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“Spider-Man.”
Peter tensed a bit in spite of himself, freezing for a moment in the open window. His right foot hadn’t even touched the ground yet and he already felt unwelcome.
Which was ridiculous. Not only has Peter Parker worked in this building for years, but Spider-Man has also been allowed into The Daily Bugle… one time… this was, in fact, that one time.
But still! Progress was obviously being made.
Peter ducked his head under the window frame, turning around to face the one and only J. Jonah Jameson. He was standing in front of his desk, a cigar held distractedly between his fingers, eyes boring into Peter’s skull.
“...you rang?” Peter asks, forcing levity into the question. He doesn’t move from his spot in front of the office window, trying very hard not to question his boss’ motivations for calling Spider-Man to The Bugle for a private chat.
“Yes. I did,” Jameson answered, either accidentally or deliberately choosing to ignore the tone Peter tried to set. He stubbed the cigar out in an overflowing glass ashtray, not looking away from Peter the entire time.
The two stared at each other for a moment.
“Well come in! Don’t just stand around lollygagging!” Jameson shouted, shattering the silence in the room. Peter quickly made his way to the sole chair in front of the desk, all too used to following the man’s directives.
Jameson looked a bit startled himself, probably at Peter’s willingness to follow his orders. He leaned back on his desk until he was sitting on top of it, now basically looming over Peter.
“We need to have a little chat.”
His Spider-sense pinged. Not quite at a “your boss hired an assassin to kill you” level, thankfully. Just enough to keep him alert.
“I’m so glad you think so too, because I’ve had some stuff I've been wanting to get off my chest. If you had given me more advanced warning I would have brought my—”
“Zip!” Jonah stuck his open palm out and snapped it shut, mimicking a mouth closing. “This? This thing you do? With your mouth? None of that.”
Uh oh.
“Now, you know, and I know, that we,” he paused to use both of his hands to gesture between the two of them, “do not get along. At all.”
“Now I don’t know what you’re talking about Jonah, I happen to start my day every morning by reading this fine—”
“At. All.” He emphasized, face turning a shade of red.
Peter raised his hand. It was worth Jonah’s immediately exasperated expression.
“What.”
“Did you ask me to come to your office, after hours, just to tell me you hate me?” Peter asked, swallowing the laughter that wanted to make its way out.
Jonah’s mouth opened and then immediately closed. He shut his eyes, his face slowly turning back to its natural hue. Peter watched in fascination.
“No,” he uttered out with a forced composure, “no, that is not why I called you here.”
Peter crossed his legs in the office chair and propped his right elbow on his knee, using it to hold his face up. The old office chair creaked and leaned precariously to accommodate the uneven center of gravity.
“I called you here because it has come to my attention… that you are in a relationship with one of my employees.”
THUD.
Peter looked up at the paneled ceiling, questioning his life choices. He quickly got off the floor and sat properly in the chair, just in time to see Jameson rubbing a hand over his eyes.
“I— what???”
“There’s no use in hiding it!” Jonah insisted, looking up from his palm to glare at Peter. “I know everything that happens in this building! And that includes hook-ups that happen in it!”
“OK, FIRST OF ALL, EW,” Peter cringed, his voice an octave higher than it usually was (heading dangerously into Parker territory, dial it back, dial it back). He cleared his throat, dropping his voice back into his adopted Spider-Man pitch, “and second of all, what does that even mean??”
“It means that I know you and Parker are an item!” Jonah finished triumphantly, pointing a finger right into Peter’s face.
“I— I— …. WHAT??” Peter spluttered.
“Aha! Still unwilling to come clean! That’s ok, because I have, as the kids call them, ‘receipts.’” Jameson finally turned away from Peter and back toward his desk, shuffling through papers almost manically.
“I— Mr. Jameson— Jonah, can I call you Jonah—”
“OBSERVE!” the man crowed, shoving a photograph into Peter’s face.
“It’s… a photo of me.”
“A photo taken by Parker! Now look at the back.” Peter flipped the picture over to the blank white side. Or what should have been the blank white side.
Instead, on the back was a short line in his atrocious handwriting.
This one’s for you, honey!
Oh shit.
“...I can explain,” Peter said, looking up from the message at Jameson’s smug smirk, “see, this message, it was actually meant for—”
“FOR YOUR BOYFRIEND, PARKER.”
…the message had actually been meant for Jameson, as a joke. A quip! One of his typical quips oh God why was this happening—
“AND I HAVE MORE EVIDENCE!” Jonah interrupted Peter’s mental anguish, snatching the photo out of Peter’s grasp. He turns to the monitor on his desk, wrenching the screen so that it faced towards Peter.
“Jameson if you would just let me explain—” Peter’s voice gave out at the footage in front of him.
The footage of Peter Parker running to the back of the Bugle building, out of sight of the camera’s view, and Spider-Man swinging away from that same exact spot.
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh—
“SEE! HOOK-UPS!!!” Jameson gestured with a vindicated flourish at the screen.
“I— …you, you caught us!” Peter answered, tone shifting from panicked to hopeful mid sentence.
“Of course I did!” Jonah answered, crossing his arms in front of his chest, raising an eyebrow at Peter. “I’m the editor of the city’s most beloved journal of record!” he finished, moving to the side of the room.
Peter couldn’t even be bothered to glance over and see what he was doing. He was too busy trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest.
Jameson comes back into view, sitting in a chair he had dragged directly in front of Peter.
“Now listen, kid.”
“I’m 27,” Peter corrected absentmindedly.
“Listen kid. I don’t know what your intentions are with Parker—”
Why. Why him. Peter was a good person, wasn’t he?? Why did these things always have to happen to him—
“—but I swear to baby Jesus lying in a manger, if you hurt that kid, I will end you.”
…wait. What?
Jameson must have mistaken Peter’s stunned silence for disregard. “Don’t think I won’t. You thought the pieces we ran on you were rough before?? Just wait and see what they’ll be like if you—”
“Is this,” Peter couldn’t stop his mouth from asking, “a shovel talk?”
“No no. A shovel talk requires a threat of violence,” Jameson answered with a mock lightheartedness, reaching over to the ashtray on his desk. “And I’m not insinuating anything of the sort.”
Jameson held the ashtray out in front of him. Then he squeezed his hand into a fist, the glass breaking with a series of cracks and crunches.
UHHHHHHHHH—
“UHHHHH????” Peter droned loudly, watching blood drip out of Jonah’s still closed fist.
“Not verbally anyway,” Jonah said simply, letting the glass pieces fall to the floor. “I don’t like you. In fact, I don’t like a lot of people. But I do happen to like that Parker kid. So this is your first and only warning, Spider-Man. You break that kid’s heart, and well…” he spared a glance down to the remains of the ash tray.
“I got it,” Peter said weakly, emotions running wild.
“Good,” Jonah replied as if he hadn’t just cut open his entire hand, “get him some science stuff, test tubes and that shit, he’s a nerd like that.” He took a handkerchief out of his shirt pocket and tied it around his injured hand. “New equipment for his camera works too, but you’ll need to know the make and model, I can give you that information if you want.”
“I… I got it,” Peter repeated.
“Perfect. Now get out.” Jameson went over to the coat stand in the corner of the office, grabbing a trench coat and hat, then made his way to the door.
“Wait,” Peter couldn’t help but call out, standing up out of the chair. Jonah turned back slightly to face him.
“Peter… Peter talks about you. A lot. He says he really loves working for you, even if you are a complete hard ass.”
Jonah’s face loses a bit of its natural tension, and one corner of his mouth quirks upward. He chuckles before turning back to walk out the door.
“He also mentioned something about a potential raise—” Peter calls after him.
“GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!”