Chapter Text
It was the buzzing of his phone that woke Peter up.
Rubbing his eyes, he propped himself up on his elbow, feeling for his phone in the mess of blankets that MJ had described as his nest the first time she had come over. Somehow, it had ended up near his ankles, and he unlocked it to see a flurry of new messages coming in. He opened Ned’s first, who had sent him a tweet in between a lot of excited key smashing.
Breaking News: August 10th Declared National Spider-Team Day! Ceremony to be held at the Met, after-party at Stark Tower!
Peter’s eyes narrowed as he saw a photo of Tony’s, grin on his face, underneath the headline of the article. He went back to the rest of the messages, groaning as he noticed the rest of his friends had sent him the same article. Thankfully, there was no message from May yet, but there was no doubt that she’d find out by her lunch break. He swore gossip traveled faster in the ER than the Bugle. Groaning, he shoved himself out of bed and pulled on his favorite hoodie, leaving his room to go grab some breakfast.
Sitting at the table was Johnny, a shit-eating smirk on his face as he scrolled on his phone. In front of him was a bowl of the cereal that Peter had expressed was his and his alone. The asshole had probably finished the rest of the box.
“Hey, congrats Spidey!” Not looking at his friend, Peter stuck up a middle finger and started digging in the fridge for some leftover pizza.
“You know, you live a door down from me. No need to text me when you could, I don’t know, knock on my door.”
“Well, I figured with your new hero status, it’d be too difficult to get your attention from the adoring fans.” Peter rolled his eyes, facing Johnny once he found the messily wrapped pieces of pizza.
“Believe it or not, Johnny, I’d prefer not having to share my birthday with Spiderman,” he explained, taking a bite of the cold pizza. Johnny gagged, but there was no point in offering to heat it up for Peter-he loved cold pizza.
“Last time I checked, you are Spiderman,” Miles shrugged, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a slice of pizza from Peter’s plate. “At least, you are on alternate days of the week. Hey, does this mean I get to celebrate your birthday with you this year?”
“Wow, we love an original joke, take up stand-up, Miles,” Peter snarked, looking over at his friend for any sign of how yesterday’s patrol had gone.
“Don’t worry, Mother Hen, it was all quiet,” Miles joked, noticing his friend. “Nothing out of the ordinary--couple muggings, pet some cats. It was a good time.”
“What you really need to worry about is how May is going to take this,” Johnny said, a big bite of cereal in his mouth. Thankfully, they had all gotten used to Johnny talking with his mouth full and were able to translate despite the giant chunks of marshmallow muffling his speech.
“Yeah, no shit. She swore that there was no way Tony would ever be able to top what she did last year, and here he is,” he groaned, checking his phone to read another text from Ned. “By the way, Johnny, Ned said you better have those new sneakers on his bed by the time he gets off of his shift.” Johnny shrugged, making some noise of acknowledgment as he started to drink the milk from his bowl.
“Peter, don’t you have work in like, twenty minutes?” Miles asked, looking up from his own phone with an eyebrow raised. Shit. Peter scrambled to shove the last bites of his pizza in his mouth, and ran out of the room to get ready, his friends laughing at his struggle. Some friends they were.
Thankfully, he hadn’t been late, but Betty had raised her eyebrows as a warning once he got to his desk. Great.
“He wanted to see you ten minutes ago,” she explained. Did it matter that his shift hadn’t required him to be there ten minutes ago? Of course not. When Jonah Jameson wanted to see you, you had better be there. “Good luck!” Peter didn’t even stop to put everything down on his desk, figuring he had better get this over with as soon as possible.
He went to Jameson’s office, dread growing in his stomach. May and Tony always swore that there was no reason for his boss to hate him, but considering that on the best days, Jameson outright ignored him, it was fair to say that Peter felt otherwise. Getting constantly yelled at and called a dumbass did that to a person. He knocked once and heard Jameson’s gruff voice call him in.
He looked up at Peter right away, a frown deeply etched into his face. Peter couldn’t help but wonder about that old wives’ tale, that if a person made an ugly face, it would stay stuck that way. Was Jameson even able to look anything other than absolutely displeased? Or was that just Peter’s talent, pissing off the person who signed his absolutely meager paychecks to no end?
“Late again, Parker.” Peter forced an apologetic smile on his face.
“Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again.” Definitely not true, though at least today he had technically been on time.
“Not too professional, I would say. Too busy talking to the Spider group about their newest claim to fame?” Peter knew an out when he saw one, and latched onto the suggestion.
“Mhm, they’re quite honored about it, really. They were-” He struggled to describe it, considering that at best between the three of them, Miles was amused, Gwen probably felt the same, while he was frankly annoyed. Luckily, Jameson’s talent for interrupting him stopped him from having to come up with a lie.
“I don’t pay you to write, Parker. I pay you to take photos. What are you doing August 10th?” Crap.
“I, well, it’s my birthday, but I hadn’t really planned on doing much-” Once again, Jameson interrupted.
“Perfect. You can go to this little honor party, shake hands, get some photos. Do your thing.” Peter’s eyes widened, his surprise momentarily making him forget that on August 10th he was supposed to be up there shaking hands and pretending like he didn’t want to curse out his mentor.
“You’re not sending one of the senior photographers?” Jameson rolled his eyes, sipping from his steaming, chipped mug of black coffee. A smiley face and the words, “No Bad Days” were on the mug, staring into Peter’s soul. Ironic.
“Despite the senior team having more finesse in taking a selfie than in your entire portfolio, even I can’t argue that your Spiderman work is...unmatched. So, unfortunately, you see my dilemma.” Jameson took another sip of the coffee, and Peter couldn’t help but wince. Wouldn’t that burn his tongue? “And I’m tasked with sending you out for what is, as I’m sure you realize, a valuable assignment. If you do well on this,” and here his boss looked absolutely pained, “we can discuss an increase in pay. But that’s dependent on you not fucking this up, Parker.”
An increase in pay would be a godsend. Despite Tony having offered multiple times to help him pay for his apartment, Peter had insisted on taking care of himself. It was his responsibility, after all. An increase in pay wouldn’t just take care of that, but he could maybe put some money aside for May’s retirement, even though his aunt had insisted multiple times that it wasn’t necessary. She had sacrificed so much for Peter, worked so hard, it was the least he could do.
“I definitely won’t fuck this up, sir,” Peter said, wincing a bit as the swear slipped out of his mouth. Jameson rolled his eyes.
“Don’t make me regret this,” he muttered, turning back to the papers on his desk in an unspoken dismissal. Peter scrambled out of the office, eager to get out of the tense environment that always surrounded his boss. He wouldn’t make Jameson regret this--he couldn’t. He just needed to figure out how to be in two places at once, while taking great photos in a way that wouldn’t expose his entire identity. No problem. Right?
Betty looked up at him once he got back to his desk, and held out a cup of iced coffee for him. Thank god for Betty.
“I picked one up for you this morning, I just had the feeling today was going to be stressful,” she explained, turning back to her work. Betty had quickly gotten close to the senior writers for the International news section of the Bugle, and was working on a new piece about a slew of murders in Venice. It was the mention of stress that captured Peter’s attention, however.
To put it simply, Betty didn’t really get stressed. Overloaded with work, yes. She and Peter had been working together at the Bugle since spring, and from the way she had loaded both her school and work schedule, she hadn’t really had much free time. But she had graduated in May, earlier than Peter and the rest of their friends. She had certainly seemed calmer over the summer, thankfully, and he wondered what could have stressed out the unshakeable Betty Brant. Then it suddenly dawned on him, and he snorted.
“So how’s Flash?” Betty glared at him, but she turned her desk chair to talk.
“Eugene is coming to visit for the holidays. He told me this morning.” Peter sipped at the iced coffee, the flavor of toffee-nut making him sigh in relief.
“I don’t see how this is a problem, considering the two of you have been pining over each other since we were what, fifteen?” Betty was silent, and Peter looked closely at her. “Betty, what’s up?”
“We hadn’t really talked much, before today, since May. Other than just general stuff, like how are you, how’s work, you know.” Peter winced, remembering the argument that led to Betty calling out for two days. Betty hadn’t even called out during the last hurricane the city had experienced, so to say it had been bad was an understatement.
“So what, he just invited himself over?” Betty shrugged.
“Not in so many words. He said he was coming home and asked if I’d be willing to see him, and I said yes. I offered him a place to stay, so, I guess technically he invited himself back to the East coast, and I invited him to my apartment.” The ‘so he wouldn’t have to stay at home’ went unspoken between the two of them. “Anyway, what did Jameson want?” Peter knew an attempt to change the conversation when he saw one. He knew a lot of people would say it was good to talk about feelings, but he certainly wasn’t going to push when he bottled up his own shit.
“He wants me to take photos at the Spiderman thing this weekend,” he explained, turning on his own laptop. Now that he had some caffeine in his system, he was starting to realize that pulling this off was going to need some planning. If only he needed to be photographed, Miles or Gwen could have worn Peter’s for some photo-ops. But Miles and Gwen would both be at this ceremony wearing their suits, which certainly complicated things.
Betty’s eyes widened, and she smiled at her friend. “Peter, that’s great! I mean, I’m not surprised, your photos are great, no matter what Jameson says. This could lead to a full-time job after graduation,” she said, nudging him with her elbow.
“Betty, if I’m still here once I graduate, Jameson is going to end up eating me like a fly trapped in a spider’s web,” he said, voice completely deadpan. Betty laughed, turning back to her work. Peter had a feeling that if she knew about the whole secret identity thing, she would have responded more like MJ did when he made spider jokes. Speaking of that-
Peter unlocked his phone, pulling up his messages with MJ. Gwen had convinced her to go abroad with her that summer, and their last texts before the article she sent him today had been his freaking out about picking classes for that semester. He sent her a quick text to say he missed her before setting his phone on do not disturb. As much as his job could suck, it would really be awful to get fired for texting, considering Jameson would absolutely relish the chance to get rid of him.
It was as Peter was waiting in line for a hot dog that his phone started buzzing. He pulled it out of his pocket, surprised to see MJ’s contact photo lighting up his home screen. MJ hated the photo, but it had been from Halloween their senior year in high school, with her scowling dressed as a black widow. Not the Black Widow, but as the literal spider. She had loved the costume, but had been photobombed by Ned throwing up jungle juice next to her. Not his best moment.
Peter scrambled to take the call, almost dropping his iced coffee in excitement. Hey, it had been a while since MJ had been able to call, so fight him.
“Hey! MJ, what’s up? I missed you!” Peter knew he sounded overexcited, but he couldn’t help it. The guy behind him made a face, but for once his awkwardness didn’t matter.
“Hi weirdo,” MJ replied, and he moved forward in line, trying to pull some change out of his pockets. He could tell MJ was rolling her eyes with that little smirk she hid behind her hands, which made his face break into a grin.
“How’s Paris? You tired of beautiful monuments and history yet?” MJ laughed at that, a little peal of laughter that he could hear over the tourists in both of their respective cities.
“Oh, y’know, it’s not too bad. Not as wild as the trip we took in high school.”
“Lack of a murderous super-villain will do that,” Peter said, smirking as it was his turn to order. Thankfully, it was the usual woman working the stand, Sophie, and she quickly put his order together. He hated to be that person, talking on the phone like service workers didn’t matter, but he really missed his friend. He stuffed a five into the tip jar after handing her the money, ignoring the frown on Sophie’s face. Yeah, he was broke, but he wasn’t a jerk.
“Not too wild, but not as interesting. It would be nice to have you and Ned here too, I guess,” MJ admitted, though Peter knew that his friend was having fun. The photos she posted of her and Gwen on her Instagram said it all.
“Is that your way of saying you miss me?” Peter couldn’t help the way his chest felt a little tight as he asked. The feelings he was having towards MJ weren’t new, he’d been experiencing them for the past few months, but it could still surprise him.
“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Maybe Gwen and I just need someone to take good photos,” she teased. Peter took the hot dog that Sophie handed him, and started walking to his favorite bench in the park.
“I see how it is. Anyway, not that I’m not excited to hear from you, but isn’t it getting kind of late over there?” It was three here, so probably about nine in Paris, if his math was right.
“Not too late, Gwen and I are getting drinks before dinner, old man,” MJ said, a smile in her voice. “I wanted to congratulate you and Miles on your new holiday, since Gwen is celebrating with a bottle of wine that’s one hundred euros.” Peter groaned. Great.
“Don’t act like you didn’t really call to make fun of me,” he said, taking a bite of his lunch.
“Who, me? I mean, you’re not wrong, I think this is hilarious. But genuinely, how are you feeling about it?” Sometimes Peter forgot how well MJ could read him. Sure, they had been friends for years at this point, and she had guessed on their trip to Europe that he was Spiderman. But she always was able to put into words the things he didn’t want to admit to himself.
Especially things that would bring up discussions over his extreme lack of self-worth.
“I mean, it’s no surprise I’m not happy about it. I mean, it’s not like all of you guys have made a huge deal of it. Johnny was his usual self, obviously, but he was...reserved, for Johnny, anyway. But I know it’s not going to stay like that. Even though no one is going to know it’s us under those masks, it’s going to be a lot of attention for the three of us, as if we don’t get enough of that already. It’s just going to get really overwhelming, really fast.”
“You haven’t talked to Stark then, I presume, if it hasn’t gotten overwhelming yet.” Peter sighed, finishing his lunch and scrunching the trash into a ball.
“No, I haven’t. He’s going to be giddy over winning the competition this year.”
“He’s never won against May, I don’t see that changing. Ceremony that makes you cringe or not, she’s the reigning champ.” Shit. “Excuse me?”
“Crap. Did I say that out loud?” He knew without seeing her that MJ was smirking.
“Better make sure that Rogers isn’t around, or you’ll have to put another dollar in the jar.”
“That isn’t true, and you know it, Tony just put it there to bother Steve.”
“Mhm, and then he made Stark put a dollar in the jar just for kicks when he was swearing out Colonel Rhodes during paintball?”
“That was a lover’s quarrel,” Peter suggested.
“Can you sound less like an octogenarian? Anyway, what’s wrong? Another screaming voicemail from Jameson?” Peter scoffed, checking his voicemails just in case. MJ’s guess was certainly believable, considering it had happened more than once before.
“More like I just remembered May moved our weekly dinner this week to tonight, instead of Friday. Which means she definitely is going to have heard about this by then and I definitely won’t hear about anything other than that.”
“Ah, well, I suppose you’ll just have to put out the fire while you’re in the hot seat, I guess. Tell May I miss her!”
“Thanks for the support, MJ, try not to choke on your own vomit tonight,” Peter scoffed, hanging up the call before throwing out his garbage. If he was going to be with May tonight, he wanted to pick up some wine for their dinner. It wouldn’t be one hundred euros, but May wasn’t a big drinker, so he figured she wouldn’t care. His phone started to buzz as he left to go back to work, cringing when he saw Jameson’s number come up. Maybe it would be better to get the wine now.
“Oh Mayyyyyy,” Peter called, knocking at the open window of what used to be his old room. He slid in, sliding his shoes off onto the little tray underneath the window. May could say as much as she wanted about him using the front door, her leaving the window open said she felt differently.
He balanced his work stuff and the bottle of wine in his hands, taking special care not to drop anything and cause a spill on any of the wood on May’s work table. He leaned over, looking at her newest piece, a large slab of wood that she had started to burn to get what looked like a rough image of one of their family photos. Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he shot his hand up, catching a banana.
“Damn. Wish that still worked,” May muttered, stalking into the room and quickly covering the wood with a piece of fabric. “Forget everything you saw, Spiderman. This is your birthday gift,” she frowned, but there was an amused tilt to her eyebrows.
“Not my fault you left it out in the open,” Peter snarked, pulling May into a hug and letting out a little sigh when her arms wrapped around him. May smelled the same, the same mix of antiseptic from the hospital, burnt wood, and that lily perfume Ben had always loved.
“Not my fault you climb into my studio like a robber, Pete,” she responded, kissing the top of his head. “Is this for me?” She nodded towards the bottle of wine he had put on the work table, a smirk on her face. “While I appreciate the gesture, I made us breakfast for dinner tonight.” Well, shit.
“It is technically grape juice, and grapes are a fruit that you serve at breakfast, so,” Peter mused, following her into the kitchen.
It was always weird being back in the old apartment, even though he came over almost weekly for their dinners. (Not that Peter didn’t want May to come over to his apartment, but a room full of superheroes was...a lot, especially when it came to his, Gwen, and Miles’s appetites.) He was no longer surprised by the changes, but it was nice to see his aunt so happy. Honestly, he had worried that with him leaving, it would feel like a betrayal. After all, after Ben died, they had only had each other. He hadn’t wanted May stuck in some sort of time capsule.
Instead, more photos covered the walls: photos of him and his friends goofing off, a snapshot he had taken from last New Year’s Eve, when May and Pepper got stuck under the mistletoe. Candids of him and Tony working in the workshop, and his and MJ’s prom photo, plus a copy of it which had been photobombed by Ned, Betty, and Flash.
May had changed the paint last month, and he could still detect hints of fresh paint smell. Plants lined the free corners of the apartment, and the old corner of the living room where Peter had done work in high school was filled by a large, white birdcage. An empty birdcage.
“Where’s Colby?”
“Helping me cook, obviously,” May responded, her voice coming from their small kitchen. Peter groaned, walking into the room and seeing his aunt’s large, gray rescue bird sitting proudly on the box of Bisquick.
“You know he doesn’t like me, he’s going to peck me all of dinner,” Peter moaned, setting the table as Colby glared at him from across the room. Could birds glare? He made a mental note to google that later.
“In his defense, Peter, birds tend to eat spiders,” May shrugged, flipping a large peanut butter pancake. “You’re just in touch with your instincts, aren’t you my love?” She leaned over, and let her demon bird nibble at her fingers. “Anyway, he wanted to congratulate you on your new honor.” Peter froze, damning Tony Stark and the fellow nurses in the ER who no doubt had been gossiping all day about this. He had wanted to at least be the one to break the news.
“What honor?” May came over with two full plates of breakfast food, putting both in Peter’s spot. She rolled her eyes, going back to the oven to pull out some apple muffins. May wasn’t much of a cook normally, but when it came to breakfast, she was the reigning champ.
“Pete, it was all over social media. Plus, Tony talked to me about it before he went and made it official.” She came back to the table with the tray of muffins and her own plate, but not before giving Colby a bird treat.
“You knew about this? And you didn’t stop it?” Peter couldn’t help the somewhat shrill, betrayed tone to his voice. Who knew both of the adults in his life would conspire against him? May tried to cover her laugh, but she was unsuccessful, and Peter rose an eyebrow at her.
“Listen, originally I wasn’t for it, but you, Miles, and Gwen do so much. It would be good for you three to have a day for yourselves. Maybe the Bugle would stop publishing such awful stuff about the three of you.”
“Hey, I work hard to get that awful stuff published, thank you very much. It pays the bills,” Peter argued, taking a large bite of one of the dozen and a half pancakes May had put on his plate. “And I know damn well that there has to be another reason you let Tony do this.” May rose her eyebrows at his language, but clearly felt it wasn’t worth arguing about, considering she had doomed him to this awful day.
“If it made Tony think he was going to win, then why not let him fall into his own trap,” May mused, shrugging at him. Oh, not this again. It was like MJ had said-May would never let Tony win. They had had this...competition, of sorts, every year on his birthday since he had turned seventeen. Each year, they tried to get Peter the better gift. There was no prize, except for gloating rights. And despite Tony’s efforts, each year May had won without fail.
“Maybe just for this, I’ll give him a heads-up about the art I saw in your studio,” Peter joked, but one look from May and he was quiet. “I’m not sure why you went along with it though, competition notwithstanding. It means we won’t be able to have my normal birthday dinner.” Birthday dinners were a tradition in the Parker household, and after Ben’s death, they were even more important. Over the years, Ned, then MJ, next Tony, then Miles, Johnny, and Gwen, were invited over and joined the tradition. Even though they had dinners together as a whole group more than once a year, part of him felt a bit hollow at the idea of breaking their tradition.
“This honor ceremony thing Tony organized won’t be all day, baby. We still have the whole night to spend with everyone. Plus, it gives the team a good excuse to leave before giving too many “mandatory” statements,” May said, putting up air quotations. Then her eyes narrowed. “How exactly are you going to be there taking photos as Peter Parker while you get honored as Spiderman?” Just great. Today just kept getting worse and worse. Peter wished he had let that slime monster from two years back crush him when it had the chance, because he wouldn’t be sitting here answering these questions. Or have had to take that dance class that semester. “Peter…”
“Uh, let’s just say that that whole situation is a work in progress. That will be solved! Don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.” He winced at his (admittedly) weak attempt at trying to act like he had everything figured out.
“I worry because I larb you,” May sighed, reaching over and patting his hand. “And because of that, I don’t want you over-extending yourself again, Pete. Remember how bad it got last year? You don’t-” Peter pulled his hand back, the familiar feeling of tight rope knotting against his rib cage. Ah, anxiety.
“Let’s not, thanks,” Peter said quietly, his appetite completely gone. Colby squawked, the sharp sting to his over-enhanced ears adding a particular screw-you, Parker! to an already shitty moment. He didn’t look up at May, knowing her eyes would be sad, choosing instead to get up and grab some wine glasses. Hey, he wasn’t eating breakfast anymore, so sue him for breaking open the seven dollar bottle, alright?
He filled the class and came back over, not even paying attention to Colby’s over-exaggerated attempt to bite his elbow. May quickly tried to apologize, but he just shrugged, asking instead what her day had been like. Thankfully, May appeased him and started rambling about Jackie and Denise and the mayhem that was working in the ER. Pretty soon, he was able to forget the awkward tension, and making May sad, and even this joke of a day of honor.
But the plate of food sat on the table the entire time he was there, even after he and May did the dishes.