yeah it was great," he nodded, sighing. "H-how did you get the information for the story?"
"I went to Harlem and got quotes from some eyewitnesses on the scene," I stated blankly, continuing to glare at him.
"Did anyone from your office go with you?" he questioned, furrowing his eyebrows.
"No," I said slowly, tilting my head.
"My girlfriend's a real reporter," Flash beamed, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, and shaking me excitedly.
The sudden interruption broke my glare at Peter, causing me to smile at the compliment. I looked up at Flash, shaking my head at his passion.
"It really was great," Gwen smiled, nodding her head. She bit her lip, rising her eyebrow. "Although my dad wasn't too happy about it," she giggled, closing her eyes. "But that's beside the point."
"Thanks, Gwen," I laughed, shaking my head at the comment about her dad.
"You went to Harlem alone last night?" Peter asked, leaning forward slightly.
I nodded my head, pulling my eyebrows together as I looked at him.
"By yourself?" he questioned, his voice growing louder. "At night?"
"Yeah," I said slowly, nodding.
"Shit, Emerson," he snapped, shaking his head. "You shouldn't do that!"
"I made it there and back just fine," I stated, rolling my eyes. "I texted May the entire time. She knew where I was."
"Doesn't matter," Peter exclaimed, shaking his head as he lowered it to the table. "That's not safe. What if something happened to you?"
"Nothing happened, Peter," I scoffed. "But if you want to talk about being safe, we can gladly talk about where-"
"That's not the point, Em," he yelled, exhaling loudly.
"I'm with Parker on this one," Flash nodded, motioning with his head toward Peter. His eyes were wide with concern. "Why didn't you ask one of us to go with you?"
I shook my head, letting out a quick breath of air from my mouth. "Because I can take care of myself," I shrugged, "I've been doing it for years. And it was late."
"I don't care if it was late," Flash said, leaning in toward me. He grabbed my hand, rubbing circles on my skin. "I would have gone with you."
"It was a last-minute thing," I explained, shaking my head. "It's really not that serious. I've been navigating this city on my own since I was a kid."
"I know," Peter exhaled, resting his arm on the table. "It's just different when it's at night."
"Look," Gwen interjected, placing her hand on Peter's arm. She glanced between Peter and Flash, raising her eyebrows. "You're both concerned for her safety. I get that. But you don't need to yell at her because you're scared," she explained, shaking her head as she nudged Peter's shoulder.
"Thank you," I mouthed at Gwen, grinning.
She closed her eyes, nodding once. "And who knows," she added, shrugging her shoulders. "If something would have happened to her, maybe that guy in the suit would have stepped in and helped."
Flash considered her point, tilting his head as he raised his eyebrows. "What are we calling him now that he isn't just some dude running around in a mask?" he asked, shaking his head.
"Good question," I sighed, laughing to myself. "Jameson is insisting on calling him Spider-Menace." I raised my eyebrows, shaking my head. "He almost put that in today's headline."
"Why spider?" Gwen asked, laughing.
"He, uh," I stammered, thinking as I pointed to my chest, drawing an imaginary circle. "He has a spider emblem on his chest apparently."
"Cool," Flash exhaled, leaning back.
"I guess," I stated sarcastically, lowering my eyebrows. "I don't know, it's just weird. All of a sudden this guy is running around in spider tights? We aren't even sure if it's the same person."
"So, is that what you're calling him then?" Peter asked quietly, nodding toward me. "Spider-Menace?"
"I don't know," I laughed, shaking my head. "I'm sure we'll come up with something better than that. But for now, I guess, yeah. I can't exactly control what Jameson prints."
"Spider-Guy," Flash added, his voice sounding dramatic.
"Spiderling," Gwen laughed, shaking her head.
"The Flying Spider," I yelled, throwing my head back laughing.
Peter brought his hand up to his mouth, biting on his nail. He nodded several times and grimaced like he was in pain. "Those are terrible," he mumbled, which caused the three of us to laugh even harder.
"I wonder if people will start dressing up as him for Halloween," Gwen grinned, biting back a smile.
"Guess we'll find out in a few days if we start seeing a bunch of Spiderlings wandering around town," I chortled, snorting at the thought. "Your dad will be so confused if that happens."
"Oh shit," Flash exclaimed, leaning forward on the table. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I totally forgot that's this weekend. Charlie's having a party, we should go," he nodded, making eye contact with me.
"I don't know, Flash," I said hesitantly, shaking my head. "I don't think that would be a good idea. It's not really my scene. Plus, what if I get called in to work?"
"Oh shoot," Gwen yelled, jumping up from her seat. She grabbed her backpack, swung it over her shoulder, and started to walk away. She quickly turned around, realizing she didn't say goodbye. She motioned with her hands in front of her, pointing to her watch. "I'm going to be late. I should have left ten minutes ago for Oscorp."
Peter looked up at her, nodding his head as he slid out from his spot at the table. "I'll walk you," he said, lowering his head.
"Hey, Gwen," Flash called after her as she started to walk away. "You should come on Saturday."
She raised her eyebrows, smiling as she nodded a few times anxiously while she waited for Peter to catch up with her.
"Uh, you, too, Parker," Flash added, nodding at Peter.
Peter inhaled sharply, turning around to face Flash. He pulled his lip between his teeth, looking down at where Flash was sitting, and nodded his head slowly, unamused. He let out a long sigh, closed his eyes, and then turned on his heels to follow Gwen.
"It'll be fun," Flash assured. A boyish grin was plastered on his face as he leaned in toward me.
"I don't know," I sighed, shaking my head. "Parties aren't really my thing."
"Well have you ever been to one?" he asked, smiling as he raised his eyebrows.
"No," I said quietly, lowering my gaze.
"Well then how do you know that you won't like it?" he laughed, shaking his head.
I closed my eyes, laughing quietly. "I don't have a good answer for you," I stated.
"Well," he said slowly, turning so he was straddling the bench seat. "Then you should come," he teased, moving his head slightly.
"I don't think I can leave May alone," I sighed, shaking my head.
"What?" Flash asked, pulling his eyebrows together as he lowered his head. "What do you mean?"
"I don't- it's the first holiday since Ben passed," I shrugged, staring straight ahead at the table. "I don't want her to be alone. The four of us would always dress up in these ridiculous costumes and hand out candy to the kids in the neighborhood."
"That's cute," he laughed, biting back a smile.
I glared at him, rolling my eyes.
"No," he chuckled, grabbing my hand. "It is. I think it's sweet that you still dress up."
"Shut up," I mumbled, blushing as I smiled. "I just figured May would want to continue our candy tradition this year. I just don't want her to be by herself that night."
He lifted my hand to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on my knuckles. "I understand," he whispered, smiling as he placed another kiss on my skin. He sighed, bringing his other hand to rest on top of mine, patting it gently. "I'll still send you the address in case you change your mind."
~ ~ ~
After school, I made my way to The Bugle. I technically didn't have to go in today since I got my hours in last night but still wanted to stop by and get to know some of the other reporters. We spent a few hours joking around and exchanging stories. It was so helpful to hear tales of their first few weeks on the job. Everyone had similar stories: late nights, little to no sleep, living off of the pure adrenaline high from chasing a story, and of course, their anxiety about disappointing our fearless leader.
They all assured me that I was doing a good job covering the crime section while Jameson continued to look for a replacement. Eleanore admitted she wasn't sure why it was taking so long and explained that Jameson was usually on top of hiring people. She said he didn't even have any interviews scheduled on his calendar, which was very out of character. Someone suggested he must like me, which made the entire office break out in laughter, knowing that Jameson was not fond of anyone.
We also discussed the recent developments of the spider vigilante. Everyone had their thoughts on what to call him, myself included. We kept throwing out the most ridiculous names, including the one Flash and Gwen had each shared at lunch earlier. A few people seemed to like the name Flying Spider as a top contender for what to call our mystery-masked crime-stopping man. I was having such a good time goofing around with everyone, that I didn't even notice the sun had already set.
I sighed, looking out the window near my desk, watching as the city continued to burst with life on the street below. I pulled out my phone, sending the same text to Flash, Peter, and May, letting them know that I was leaving work and would be home soon. I didn't expect a response from Flash, knowing he was at practice tonight and wouldn't be able to walk home with me.
"You heading home for the night?" Eleanore asked, walking over to my desk, and watching as I gathered my things.
"Yeah, I think so," I nodded, taking one last glance out the window. I smiled to myself before turning to look up at her. "I'll never get tired of this view," I confessed, shaking my head.
"It's pretty great," she agreed, smiling sweetly. "I should be leaving here within the hour. If you want to wait, I can walk with you for a few blocks," she offered.
"Oh," I exhaled, closing my eyes. "That's okay," I declined, shaking my head. "I'll be okay. It's not that far of a walk. Thank you for offering though." I finished packing my belongings and started to make my way toward the exit, waving before I walked into the hallway that led to the elevator.
I walked out the front doors of the building, shivering at the frigid air, zipping up my coat to my neck. I adjusted my beanie, making sure it wouldn't blow off from the stinging wind that was blowing in my face, and started walking in the direction of my house.
I couldn't help but admire the pools of yellow light reflecting on the sidewalk from the streetlights. This route, although a bit of a hike, was one of my favorites. It was always so mesmerizing to watch the lights dance across the city, blinking in the dark sky. The sun might have gone to rest, but the city was still erupting with energy.
My quiet, content moment was suddenly interrupted by a loud thud, followed by the sound of someone's footsteps following closely behind me. I inhaled anxiously, increasing my pace as I rounded a corner, looking both ways to make sure the path was clear before running across to the other side of the road.
I stepped onto the sidewalk, looking over my shoulder. I could still hear the faint sound of footsteps and quickly turned around to check my surroundings. A low whisping sound came from somewhere up above, causing my attention to turn to the sky. I didn't see anything and decided it was safe to continue walking home. I took a step forward, quickly jumping back as someone landed in front of me.
"Hey," a familiar, friendly voice sang.
"Fuck," I screamed, grabbing my chest in fear as I took a few steps away from the person.
"Sorry," a man wearing a red and blue skin-tight bodysuit called, throwing his hands up in front of him. "Sorry sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to-" he shook his head, clearing his throat. The mask that covered his face shifted with the movement. "I'm sorry," he sighed, his voice sounding deeper when he spoke. He lowered his hands as he took a step toward me. "I shouldn't have-"
"You really shouldn't sneak up on someone at night like that," I scolded, shaking my head in frustration. Who the hell does this guy think he is?
"I know, I know," he groaned, turning his head from side to side. "I'm sorry, really. I'm sorry. That was stupid," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "I just wasn't sure how to, you know, make an entrance."
"And so you chose to sneak up behind me?" I exclaimed, moving my arms in frustration as I pulled my eyebrows together. "What the hell?"
"Noted. Bad choice," he chuckled, gesturing with his head toward the ground. "Sorry. I'm sorry."
"It's okay," I sighed, shaking my head. "Just don't do that again."
"Got it. Yep," he nodded, dramatically. He brought his hand to his chest, bowing slightly. "I will make my presence known next time."
I attempted to catch my breath as I examined his appearance.
His suit covered every inch of his body, shielding his skin from the elements and any wandering eyes that might try to recognize him. There was nothing to help identify him other than the red and blue fabric. The material hugged his body in all of the right places, highlighting his perfectly sculpted muscles.
There was a giant black spider etched into the middle of his suit, spreading out across his chest. The legs extended into thin black lines that spread across the fabric, almost giving it the appearance of a web. His mask was connected to the suit, the web design covering the entirety of his face. There were two dark, reflective bug-eyed-shaped pieces of glass covering the spot where his eyes should be.
"What do you want?" I asked, studying my reflection in his eyes.
"Huh?" he asked, tilting his head. "Oh! Um, you're the journalist for The Bugle, right?" he asked, nodding his head. "The one who's been writing about me?"
"How could you possibly know that?" I asked skeptically, furrowing my eyebrows.
"Um, I uh," he stammered, looking from side to side as he thought. "Well I, um, saw you the other night on the bridge, talking to the cops after I, uh-"
"After you escaped nearly forty officers chasing after you?" I suggested, crossing my arms as I stared at him.
"Yeah," he laughed quietly, bringing his gloved hand up behind his head.
"You were there?" I questioned, tilting my head.
He nodded his head several times. "I was, yeah," he stated.
I shook my head, confused. "Why?"
"I was, uh, just watching to see what they would do," he shrugged, looking curious. "And- and I saw you there, taking notes," he explained, gesturing toward me. "I heard you talking to some other reporter and you mentioned working for The Bugle."
"Okay," I said slowly, narrowing my eyes. "So what do you want?"
"Nothing," he exclaimed, waving his hands in front of him as he shook his head. "I just- I, uh, read your article today."
I inched my head forward, furrowing my eyebrows. "And?"
"And," he laughed, shaking his head. "I don't think you guys like me very much there," he explained, pointing back toward the building that housed The Bugle.
I sighed, shaking my head as I closed my eyes. "It's not me who doesn't like you," I explained quietly. "It's my boss, really. I promise. The article I sent to him early this morning was not that critical."
"It- it wasn't?" he asked, tilting his head as he examined me.
"No, it wasn't," I exhaled.
He straightened his head as if he was thinking. "S-so you're a fan of mine?" he asked, hesitantly.
"I didn't say that," I corrected, laughing.
"Yeah, that's fair," he nodded, sounding slightly disappointed.
I couldn't help but smile at his friendly demeanor. "Did you need something?" I asked, shaking my head.
"What?" he asked, his head snapping up to look at me. "Oh yeah!" he nodded, lifting his finger into the air. "If you are going to run my name through the dirt, you could at least do me a solid and get my name right," he laughed, shaking his head.
"You have a name?" I asked, taking a step toward him, intrigued.
"Of course, I have a name," he scoffed, lifting his shoulders. "Everyone has a name."
I crossed my arms, rolling my eyes. "Obviously," I mumbled. "Okay, so what's yours? George or something?"
"What?" he screeched, his laughter filling the street. He bent forward, shaking his head. "No," he sighed, holding his side. "Spider-Man."
"Spider-Man?" I questioned, my nose crinkling.
"Mmhm," he nodded, crossing his arms as he leaned against a light post.
I stared at him for a few moments, processing what he was saying. I bit my lip, shook my head, and started laughing. "I'm not gonna lie," I chuckled, "I was kind of hoping you were about to come clean about who you actually are," I exhaled. "Not give me some made-up superhero name."
"I'm not," he protested, throwing his hands out in front of him. "No," he stated, shaking his head. "Not a superhero. Just a guy."
"Just a guy?" I asked skeptically, raising my eyebrow and tilting my head.
"Yeah, yeah yeah," he mumbled, nodding his head frantically. "Just a- just a guy."
"Who calls himself Spider-Man?" I laughed, shaking my head.
"Is it- is that a bad name?" he asked, pushing himself off the lamppost. He took a few steps toward me, his body language indicating he was concerned. "Should- should I call myself something else?"
"No. The name's fine," I assured, biting back a smile. "I just- why are you telling me this?"
"You're the one who writes about me, aren't you?" he asked, tilting his head. He took another step closer, looking down at me.
"I might be," I swallowed, looking up at him.
"Okay," he nodded as he shrugged. "So I want to make sure you're calling me the right name. Plus Spider-Man is a lot easier to say than 'masked vigilante' or 'rogue anarchist' or whatever else you've printed about me."
I closed my eyes, pressing my lips together tightly as I absorbed the information. "Spider-Man?" I questioned, sighing.
"Yeah," he nodded.
"Okay," I exhaled, shaking my head. "Well, I'll be sure to properly name you in the next article I write, Spider-Man."
He turned his head at the sound of his newly appointed name. "T-thank you," he stammered, lowering his head to the sidewalk. "Also, it's webbing. Not string or rope."
"What?" I asked, pulling my eyebrows together.
"The- the stuff I use," he explained, motioning with his wrist. He pulled his middle finger and ring finger into his palm and pointed toward the lamp, pretending to shoot at it.
I followed his movement and stared at the lamp. "Oh," I said quietly, nodding my head once. "Is there anything else you want me to print?"
"What do you mean?" he asked, tilting his head.
"I don't know," I shrugged. "Care to make a statement about the other night?"
"Uh," he stammered, shaking his head. "I don't- I'm not sure what to say."
I moved my shoulders again, running my tongue over my lips. "Well, why are you doing this? What's your motive?"
"My motive?" he scoffed, crossing his arms and sticking out his hip.
"Yeah," I nodded. "Your motive. What drives you to do what you do?"
His hands slowly lowered to his side as he thought. "I just- I'm just trying to help," he explained, shrugging as he swung his arms from side to side. "I just want to protect innocent people from getting hurt."
"Hmm," I thought, tilting my head as I watched him. That's actually a decent answer.
"What?" he asked, turning to look around the block, thinking something was wrong.
"Nothing," I laughed quietly, shaking my head as I looked at the ground. "It's just kind of...noble."
"Noble?" he asked, crossing his arms as he leaned back.
I couldn't see his face through the mask, but something told me he was smiling.
"Yeah," I smiled, blushing. "I, uh," I laughed quietly, closing my eyes as I shook my head.
"Come on," he teased as he nodded his head. "Use your words."
Well, now I definitely can't. I continued shaking my head, smiling at the ground. "I just- thank you," I nodded, lifting my gaze to stare at his masked face.
"Oh, um," he stammered, straightening his stance. "You're, uh, you're welcome." He turned his head to the side, acting like he heard something.
I turned my head in the same direction, listening for whatever sound it was that he heard. The faint sounds of sirens wailing in the distance began to take over the normal background noise of the city. The noise was so faint, I was sure I was imagining it.
He let out a long sigh, shaking his head. His shoulders sagged dramatically as he looked up to meet my questioning stare. "Gotta go," he stated, pointing in the air toward where the sounds were echoing. "Duty calls."
"Huh," I hummed, nodding my head. "Duty," I repeated, raising my eyebrows skeptically.
He took a step in my direction, gently placing his hand on my shoulder. "This...this was nice," he nodded, looking over my shoulder. "We should do this again," he suggested, tilting his head as he waited for my response.
"Right," I said slowly, nodding my head cautiously. "Uh-"
"Catch ya later," he exclaimed, shooting a web out from his wrist.
Before I could even comprehend what was happening or say goodbye, he had pulled himself into the air and was swinging away. What the fuck just happened?
I shook my head, trying to clear my mind. I sighed and continued on my walk home. I couldn't silence the thoughts that were swimming through my head. Did I really just have a conversation with Spider-Man? Is that what we're calling him now? How did he know who I was? Do I write about this?
I couldn't help but feel like something about that interaction was so familiar. There was this strange sense of Deja Vu lingering in the silence between us. The conversation seemed almost...natural. Like I was talking to a friend. Like I was talking to Peter.
I quickly dismissed the thought from my head, convincing myself that Spider-Man was not a teenager and wasn't my best friend. Nope. There's no way that was him. Right?