Chapter Text
Peter Parker hated coming back to his apartment after sunrise. Many times there was no helping it, though. The drive to commit crimes, to steal from and mug the innocent, did not take time off during the holidays. Families still needed to be fed and mental health couldn’t go on vacation until the New Year.
Villains weren’t born but made. It was in Aunt May’s death that Peter found that answer. In the painful months since then, in which he met his multiverse alter-egos and had Doctor Strange cast a spell to make everyone forget he ever existed, he’s been trying to set as many people on the right path as possible. Most of the crimes happened right before the crack of dawn. They had Peter don his Spider-Man costume and swing through miles’ worth of New York skyline night after night.
Peter crawled through the open window of his apartment complex and dropped to the floor, making an effort to be as light and inconspicuous as possible. He took one quick glance at his phone and saw that it was 6:22 AM, among his later arrivals. He knew he should’ve taken a hot shower, maybe put some food in his system. Too tired, his mind kept repeating over and over. Too tired to even scrape the red-and-blue costume off his body. Too tired to do anything but take his mask off and sleep.
Until a loud mee-oww forced him back up. “You again?” said Peter as he fumbled around the bed sheets looking for the intruder. He found a scrawny black cat nestled in the covers. It looked particularly unpleased to see Peter.
“C’mon,” said Peter as he grabbed the cat. It bit and scratched at the air, managing to get one good scratch in and drawing blood. He opened the door to his cold hallway and threw the cat into it. It was the third time this month that had happened. He didn’t quite understand how--or why--the cat was coming into his apartment.
There was no use putting off a shower when he was wide awake, he thought. Peter took a long-delayed shower, getting primed and ready for a relaxing sleep. It was a wonderful feeling to have on a cozy pair of pajamas and snuggle into bed, knowing that snow was accumulating on your windowsill. He could feel himself drift off to bed, releasing tension that had accumulated in every fiber of his worn body.
The sound of the alarm quickly put a stop to that. “Damn it,” he said, loud enough for the neighbor behind his bed to shout at him to shut up. A big part of Peter thought that if he stood still enough in his bed, the alarm would eventually get tired and stop. Unfortunately, he had charged his phone yesterday like an idiot and it would take hours of mind-blending alarm noises to use up all its juice.
Like criminals, life didn’t take holidays. And if he wanted to get a move on with his, he would have to pass the fourth and last part of his GED today. The problem was that it started in half an hour and he was halfway across town.
“Just five more minutes,” he told himself. Peter was barely conscious. He’d been hit with more than one baseball bat. Shots were fired. He slipped on a banana peel. It had been a rough night.
The world’s memories had been wiped clean of Peter Parker. That gave him the space to be Spider-Man in secret. Unfortunately, Peter quickly found out that his alter ego was like a gas, filling up all his available time. No friends or school? That was Spider-Man’s time now. He managed to scrape enough time to study for his GED and take the tests. He’d also have to find a job soon, for the little amount of money that his Aunt May left him would soon run out. To get that job, he’d probably need that GED.
So he threw his bed sheets aside and went to brush his teeth.
Peter had been to the testing site before and knew that they would check his bag and have him pass through a sensor. That meant that having the Spider-Man suit on his person would probably be found out. Swinging through the city was, therefore, out of the question. That left him with one option: run like hell to the subway.
He made good time. It helped that it was a brisk 28 degrees Fahrenheit and not even 7:30 AM yet, so any New Yorker that didn’t have a good reason to be out was probably at home. Peter felt bad bumping into several people but it was the only way. He saw the stairs to his stop and accelerated ever so slightly.
It wasn’t particularly busy, which gave Peter a modicum of peace. That meant he could probably get on the first train he saw.
At the turnstiles, he reached for his wallet. When he couldn’t find it, he tried the other pockets of his jeans. He found an old bubble gum wrapper and a receipt for a hot dog but no wallet. Maybe his real super power was his bad luck.
“Crap,” he said. Panic had started to set in. No wallet didn’t just mean no MTA card, it also meant no ID card, no way to verify his identity at the testing site. He’d have to wait weeks for a replacement, which meant that he’d have to delay his job search. That in turn meant he would struggle to pay the rent. Spider-Man, homeless. He was sure the nice people at the Daily Bugle would love to hear that.
“You OK?” said a voice behind him.
“Not really, no,” said Peter. He didn’t bother looking at the stranger. There were still his jacket pockets to check.
“I think you dropped this,” she said. He turned to look at the outstretched hand.
There, in her hands, was his wallet.
“Oh, my… thank you!” he said, taking it out of her hand. “Thank you so much.”
He turned his gaze up to look at his savior. She had platinum-blond hair so fair it looked white, tied neatly behind her in a ponytail. Her black puffer coat contrasted beautifully with the white of her hair and skin. He would’ve stared a second longer had his Spider-sense not kicked in.
“Sorry, I gotta get a move on,” he said, quickly taking his MTA card and swiping it on the turnstile. She followed quickly after.
“GED, right?” she said. Her voice was soft but sultry, the kind that made you believe anything that it said.
“That’s right,” he said, rubbing his hair in an attempt to regain what little composure he could. “How’d you know?”
She stuck out a white piece of paper. “You also dropped this. It has the directions to the testing site. You can use your phone, you know? Don’t have to print directions off Google Maps like a grandpa.”
“I guess I’m a little old-fashioned like that,” he said, squeaking out a laugh and taking the paper. The first train arrived just as the two walked onto the platform. There was a lot more he wanted to say but his head was preoccupied with more pressing matters. “Well, I should probably get going. I have my…”
“Reasoning through Language Arts test at the McCarthy Center?” she said, taking the first steps onto the train.
“Y-Yeah…”
“I’m taking that one too,” she said, taking a seat. She patted the open spot next to her. Peter took the hint.
Peter had taken the first three tests in the last week. He didn’t like to assume things, but it was a fact that most test-takers were a decade or more older than he was. This woman looked to be the same age as him.
“I’m Peter,” he said the moment he took the seat. He felt inexplicably warmer.
“Felicia,” she said, extending a hand. “Felicia Hardy.”