Chapter Text
Grieving, mourning and loss.
Maybe it was the fact that he could just be a different person, away from all the bullshit his brain produced. Maybe it was the fact that these people appreciated him in a way that people who actually knew him didn’t, but this job brought him more comfort than any words ever could.
No amount of gentle shoulder pats or hands in hands or awkward suffocating hugs could ever stop the playbacks. The random moments of realisations of what had happened.
This, however, was different. He could just, be someone else. He could do whatever, say whatever, and not feel any guilt or attachments. Even if it was demoralising. It didn’t matter, because creepy old man hands caressing his hips for this particular mission wasn’t sympathising touch. It didn’t have any pity ingrained into its seams. It was just that, creepy old man hands caressing his hips.
“God, look at you, baby. So fucking beautiful. So fucking gorgeous.”
“Hmmm, you like that?”
Mr. Lorenzo finally looked into his eyes. A disgusting glossed-over look in his eyes made Peter Parker want to gag, but he resisted the urge as to not completely ruin the mission.
“Yes, baby. I love it. Please, baby. More. More, baby,” Despite the freak’s continuous pleas for escalation in the matter, Peter refused. He didn’t want to actually do this (well, Mr. Lorenzo didn’t know that), he just had to stall for a little bit longer.
”Just a little bit longer, Agent. We almost got everything marked down. Give us two minutes.”
“Keep begging, sir. Maybe it’ll work,” and despite every muscle in his body telling him to not, he traced a finger around the man’s crotch.
”Soon, Agent. It’s taking less time than we thought, sir.”
Mr. Lorenzo looked like he was going to cry, either from horniness or disappointment.
”Baby, I want you so bad. I want you so so so so bad, baby please. You’re so beautiful, so gorgeous. Please, baby.”
Peter let out a mocking laugh, trying his best to keep the facade on, because even though this scenario was literal hell, it kept him distracted.
So, just a little longer. Just a little bit longer.
” Agent! We’ve got it! We got everything!”
”Please. Please, baby-“
“Let’s hope you beg like that during interrogation,” finally, finally it was over. He pulled his leg over and stepped off the man’s lap, buttoning his shirt and grabbing his pants.
He put them on and shot Mr. Lorenzo a fond smile.
”I’m suprised you took a liking to “James Gustavsson”. He’s a little… older than your usual type.”
”What?” The look of pure lust was gone and confusion plastered his face.
”Oh, c’mon! You didn’t actually think the copious amounts of child pornography was safe on your computer, no password or anything, right? I mean, it took a little bit longer for my team to get everything, but, uh, we got it!” His face contorted in a cheerful way.
“What the hell are you talking about?” The man fell out of the chair and crawled, trying his best to get away from Peter.
Peter, however, had already buttoned his shirt up and was now walking towards Lorenzo. “Stop squirming,” and he landed a sharp stomp to Lorenzo’s knee, hearing a loud crack.
After that, everything went pretty smoothly. Peter managed to get the man into handcuffs despite his annoying whines. Interrogation went pretty well too. So now, it was time to pack up and go home.
Right, pack up and go home.
So he did. He grabbed his puffy jacket and strolled home.
When he opened the door, Peter let out a deep sigh.
He liked this apartment, it had plenty of windows and good neighbours. He liked how big it was, plus the previous owner had mounted lots of shelves, perfect for Gus to climb.
But it didn’t matter, because it was an apartment that they’d bought together, and he remembered everything from the very first time they walked in here, excited for they’re new home, to the last time, when Gwen had rested her head on his shoulder, a day before she had to go back to the hospital.
He walked into the kitchen, where Gwen had made mac n cheese for the first time, and he made himself a sandwich that he took the living room.
Every room in this apartment held a memory. A memory that stabbed him in the head at least a dozen times before it let him continue doing what he intended.
And Peter still refused to move out. Maybe because he did actually like apartment, but most likely because leaving would mean ripping himself free from that part of himself. That part of himself that Gwen loved so much.
So, he stayed, and he suffered and ate his sandwich in silence staring at a stain on the wall, the one Gwen had insisted looked like Nick Jonas despite it literally being a blob of nothing.
He turned his head sideways, tried to look at it upside down but then the thought that maybe Gwen had just said that to gaslight Peter into thinking he was crazy, not seeing it.
She definitely had.
He chuckled because that was such a Gwen thing to do, and then realising that he really missed her jokes, he understood she wasn’t there any longer, that she had left him, that he would never ever talk to her or listen or fight with her again, and for the first time since her death, it really sunk in. Gwen was gone.
Cancer stole her. Cancer stole her.