Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It wasn‘t like Lauren was looking for Spider-Man, or paid any particular attention to him, not at first anyway.

It was just that he often happened to be around when she was out in the city. Or perhaps the other way around.

She suspected, after the first few times, that the area of Queens where most of Lauren‘s life took place—her home, her favourite cafés and restaurants, the stores and bodegas she frequented—just happened to overlap quite closely with Spider-Man‘s regular beat.

So she often saw him swing by when she was catching some air on her fire escape, could observe him helping someone across the street from the table in front of her favourite café where she was working, noticed him sitting on the edge of a roof having a snack when she went to the corner store to pick something up.

It wasn‘t like seeing Spider-Man around was something particularly unusual in Queens. Everyone did at some point or another. And probably it was just confirmation bias—once she‘d noticed she was seeing him a lot, every time she spotted him just reinforced that belief.

Nonetheless she couldn‘t help feeling a strange kind of attachment to the friendly neighbourhood helper. Kind of like that regular at the café that you always see around and you‘ve never talked to but sometimes you nod to each other and when they‘re not around for a while you wonder vaguely if they‘re doing okay.

Kind of like that.

Only one-sided, because Spidey had never acknowledged her in any way. Not that there had been any need for him to.

Anyway, once that strange parasocial attachment had been formed, Lauren couldn‘t help her curiosity. Her interest. So she watched him sometimes when she saw him around. Only for a while. Only when she had nothing else to do. And not in a creepy way.

Just—people watching. Like you‘d do sitting on a bench or looking out the window, watching the people mill past. Only Spidey-specific. Spidey watching.

Watching Spider-Man do his thing was sometimes funny, sometimes educational, occasionally impressive—but it was never boring. Of course it was always interesting to see how he helped people that needed help, big or small.

Lauren had never witnessed any of the really big fights, and she was more than fine with that. But there were still plenty of things she‘d seen that had the potential to drastically change the life of at least one person, if it hadn‘t been for Spider-Man.

Chasing after thieves and muggers, preventing traffic accidents or taking care of the injured if he couldn‘t, breaking up and de-escalating brawls and fights.

But even if there wasn‘t anything so pressing, it was still interesting to watch all the small-scale stuff Spidey did for the people of Queens. Nothing life saving, but something that could make someone‘s day that little bit easier. Seen by themselves, they didn‘t seem like much, but they added up in Lauren‘s mind.

Carrying someone‘s heavy luggage up several flights of stairs because the building didn‘t have an elevator.

Chasing after an escaped balloon, reigning it back in before it could soar past the rooftops and returning it into the child‘s hand, stopping a crying fit just as it was beginning.

One particular scenario was especially memorable for Lauren—not because it was so impressive or life changing, but because of the dedication it showed.

It had been one of the first warm, sunny days of spring, the kind of day where everyone is a little more chipper, a little more energetic, because winter was finally over.

Lauren was not immune to that herself, so she had grabbed her picnic blanket, a thermos of tea, some trail mix and her laptop and settled down to work in the small park a few blocks down.

There was a storefront in her view, at the edge of the park—a small bakery from what she could tell. She didn‘t pay any particular attention to it at first—not until she saw out of the corner of her eyes that very distinct red and blue suit.

Interest piqued, she added one to her mental tally of Spider-Man encounters and looked up from her work to indulge in her Spidey watching habit.

Spidey was apparently conversing with an elderly lady, possibly the shop owner, some kind of bucket on the pavement between them, a ladder leaning against the wall.

Lauren was too far away to hear what they were saying but she got the gist of it quite clearly by their body language and expressions alone.

The bakery‘s storefront was tall and mostly glass, which the lady had apparently been about to scrub in the interest of spring cleaning.

Spidey was having none of it.

Despite all assurances and humble refusals the elderly lady surely uttered, he didn‘t take no for an answer, until she handed over her cleaning supplies—presumably under profuse thanks—and let Spidey carry away the ladder before tackling the task himself.

Lauren spent the next fifteen minutes watching Spidey clean the first of the tall windows, climbing up the glass with that strange stickiness of his when necessary. She watched him learn that he should be cleaning the windows from the top down when he smudged the freshly cleaned bottom half up again when he climbed up to clean the top.

And then he stiffened mid-sweep, looking over his shoulder, and a few seconds later the sound of sirens in the distance reached Lauren‘s ears, too.

Not even bothering to climb down, Spidey shouted something, probably to the shop owner, shot a web at a neighbouring building and swung away right from the window.

Lauren smiled to herself, shook her head, and went back to work, thinking that would be the end of it.

It must have been more than half an hour later when there was the distinct thwip of Spider-Man‘s webs and he landed softly in front of the bakery once more, picking up his task again as though nothing had happened.

This procedure repeated itself several times throughout the afternoon.

There were sirens or shouts or sometimes Lauren had no idea in hell what exactly Spider-Man was reacting to when he swung off, and then he‘d be gone for ten minutes, forty minutes, almost two hours.

That last one had Lauren sure he wouldn‘t turn up again and she was already getting ready to call it a day and head home—but without fail, Spidey returned and continued cleaning the windows.

Lauren decided to stay a little longer, just to see how it played out.

Eventually, as dusk was falling and Lauren was starting to feel a little cool, the elderly lady was evidently preparing to close up shop for the day. She attempted to shoo Spider-Man away with a paper bag, presumably, full of baked goods. Spidey good-naturedly accepted the bag, but refused to relinquish his bucket.

So the lady closed up the shop and Spidey continued—under Lauren‘s watchful eye and with a few more interruptions—until the entire storefront was spotless and shining.

(Probably. Lauren couldn‘t really see it in the dark.)

Once Spider-Man was satisfied with his job, he swung up to the rooftop with the cleaning supplies, likely to stash them somewhere, and disappeared.

Lauren, too, finally gathered her belongings and headed home. She regretted it a little bit when she arrived shivering and made some fresh tea to try and warm herself up, but at the same time it felt special to have seen it.

This kind of relentless dedication to see through the help he‘d promised.

This surety, something that Lauren almost wanted to call devotion.

She was aware she didn‘t really know Spider-Man … and yet she felt like she knew him a little better now.

Chapter Text

Even more than watching Spidey help people, however, Lauren enjoyed seeing him just being around the people of Queens, interacting with them, when there was nothing in particular that needed his help.

It seemed a little more honest, somehow.

Not that his help was in any way disingenuous, from what she could tell. But when he was helping, he was always in that … superhero mode. That friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man persona.

When he was just talking to people, just hanging out, he seemed more like a person. Less like a symbol.

He had, for one, more emotions than chipper and snarky and snarkily chipper.

Lauren‘s many encounters with Spidey hadn‘t started until after the Blip. Before the Blip, she‘d still been at college and lived in a different part of the city. During the Blip, well …

By the time Spider-Man returned, along with half of humanity, Lauren had graduated, moved to Queens and gotten a couple of years of work experience under her belt.

And the time right after the Blip wasn‘t easy for anyone. There was a lot of adjustment necessary—both from the society that had remained, trying to reaccomodate so many people all at once, and those people themselves, having to get used to a society that had so profoundly changed in their absence.

Lauren was sure Spider-Man had his own things to deal with, too. Having been blipped, fighting in that battle upstate, having to reestablish his place in Queens, his home turf not being quite the same as he left it. And she knew he had been at least reasonably close to Iron Man, too.

That wasn‘t even accounting for any issues he might have in his personal life outside the Spidey suit.

Point being, it would not be unexpected for Spider-Man to be sort of bummed in the aftermath of it all. Most everyone was sort of bummed in the aftermath of it all, in some form or another.

But Spider-Man never let it show.

He went about his business with what seemed like relentless optimism and and endless well of good humour. Jokes and quips abounded with the bad guys and the regular folk alike. Lauren found it admirable, but at the same time a little suspect.

With all the shit he must be seeing on the daily, did nothing ever get him down? Did he never have a bad day? Did he never get angry at all the injustice he fought day in and day out?

It couldn’t be true. It had to be a mask of some sort, a second one underneath the one of red cloth.

That‘s what made it so much more interesting to watch when he let go of that hero persona for a moment and just talked to someone, letting the human underneath the mask shine through.

Lauren didn‘t have any particular desire to find out Spider-Man‘s identity, and she‘d never tried. She enjoyed these glimpses not because it would help her find out who he was, but how he was.

She remembered in particular one sweltering hot summer day, when she was sitting in the shade on the fire escape, hoping for the slightest breeze to cool her down because her building‘s AC was out again. Right across the street from her flat, there was this bodega, Delmar‘s, where she loved to get a sandwich sometimes—and so, she had learnt, did Spidey.

Delmar himself seemed to be well-acquainted with the neighbourhood helper and spoke of him only in the highest tones. Told the story of how Spidey had rescued him and his cat from the burning wreckage of his shop every chance he got.

Spider-Man seemed to return the attachment and would in turn tell everyone who wanted to hear it (or not) that Delmar‘s had the best sandwiches in the city.

From her vantage point on the fire escape, Lauren had often heard them joke around with each other in passing, but she‘d never seen them have a real conversation.

As if Spidey ever stayed in one place long enough to have a real conversation with anyone.

On this particular oppressive summer day, however, Lauren swirled around the Iced Tea in her glass, hearing the ice cubes clink softly against each other, and watched as Mr Delmar stepped outside his shop during the early afternoon lull, just after the lunch crowd.

He leaned against the wall in the shade of his awning and fanned himself with a newspaper, occasionally mopping the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief.

Apparently Lauren wasn‘t the only one who had problems with her AC during this heat wave.

The streets were that special kind of quiet that only intense heat could bring—when no one was inclined to move very much and those who were fortunate enough to find themselves inside climate-controlled buildings would do their utmost to stay just there.

So there Mr Delmar stood, surveying the empty streets and struggling to ignore the heat.

And then there was the distinct thwip of a web and that soft landing that always made it look like Spidey weighed nothing at all.

"Hey, Mr Delmar!“

Spider-Man seemed to know everyone‘s names, but Lauren didn‘t think she‘d ever heard him call anyone by their first name. She wondered why that was.

"Spidey“, Delmar returned the greeting, voice wan from the heat but friendly as ever.

"Staying cool?“

Delmar laughed and gestured vaguely towards his red face glistening with sweat. "What does it look like?“

Spidey laughed too, a bright, warm thing, right at home in the summer heat. "Looks like you’re trying your best.“ Pulling up his shoulders he stepped into the shadow of the awning and leaned against the wall next to Delmar.

"Well, that‘s all any of us can do, really.“ Delmar looked over at his company, shaking his head. "I honestly don‘t know how you bear it. Wearing that suit in this heat. That must stick to all kinds of places.“

Spidey chuckled and pulled lightly at the fabric covering his thigh, which Lauren could only imagine must make some kind of squelching sound, given how sweaty he surely was under there.

"Sticking to all kinds of places is kind of my thing, Mr Delmar.“

Delmar said nothing, just watched him quietly until Spidey shrugged.

"I‘ve got my means and ways of staying cool“, he said. "Swinging through the air at high speeds will create one hell of a breeze.“

"You let nothing get between you and the city, huh, Spidey? Come hell or high water, aliens or heat waves, it‘s all the same to you.“

Spider-Man ducked his head in that humble way of his. "Got yet to find anything to dissuade me. Uh—permanently, anyways.“

Delmar hummed, and for a moment both of them were silent, no doubt each thinking about the same thing.

"Gotta take a break sometimes too, though“, Delmar eventually said, "No use running yourself into the ground.“

Spidey waved his words away. "Don‘t worry about it. Actually—I will be away for a little while in a few weeks! I‘m going on vacation.“

"Atta boy. Getting some sun? Or rather trying to escape the heat up north?“

The smile was audible in Spidey‘s voice when he replied. "It‘s gonna be warm alright, that‘s all I can say. So you‘ll have to look after the place by yourself for a little while.“

Delmar grinned. "I‘m sure we‘ll make do.“

"Good. If Queens lies in ashes when I return, I‘ll hold you personally responsible.“

"Don‘t worry, I‘ll look after any alien invasions and catastrophes in the meantime.“

Spidey nodded. "Well—I‘m glad to know I‘m leaving the city in capable hands. After all, hands that can make such excellent sandwiches can surely do anything.“

"Flattery will get you nowhere.“

A snort. "Ah, you caught me. I‘m only in it for the free sandwiches.“

Delmar shook his head with a smile. "You say that as if you ever accept anything without paying.“

"All an elaborate ruse to lull you into a false sense of security.“

"Well, you got me.“

Both laughing softly, they leaned back against the wall and stared up into the deep blue sky, sun glaring down.

For a few long minutes, silence fell.

Lauren drained the last of her Iced Tea and took a brief trip into the stifling heat of her apartment to get a refill and briefly stick her head in the fridge.

When she came back outside, both men were still standing there, in silent companionship.

Lauren didn‘t think she‘d ever seen Spidey be quiet this long. Nowhere near. She hadn‘t thought him capable.

One eye on her phone, she counted the minutes until—

"Did you know that a cloud can weigh up to a million pounds?“

Following the men‘s gazes up to the sky, Lauren saw that a brilliant white cloud was starting to peek through the buildings. Perhaps the promise of some coming relief from the heat.

Delmar squinted up against the brightness. "A million pounds, huh? That sounds like a lot.“

Spidey hummed. A beat, then—"I guess that‘s why they call it heavy rainfall.“

Delmar snorted, an aborted sound like he didn‘t want to admit it had made him laugh. "You ever swing through a cloud, Spidey?“

"Oh yeah, I have! Very refreshing.“

"Hit your head, didya?“

Spider-Man perked up, his body language alone looking positively delighted. "Ahhh, you got me! You do have a sense of humour!“

Delmar raised an eyebrow. "Not sure that‘s a compliment coming from you.“

"Excuse me“, Spidey said, sounding scandalised, "I am the jester king!“

"Jester king…“, Delmar huffed. "Doesn‘t that just mean you‘re the biggest fool?“

Spider-Man gasped dramatically. "Mr Delmar! Such disrespect coming from you! I am hurt! I am insulted. See if I ever pull you out of a burning building again! Murph gets a pass but he‘s on thin ice!“

"Alright, jester king“, Delmar said, trying to conceal a smile. "I gotta get back to it.“ He nodded towards the door of his shop, where two stray customers had just walked in. "You gonna take some water against the heat before you swing off?“

Spidey shrugged. "If you let me pay for it.“

"I will not.“

"We‘ll see about that.“

And with that bodega owner and masked hero disappeared inside the building, bickering.

Lauren kept an eye out long enough to see Spidey come back out, a plastic bag with two bottles of water around his wrist, and thwip away.

Whether or not he‘d paid for them, though, remained a secret between the two.

Chapter Text

The next time Lauren saw Spider-Man for any length of time, it had cooled down a little, although summer was still in full swing.

Being self-employed, Lauren had the luxury of scheduling her own work hours, which meant she usually worked early in the morning and late in the evening during the summer months, giving her the liberty of relaxing during the worst of the afternoon heat.

On that particular day, she‘d packed up her laptop and headphones as soon as the sun had disappeared behind the high-rises and headed to a 24h diner that served decent iced coffee and excellent fries.

Fuelled up on carbs and caffeine, she made good progress on a project for a long-time client, losing herself in her work for a few hours.

The dinner crowd was already thinning out by the time she resurfaced for a break, ordering a macadamia white chocolate chip cookie as a treat and getting a refill for her water, too.

She popped a piece of the cookie into her mouth, one eye on her phone to check her Instagram, when movement by the door automatically made her look up.

She wasn‘t the only one whose attention was drawn when Spidey burst into the diner—not in any specific kind of hurry, it seemed, just scrambling in that usual restless way of his.

The middle-aged waitress at the counter, Rita, gave him a curious glance but seemed otherwise unfazed when he came up to her, fixing her with those unsettlingly large lenses of his suit.

"Hi!“, he chirped, leaning lightly against the counter and drumming his fingers on the wood. "Could I get some milkshakes? One chocolate, one strawberry? Or, hell, make it two strawberry. And one chocolate. So—three milkshakes?“

Rita blinked at him, a little bewildered. "Sure, honey“, she said. "Take a seat, I‘ll get them ready for you.“

"Sweet.“ Lauren could tell he was grinning, even through the mask. "Thank you!“

Spidey hopped up on a stool at the counter easily and idly watched as the waitress got his milkshakes ready.

"You fuelling up for a big night?“, she asked conversationally as she scooped out ice cream.

Spidey laughed softly. "Nah, actually heading home early tonight. Just picking these up for my, uh—my family. Just a little treat.“

"That‘s nice“, Rita said with a smile. "I‘m sure they‘ll appreciate it.“

Spider-Man gave a one-sided little shrug, ducking his head. "I was in the area.“

"Of course.“ Turning around toward the blender, Rita briefly met Lauren‘s eyes across the diner with a knowing look. Lauren gave her a grin.

The roar of the blender prevented any further conversation, so Spidey spun around on his stool and let his eyes roam curiously through the diner.

Lauren wasn‘t sure why she quickly trained her gaze back down onto her laptop. She didn‘t want to be caught watching Spider-Man, even though most of the other patrons in the diner did so unabashedly, and Spidey just gave them a little wave and that tilt of his head that indicated a smile.

She didn‘t think Spidey would mind that she watched him. She didn‘t think he‘d even pay her any particular mind. But still it felt like showing her Spidey watching openly, perhaps even have him acknowledge her somehow, was breaking the rules for some reason.

What rules? What would breaking them do? She had no idea, but that‘s how she felt.

So she only looked back up once she was sure Spider-Man had turned away from her table, his wide white eyes now trained on the chalkboard listing the specials.

When Rita set down the bag with the milkshakes in front of him, he indicated the board with a nod. "Can I get a piece of banana bread, too? My—uhm … I got someone who really likes a good banana bread.“

"Sure thing“, Rita said with a smile, grabbing a piece from the display and depositing it safely in a paper bag. "On the house, for you.“

"Oh“, Spidey straightened up on his stool, waving his hands as Rita put the banana bread into the bag with the milkshakes. "No, no, that‘s okay, really. Thank you so much, but that‘s not necessary.“

"It‘s not a big deal.“ Rita pushed the bag across the counter towards Spider-Man. "Just friendly neighbours helping each other out.“

Spider-Man huffed. "No, really—I appreciate that but—it‘s not even for me, you know, it‘s a gift for someone else, doesn‘t seem right not paying for it.“ Somehow he produced some cash from some nook in his skin-tight suit and firmly placed a few bills on the counter.

Before Rita could even open her mouth to reply, he had already jumped to his feet.

"Whoops, I guess I dropped those. Would you pick them up for me?“

With that, he grabbed the bag with his order and was already halfway out the door, waving over his shoulder with his free hand. "Thanks! Appreciate it!“

And just as quickly as he‘d appeared, he was gone, the diner feeling somehow quieter as everyone turned back to their food, drinks, conversations, phones.

Lauren watched as Rita picked up the bills from the counter with a smile and a shake of her head, counting out some to put in the till and dropping the rest into the pay it forward jar.

Spider-Man had long since disappeared in the night, but Lauren let her gaze drift out the window nonetheless, imagining the neighbourhood helper swinging home to some flat like any other, home to his loved ones, taking off his suit and sharing a milkshake perhaps with his girlfriend or his roommate. Bringing them a special treat just because he knew they liked it.

She wondered if his loved ones knew about his moonlighting, and what they thought of it.

She tried to imagine how she would feel if someone close to her did what Spider-Man did.

Lauren didn‘t think of herself as a particularly selfless person. She wasn‘t actively selfish either, she didn‘t think, and she did her best to practice kindness wherever the opportunity presented itself. But she‘d never been good at going out of her way to seek out those opportunities. A lot of the time she felt like she had too many issues of her own, too much to deal with in her own head, to be able to invest much energy in helping others.

Try as she might, she couldn‘t really fathom what must be going on in the mind of someone like Spider-Man, who not only went out of his way to help others but put his own life on hold and in danger doing it. It was humbling to see in the same way as it was seeing people who dedicated their life to furthering social causes without a thought about compensation or recognition.

Like F.E.A.S.T.

She supposed there was a reason why Spider-Man worked with them.

Lauren didn‘t think she could do that kind of work.

Maybe that did make her selfish.

But then she never knew what she would be able to contribute to such a cause, other than money, of which she didn‘t have a lot.

She didn‘t have any particular talents, she wasn‘t trained for any of it, she wasn‘t very good at dealing with people.

She was a graphic designer. Not a profession that would change the world.

With a sigh Lauren glanced down at her project still open on her screen. Half an hour ago it had seemed like some of her best work. Now it felt wildly inadequate.

Opening a folder, she flicked through her past projects, in particular any posters and banners and ads she had designed.

Charities needed that kind of stuff too, right? She‘d seen posters and flyers from F.E.A.S.T. around Queens, most of them pretty basic, probably put together by some volunteer in Open Office. They could definitely be better—command more attention, convey their information more clearly.

Perhaps tomorrow she‘d go down to F.E.A.S.T. and ask if they had any design work that needed doing.

Chapter Text

The next time Lauren saw Spider-Man, he wasn‘t alone.

There was a girl with him—and it was clear as soon as you saw them that she was with him, not just someone he ran into or he was helping, even though Lauren couldn‘t hear what they were saying.

They stood close to each other, comfortable, always angled toward each other. His touch on her arm was easy, familiar.

She must be a close friend or his girlfriend. Perhaps his sister.

Nope—Lauren revised that thought in her mind as she pressed herself close to him, wrapping her legs around his hips—definitely not his sister.

They must be together, or, if they weren‘t they either had been in the past or would be in the near future. Infatuation was clear in both of their body languages, and her expression, though the latter was soon clouded by apprehension.

It became clear a moment later why, when Spidey wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her easily, before extending the other and shooting a web at a nearby building, sending the both of them flying through the air.

The girl‘s scream was immediate and loud enough that Lauren could hear it even through the window. She couldn‘t help her smile, though if she was being honest with herself, she didn‘t know if she‘d be able to keep her cool any better in the same situation.

Being propelled through the air at high speeds, held by nothing but what was essentially a string and faith in her boyfriend‘s strength did probably warrant a scream or two.

The two of them were out of her sight soon, though she caught another glimpse of them in the distance little later, the bright red of Spidey‘s suit easy to spot, the girl‘s curls whipping wildly in the wind. Then they swung around a corner and were gone.

Lauren put it out of her mind and tried to go back to her work. She had promised Mrs Parker that she‘d have the posters for the food drive done by Friday, and even though it was volunteer work, she didn‘t want to already mess up on her first real assignment for F.E.A.S.T.

Still she couldn‘t help her thoughts drifting back to Spider-Man as she tried to get the text properly aligned. Perhaps she was overthinking it, but it seemed to her a little reckless for him to just swing about with his girlfriend like that. Not just that it might put her into danger, it also seemed to Lauren that the risk of someone who knew her seeing them and making the connection to whoever her boyfriend was in his everyday life seemed way too big.

But then again, who didn‘t do reckless things when they were young and in love? And what was the sense in being Spider-Man‘s girlfriend if you couldn‘t take a swing around the city sometime?

Lauren had barely finished the thought when her phone vibrated with a notification.

She glanced at the screen absently, expecting a message in some group chat or perhaps a reminder from Duolingo to keep up with her lessons.

What she did not expect was a news alert.

A headline reading "Spider-Man‘s identity revealed!"

Lauren‘s stomach cramped painfully. She was sweating, suddenly.

She didn‘t believe in the concept of jinx, but still it was a little eerie to have her thoughts so immediately reflected to her on her phone screen.

For a few seconds she considered simply dismissing the notification and putting it out of her mind. She really didn‘t need to know. Didn‘t want to know.

But if it was true—if Spider-Man‘s identity was really made public—then there was no way Lauren would be able to avoid the news in the long run. It would be all anyone would talk about.

Might as well get it over with.

Still her hand shook as she picked up her phone. She was afraid—not of what she would find but for what—who—she would find.

She thought of that guy in the suit, the gentle, careful way he‘d held his girlfriend close, the way he‘d softened around her.

Their lives would never be the same after today.

Lauren unlocked her phone and tapped on the notification.

"No way."

She actually said it out loud, to no one in particular, whispersoft disbelief.

She stared at the face of a boy—that‘s what he was, a boy—his dorky smile, his …

Peter Parker.

Peter Parker.

"No way", she said again, like it would change anything.

But … Spider-Man was working with F.E.A.S.T., wasn‘t he?

Mrs Parker had spoken of her nephew with such affection. Lauren hadn‘t been able to meet him yet, because he‘d been on a class trip. In Europe.

While Spider-Man was on vacation. Fighting in the attack on London.

A class trip. Because he was in high school. Spider-Man was in high school.

Lauren forced herself to tear her eyes away and scroll past the picture to the actual text of the article.

She didn‘t believe a word of it.

Well—his identity, yes, perhaps. But that he was behind the attack on London? That he had killed that Mysterio guy?

"No way."

This time it was not a disbelieving whisper, but an affirmation. A fact.

Lauren didn’t know Spider-Man, but somehow she knew him in all the ways that mattered. She knew him enough to know that this couldn’t be true.

The guy who spent an afternoon cleaning and old lady’s storefront windows and took home milkshakes to his—well, actually, to his aunt, probably, now that she thought of it—that wasn’t a guy who would attack London with an army of killer drones.

Lauren closed the tab and resisted the urge to check social media. She was convinced that any reasonable person could only come to the same conclusion she had, and she wanted to hold on to that conviction for a little longer.

Already her phone started vibrating again as several group chats were flooded with discussions about the news.

Already there seemed to be a general din rising in the city around her, newscasts being turned up in every flat and business, people yelling, excited conversations, the rumble of helicopters above them.

Queens was buzzing.

Something underneath Lauren’s skin was buzzing too.

But she tucked it away, flipped her phone face down and turned back to her work.

The poster still needed finishing.

This changed nothing.

Chapter Text

Lauren saw a little less of Spider-Man after that, since it seemed he spent a lot less time in the suit, for a while at least.

She saw a lot more of Peter Parker, though.

As she continued her work with FEAST and had some more conversations with May Parker, it was impossible not to get into contact with him, at least tangentially.

Mrs Parker‘s enthusiastic and affectionate stories about her nephew had become more rare and more subdued when they did come, not because she liked to talk about him any less but because now she could never be sure how her stories would be received.

Thankfully, most people who worked with FEAST or made use of their services were well disposed to Spider-Man, or at least tended to adore May Parker which made them like Peter by proxy.

Still, with the way the media was talking about Spider-Man these days and how many people unthinkingly repeated all that drivel to anyone who wanted to hear it (or not), one couldn‘t be too careful.

Mrs Parker already had to put up with more than enough bullshit, she didn‘t need anyone adding to it.

So Lauren kept her head down and minded her own business, only subtly letting Mrs Parker know that she was there if there was ever anything they should need—her and Peter both. Beyond that, though, she never brought it up, kept their conversations to FEAST business and general smalltalk unless Mrs Parker led it elsewhere.

But Peter was … well, he was around. He stopped by FEAST, in or out of the suit since it didn‘t seem to matter much anymore, for lunch or to bring something for Mrs Parker or to pick her up after work.

Mrs Parker introduced them once, briefly, since Lauren happened to be around when he appeared, but in his restless way he was gone again before she could blink. So she hadn‘t ever had an actual conversation with him, but she didn‘t mind it much. What did you talk to a superhero about anyway?

He didn‘t owe her answers to her questions, even if she had any that she was itching to ask, which she didn‘t. And there was hardly anything of note in her own life that she could tell him about.

So she didn‘t talk to him, and she cut down on her Spidey-watching too, because now it just felt creepy.

But it seemed even so she couldn‘t quite escape her parasocial Spidey-relationship.

She‘d been spending the second half of her lunch break sitting on a park bench in order to get some fresh air and sun, sipping at her iced coffee and idly contemplating what she needed to get done in the afternoon.

A flash of red in between the green and brown of the park caught her wandering eye.

There was Spidey, in his suit but mask off, across the grass, sitting on the back rest of a bench, feet up on the seat.

Next to him, sitting more conservatively on the actual bench, was a broadly built young man with dark hair that Lauren vaguely recognised from what little reporting on Spider-Man she‘d seen in the recent weeks.

Spidey was sitting leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees and head dipped in order to more easily converse with his friend, who was half turned towards him, looking up.

They seemed deep in conversation, though from this distance Lauren couldn‘t hear them at all. It was clear they were comfortable with each other, though.

Their body language, each one of their smiles and looks and gestures were in tune as they only ever were between two people who had known each other for years and years.

Lauren turned her attention back to her Iced Coffee and the rest of the park—but really there wasn‘t that much else to see, so her eyes kept drifting back to Spider-Man and his friend.

As the conversation went on, it was apparent that the friend was upset about something—eyebrows drawn together in a frown and hands fidgeting in his lap.
Shoulders pulled up, he kept dipping his head in response to something Spidey said, but he didn‘t look convinced.

Spidey was wearing that contrite smile that people wore when they tried to comfort someone but remain positive. Every once in a while he‘d bump his friend‘s shoulder with his knee or lay his hand on his arm to give him a reassuring squeeze.

Each time his friend acknowledged it with a weak smile, but he looked down again right away.

Lauren couldn‘t help but speculate what their conversation was about.

Being Spider-Man‘s friend but also a literal high schooler, Lauren felt he could be upset about anything ranging from a bad grade over his first break-up to the literal end of the world.

She thought Spidey‘s demeanour made the latter less likely, but you could never tell with him and his positive attitude.

In any case he was relentless—Lauren could see him talking almost non-stop, only occasionally pausing to let his friend answer a question or collect his thoughts for a moment.

But as soon as he slumped again, drifting back into whatever negative thoughts were plaguing him, Spidey spoke again with some kind word or silly joke.

He didn‘t stop until his friend actually huffed a laugh at something he said, at which point Spidey put a hand on his chest, playing at being offended, but the wide, crooked grin betrayed his relief.

He seemed to follow it up with another joke or two, bantering back and forth until his friend was well and truly laughing.

Spidey leaned back a bit then, posture relaxing and smile betraying his satisfaction—not smug as such, just happy that he‘d broken through his friend‘s gloom.

Well, maybe a little smug.

He dipped forward again as soon as his friend stopped laughing, and spoke again before he had time to sink back into his worries, more serious now but eyes still soft with affection and reassurance.

His friend looked up at him again, something a little hopeful in his gaze, tension seeping out of him.

Spidey grinned and nodded and his friend returned the gesture.

A silence fell between them, a calm that, it seemed, Spider-Man finally didn‘t feel the need to fill with constant chatter.

They sat in companionable quiet for a few minutes, until Spidey bumped his friend‘s shoulder again and nodded down the path towards the nearest city block.

His friend said something in reply and Spidey jumped up, landing lightly on the gravel path, his friend following in a more sedate manner.

They slipped into some kind of complicated handshake, so easily and quickly that Lauren knew they must have done it a hundred times before. Then they walked down the path to the edge of the park where Spidey gave his friend a final encouraging grin, pulled his mask down over his face, and thwiped away.

His friend remained where he was for a moment, looking after Spider-Man with a fond shake of his head, before he, too, made his way down the street and disappeared between the buildings.

His steps were still sedate and his hands buried in his pocket, but he held his head high.

Lauren‘s eyes long clung to the spot where he‘d disappeared as she took absent-minded sips of her coffee.

She couldn‘t imagine that being Peter Parker‘s friend was a very easy position to be in right now, and she didn’t want to pretend that it was.

Whether or not his troubles had anything to do with the recent leak of Spider-Man‘s identity, she was sure it must be adding tons of stress and attention to his life that he had not willingly signed up for.

At the same time, the same stress and attention was on Spidey too, and then some, with the added worry of criminal charges, slander, and the constant threat of assault.

There was something about him still finding a kind word to say—a lot of kind words to say—to his friend when he needed them.

There was something about him taking the time to sit with someone who needed comfort or advice or distraction, when he himself must also be in dire need of comfort, advice and distraction.

There was something about the way that even now, his first thought was not for his own needs, his own safety, but those of his loved ones.

Finishing the last sip of her now tepid Iced Coffee, Lauren got to her feet, making her slow way back home, the sun burning comfortably on her back.

At least now, knowing May Parker, she could rest assured that there was someone whose first thought was for Peter‘s needs and safety too.