Chapter Text
Peter had been out way too long.
It was a bit past his curfew, but he'd texted May that he would be late. She hadn't texted back yet, probably because it was half past eleven and she was most likely asleep. It used to be that she'd stay up until he got home, but she was working long hours so Peter insisted she sleep instead of waiting up. He'd been Spider-Man for almost three years now and she knew that he knew what he was doing. If he needed her, Karen would wake her up.
When Tony had finally convinced them to let him pay (at least partially) for a new apartment, they'd integrated Karen into their home. Peter felt considerably safer now that the AI constantly watched over May, and Tony felt the same way now that he could check in any time he wanted. The loft they lived in now was in Forest Hills, substantially closer to Midtown High so Peter was often able to actually go home briefly before patrolling. As a result he no longer lost backpacks, much to May's relief.
(Though Peter suspected that Tony had programmed Karen to notify him when Peter embarrassed himself, because he somehow knew when Peter accidentally ran into the window after an extra exhausting patrol. The video played on repeat in the lab for a week and both Ned and MJ got ahold of it. Due to the fact that they were his best friends, they were "legally obligated" to make a Vine out of it.)
Peter yawned. Midterms had kept him up studying last night and his brain was completely fried from the tests and presentations. Luckily the studying seemed to paid off because he got 95 percent on his Chemistry midterm.
"It's thirty minutes past your weekend curfew, Peter," Karen reminded him gently.
"I know, I know, Karen," he sighed. "I'll head back now."
Peter leapt off the building without hesitation, shooting a web to catch him as he free fell to the pavement. It pulled taut a few feet away from the ground, the wind whistling in his ears as he swung. As the momentum of his plunge urged him forward, he stretched his feet up above his head, streamlining his body. He released at the top of the pendulum, performing several twists and flips before diving down once more. Another web caught him and he was swinging home.
"Karen, keep an eye out for crimes on my way home."
"Of course, Peter." The AI's soft and reassuring voice reminded him of May's. Peter often thought that Tony did that on purpose. FRIDAY, Tony's personal AI, snarked and talked back to Tony, countering his own sarcastic demeanor. But Karen encouraged and boosted Peter up, keeping him safe and happy, and making him feel better. He appreciated the extra support sometimes.
Peter loved this- swinging peacefully was his happy place. The constant sounds of the city were strangely comforting, like an assurance that no matter what, life goes on. The City That Never Sleeps is Peter's home, and he loves it, is proud of it.
A sound from a nearby alley set off his senses. His scalp tingled, telling him that There's Something There You Might Need To Take Care Of.
Peter dropped next to the alley lightly. Whatever set off his senses wasn't putting him in danger; that's not what they were telling him. Often he'd get a signal like this and it would be a desperate homeless person scrounging for food. If that happened, he'd gently point out the nearest shelter. Sometimes they got a bit hostile and defensive, and at that point he zipped away. No reason to stick around and get stabbed with another rusty fork.
But this wasn't a homeless person. As Peter cautiously stepped into the alley way, a low whine emitted from behind the trash bin pushed up against the building.
Peter took a deep breath and approached where the whine came from. "Here, doggy doggy," he called softly. "It's okay; I'm not going to hurt you," he crooned. He heard the dog whimper and scoot farther away from him.
"Alright then," Peter muttered. He positioned himself between the street and the dog. The smell of the trash hit his nose, though it was not very full and he assumed it had been taken out yesterday. Often his enhanced senses hindered rather than helped him, especially in the pungent trash department.
Peter pushed the bin away from the wall slowly. As it screeched across the ground, the opening on the other side became smaller, and the side towards Peter wider. The dog didn't have much of a choice where to go.
Luckily, Peter's senses forewarned him to brace for the impact of a 110-pound dog running at him him.
He was just able to contain the huge black Newfoundland, and noticed it was injured in multiple places. "Hey, hey, hey, buddy, slow down." Peter wrapped his arms around it, lifting it completely off the ground with ease. Slowly, the dog stopped struggling as it seemed to understand that Peter was here to help.
"That's is, doggy. Karen, do an assessment, please." Slowly, and gently, Peter set down the beast.
"The dog has minor injuries on her leg, and side. Neither are serious or fatal but if it goes untreated, it may get infected or get worse." Peter nodded, thanking Karen. There was no collar on the poor thing. He continued to pet it, and with every stroke, its huge body seemed to relax.
Peter paused, caressing the dog's ears. "Wait, she?"
"Yes, Peter. She is about 2 to 3 years old, 112.35 pounds, Newfoundland breed."
"Okay. Can you check for a chip, and scan all social media for anybody mentioning a lost Newfie?" He massaged her neck, her eyes closing in bliss. Karen was silent for a moment.
"No sign of a chip, Peter. And no mention of a missing dog fitting her description."
Peter sighed. "Alright. Remind me tomorrow to call local shelters and check if anyone's been looking for her."
At this point, the dog had almost completely warmed up to him. He petted the whole length of her body and fondled her ears. "I suppose you're hungry, huh, girl. You want some food? Yeah?"
Her head cocked at his tone. He laughed. "Oh, you're a good girl, huh, yes you are. What a good girl!" She wagged her tail so hard he was glad he wasn't standing on her back end. "You kind of smell though. A lot, actually. Like trash."
He crouched so they were face to face. "You smell like garbage." Her tail whipped back and forth. "You smell bad and you are proud of it. You're a trash doggy, yes you are. Trash dog," he praised her, and she licked his face. "Oh, nasty! Your breath is worse than May's cooking." He laughed. "Don't tell her I said that."
Peter stood up and realized that they didn't have much food at home, or at least enough for a beast like the dog currently licking his belly. "Let's stop and get you something, huh, girl? Yeah?" She cocked her head the other way. Peter smiled at her before realizing his dilemma.
He was a good bit away from his and May's loft. He couldn't swing, not with the dog, and he didn't want to walk. People would talk if they saw Spider-Man running home with a dog that looked stolen, and besides, it wasn't safe on the ground. He didn't want to hail a taxi for obvious reasons. He groaned and looked at the sky, his gears working fast. "Think, Peter," he said, banging a fist on his forehead.
"Oh!" He said, coming to a sudden realization. "Karen, text Ned and ask him if he's up, please."
"Sure thing, Peter. Message sent."
Peter wondered why it took him that long to come to the realization that Ned's apartment was across the freaking street.
Almost immediately Ned texted back. Karen read his text aloud, "yeah watching GoT what's up?"
"Karen, call Ned please." He picked up on the first ring.
"What's up, Peter?" Ned answered.
"Um, I need to borrow your car, man. Um, official Spider-Man business." Peter laughed.
"Yeah, okay… did you run out of web fluid? And isn't it past curfew?"
"No, plenty of fluid here… web! Plenty of web fluid. No, I kind of picked up something that I can't swing home with."
Peter heard Ned sigh on the other end. "Are you going to tell me, or are we going to keep playing twenty questions?"
"Well, ah, I found a dog…"
"Peter! Last time you found a dog its owner couldn't come get it for a full day and it peed everywhere and chewed up all May's pillows. Do you really think that it's a good idea for you to bring another one home?"
"She's really nice! And injured. Nobody seems to be looking for her, and I need to pick up dog food but I can't in my suit."
There was a pause. Ned sighed again. "Where are you?"
"Across the street."
Peter saw Ned's window open and a ring of keys came flying out. Grinning, he caught them with a web.
"There's spare clothes in my trunk, too." Ned offered. "They'll probably be huge on you, but you can use them if you want."
"Thanks, man. I owe you one."
Ned hummed. "See you later. Let me get back to Game of Thrones."
Peter chuckled. "Bye."
"Bye." The click on the other end told Peter that Ned had hung up.
Peter found a sweatshirt and sweatpants in the trunk. They were really baggy, but they would serve the purpose that he needed for tonight.
He stopped at Foodtown of Forest Hills, a supermarket near his apartment. The employees gave him dirty looks for cutting it so close to closing time, so he quickly picked out a bag of dog food and two dishes. When he got up to the checkout, the woman gave him such weird looks that he chuckled nervously and plucked at his shirt.
"Uh, I had to borrow a friend's clothes." She shrugged, but for some reason felt he should keep going. "Yeah, um, my clothes got all… ripped up. From a stray dog. We were trying to catch it and it got angry. So we're buying food for it. It's nice, now, though." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "In case you were wondering. Which you weren't. But," he cleared his throat again, "you got the full story, ha-ha."
She simply gave a weird, 'I just want you to shut up already' smile. So he did, with great effort. "That'll be twenty-nine dollars and twenty-three cents." She took Peter's cash and nodded. "Change is seventy-seven cents, here's your receipt. Thank you for shopping at Foodtown, enjoy the rest of your night."
Peter nodded and thanked her, grabbing the bowls and heavy bag of food with ease. There was a time when spending nearly thirty dollars in one place would've blown his brains out, but Tony had an embarrassing habit of losing his twenty and fifty dollar bills directly into Peter's wallet. It baffled Peter because Tony hadn't carried cash since his favorite coffee shop started taking credit cards. Strange. Not only that, but May constantly found 100-dollar bills in the couch. Peter wanted to be on BuzzFeed Unsolved, but May didn't think this particular mystery warranted a spot on the show.
The dog barked when he opened the door. "Hi, trash dog," he greeted. She wagged her tail. "I'd think of a name for you, but I'm probably not going to be able to keep you," he said sadly.
"Boof," she agreed, her ears and tail drooping as if to match Peter's mood. He noticed this, and not wanting to make her sad, tried to perk up.
"But it's okay!" He exclaimed in a fake happy, falsetto voice. "We'll find you a home!" She perked up and cocked her head. "Yes, with some kids, preferably, and you will be happy!"
Her massive tail thumped against the seat. Peter laughed. "Let's get you home."
Shame, Peter thought. I have the perfect name for you.
One thing Peter did not think through was how he was going to tell May that he found a dog. When he'd gotten home that night, she was asleep so Peter gave the ever so patient dog a bath and dressed her wounds. They both crashed on Peter's bed at around 2am after an episode of Parks and Rec.
The next morning, May pushed open her nephew's door to check on him before going to work, and was greeted by a Newfoundland jumping off his bed and coming over to lick her hands.
"What the f-"