Work Text:
“There’s something about that guy,” MJ had said the first time this Peter Parker guy had come in, and Ned had dismissed it with a laugh. After all, it’s hardly out of character for MJ to be distrustful of white guys who walk into the shop.
(To be fair, most of the time it’s with reason. The amount of men who think it’s okay to call a stranger by a pet name is alarming. )
With this guy, though, Ned didn’t understand her apprehension. Sure, it’s weird that he’d introduced himself with his full name just to order a coffee, and sure, there was something about the way he’d apparently stood there, zoned out as MJ called his name, but he looked pretty harmless.
He looked… quite the opposite, really. If that guy came up to Ned and told him he needed his help with whatever, Ned would do it without too much of a thought, probably. There was something about him that looked like the guy couldn’t hurt a fly, much less face the likes of a bothered MJ. At the time, Ned had thought that his dismissal would serve as an end to the conversation enough, and that they wouldn’t have to worry about Peter Parker much more.
He can’t say he feels the same now.
Peter’s come into the shop several times since then, and he does this, this absolute ridiculous thing where he’ll sometimes stare and him and MJ like he’s desperately trying to either say something or remember it. Sometimes, he’ll come in, order a coffee, and then immediately run back out. One or two times, he’d come in to study with his GED prep booklets, and both he and MJ had caught him laughing at their conversation. Like he was listening to their meaningless banter instead of doing whatever the hell he was supposed to be doing in the first place.
Today, when he’d walked in, MJ was somewhere in the back and Ned had decided that enough, he’s about to figure out this Peter Parker’s deal, and walked up to him.
He’d introduced himself casually, mentioned that he’s seen Peter around a couple of times, and Peter had smiled, repeated his name, his full name again, and reached a hand out for Ned to shake. Ned had taken it, because he’s not rude, and that’s when it had happened.
He meant to pull back, he did, but without understanding why, he had felt the tug, inexplicably, to dive his hand back in and grab Peter’s in a clasp. And Peter, mysterious, creepy Peter Parker, had done the same without a thought.
Ned looks at their clasped hands and pulls his all the way out, away from Peter’s, and it doesn’t escape him that he has the instinct, before he can think too much about it, to go right back in to slide his palm against this stranger’s in some sort of weird… handshake? greeting ritual? Like it’s a thing they do all the time. Like it’s a thing his body does naturally, without the need for his mind to catch up. Like he knows this guy.
He takes a step back, eyes fixed on Parker, whose eyes have gone wide, his hand still frozen where Ned had pulled away for a moment before he hurriedly, frantically moved to sit on top of it like he could somehow hide the memory of what had just happened.
“Uh,” Ned starts, and he’s vaguely aware that he might be being too loud, but what the hell, actually, so he goes on. “What just happened?”
Peter Parker shakes his head like someone who’s definitely guilty of something, stammering through a response that never quite makes it out of him, and Ned takes the moment to compose himself and step back into the guy’s space.
He’s freaked out, but he can’t bring himself to be afraid of the dude, and brings a finger up to poke right at the guy’s chest, accusing.
“Do you know me? Do I know you? Have you been wiping my memories? Do I- Do I have to report you to some supernatural authorities?”
Peter Parker doesn’t answer, just shakes his head some more, and Ned presses on. “Are you or are you not some sort of demon alien supervillain?”
“No!” Peter exclaims, then, firmer: “No, man. I don’t even know you.”
“Then what was that?”
“I- I… need to go?” he shouts, but it sounds alarmingly like a question, and then he’s dashing out of the place in a panic.
MJ chooses that convenient moment to walk out, catching Parker just as he makes his way out the door, and turns to him with a single raised eyebrow.
“What was that about?” she asks, and Ned doesn’t know, doesn’t understand anything, but there’s something that snaps into place inside him, clicks in his head and grips him with tenacity as he answers.
“We need to figure out who this Peter Parker guy is.”