Chapter Text
Peter was scared, he'd been awake for, what? 3 hours? And he's already hiding behind a dumpster in some alleyway off 53rd street. It was cold, so probably some time in December. Now he just had to work up the courage to head back in the streets, which was a sensory overload on a stick, but he'd have to get over it at some point, and now's better than never. So, he shuffled out of the alley way. He patted his pockets down for anything useful, 3 quarters, 4 dimes, and a nickle. What's he doing with that kinda money on him? He's bound to get mugged at this point.
With his 3 quarters, he made his way into a little shop called 'The sandwich palace' Not the catchiest name, Peter had to admit, but the window said "Best sandwich in New York!" So that caught his attention. He pushed open the door, ringing the bells tat had been dangling above.
A boy, probably around 17 or 18 walked out from some back room, probably the kitchen. He looked tired and his white apron was no longer white.
"Welcome to the sandwich palace, we can satisfy all your sandwich needs. What'll it be today?" The boy said enthusiastically.
"Um," Peter glanced around, seeing only about 3 other people sitting around. Two lady's chatting towards the front of the shop and on man reading a book, further towards the back. "Shredded Chicken with mayo." He said quietly.
"Weird accent you got going on there. Where're you from?" Apron boy asked him,
"Oh, uh, Queens."
"Well, Welcome to Brooklyn." He said, sighing and typing something in on the register in front of him. "That'll be 2 dollars, even."
Peter grabbed all the change from his jacket pocket, "I only have 1.10" He said sheepishly.
"Go get your mommy to come pay the rest, this ain't a soup kitchen, Queens, we don't give handouts." Then it hit Peter on just how bad of a situation he's in.
He didn't have a 'mommy' or a 'daddy' he didn't have an 'anyone' for that matter. The last year he remembered was 1942 and this was obviously not 1942. Inflation must've really hit the US hard after the depression or something but he had no way of making money, he didn't even know if he'd actually have any proof he existed, if that makes sense. Like, he doesn't know his social security number, and who's gonna believe some 15 year old kid that just a few hours ago he had to break his way out of a cold metal tube just to be greeted by an abandoned building, which leaving only lead him to the future or something. He could feel his hands start shaking.
"I'm sorry, I'll g-" Peter started but got cut off,
"I'll pay for him, I'll get a roast beef sandwich too." A voice from behind Peter said. He whipped around to see a man, pretty tall, with long dark hair pulled into a messy bun. Definitely not the style of hair Peter was used to seeing guys have. He must've walked in when Peter was counting his change.
"Alright, here's your number, go pick a table and I'll bring it out when it's ready." Apron boy said, handing the man a plastic number card. The man nodded his head towards a table and started walking away, Peter took that as his cue to follow.
They sat down, the man studied Peter's face for a moment,
"So what's your name kid."
"uh, Peter, I'm Peter."
"James." The man said, "Where you from?"
Peter knew he was trying to strike up a friendly conversation, and he felt obligated to respond because this man, sorry, James, was paying for his food. It was only polite to talk to him but honestly, Peter was already so overwhelmed with today. He just wanted to eat and hide in a hole maybe? or go some place quiet. Yeah, he just wanted some quiet.
He noticed James was leaning forwards now, eyebrows furrowed in concern.
"-Pete, you with me now?" Peter blinked at him, this was obviously a good enough answer because he leaned back in his seat, but kept his concerned look, "Welcome back to Earth, kid."
Peter huffed a short laugh.
"What was that?" James asked him, "You don't gotta talk. Just if you want to the options there."
"I, um, I've just had a stressful day, ya know?"
"Yeah I know all about stressful days, kid. You wanna tell me about it?" James' concerned look never left his face, it was starting to make Peter feel like he was in an interrogation.
"I can't tell you all about it, you'll think I'm insane. Like completely flipped my wig, and I don't wanna see a shrink because I know i'm not crazy." Peter paused, carefully studying James' face. James cocked his eyebrows at Peter's statement
"Nothing you say to me, kid, will make me think you're crazy." James said.
"This isn't like your normal kinda situation though, you'll think I'm a freak." Peter sighed, putting his head in his hands.
"Try me." James challenged, taking a sip out of the water bottle he brought with him. Peter pondered the thought of telling him, he wondered what he'd even tell him all together. Would he just go all out and tell him everything? Why should he even be putting his trust in this stranger to being with? 'Well,' Peter thought, 'Living in a mental hospital is better than living on the streets.'
"I'm only telling you this because living in mental hospital would give me a better shot at survival than living on the street in, what? is it December?" Peter said in a hushed voice. James' face showed no sign of being elsewhere, his full attention was on Peter, "This morning, God I can't believe I'm actually telling you this. This morning I woke up, in some metal and glass tube. I had to break myself out. The building I was in was abandoned, made my way out and was met with these moving signs and fancy cars and it's not the stuff I'm use to James. You're the first man I've ever seen with hair past his collar. I'm just really confused and overwhelmed because I don't think I'm from this time. But I don't really remember much to begin with, and nobody's going to believe my story so I don't know what to do." Peter finished. James stared. Apron man dropped of the sandwiches. James thanked him, and then looked back to Peter,
"I believe you." That's all Peter needed to hear to start the waterworks. He felt his eyes fill with tears. "Hey, no need to cry, We'll get this figured out, okay? Let's eat and I'll walk with you back to my place. I've got a few friends there that'll definitely help." Peter nodded at James' words and started eating his sandwich.
They both finished their sandwiches and headed out,
"So what do you remember exactly, if you get overwhelmed or stressed, just say so and we can talk about something else."
"Um, well I know my birthday. My full name. My parents names, my aunt and uncles names."
"And those are?"
"My birthday's August 11th. My full name is Peter Benjamin Parker. My mom's name is Mary Parker, my dad's name is Richard Parker. My aunts name is May Parker and mu Uncle's is Benjamin."
"Do you by chance know your birth year?"
"1927."
James stopped in his tracks, "I knew it." he said. "I'm so sorry kid."
"Wait, why? Do you know something? Is it my parents? My aunt? Uncle? Please tell me he's ok."
"Pete, they're dead. If you're birthday is in 1927, there's no way they could be alive, I'm sorry."
"Why? What year is it?"
"2019."
"WHAT? How?! I'm still 15?" Peter started freaking out.
"Hey, hey, look at me. We're gonna get this figured out." and so they walked. In silence, while Peter cried, until they reach the bottom of a very very tall building withe a sign, lit up, that read
Stark Industries